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“Aye? What is that?”
“The only way to wake a male early is by sinking your hot, wet warmth down onto his cock.”
He’s ridiculous—but convincing and sexy also—so I spread my legs wide around him. Then I rub my bare sex onto his muscular abdomen, where his already-hard shaft pokes up at me.
“Silly male. Sink into me.”
He raises himself onto his forearms and the head of his cock nudges my entrance as if testing me. I’m already slick and ready for him and he’s able to slip right in.
“Were you waiting for me, sweet?” he grumbles in my ear.
“I’m always ready for you.”
It’s slow and sweet, rocking against each other, our hips meeting, dancing, grinding. When the heat blossoms inside me, curls my toes and makes me gasp, I look up into his eyes. Dark brown, surrounded by kohl, the depth of his green skin makes them pop with golden flecks in the penetrating darkness.
And shock widens my eyes—because all at once, it’s familiar. Those eyes, I know him. Deep down inside, I know him. I’m connected to him, I want him. Maybe it’s the sex talking but I... love him.
I love him.
I want to tell him but I can’t. Because he might call me his mate and I don’t want to explain that I’m already mated to another.
“I love you too.” He smirks slightly and then kisses the tip of my nose. He grinds his hips, presses my clit and then waves are shooting through me. I’m barely aware of his grunt before my clenching sheath milks him of seed.
There’s something magical about our heaving chests, catching our breath together. When our racing heartbeats slow down, when we both calm, he says, “Let’s go to the river to bathe.”
“I’d like your help,” I say. “I want to see what it’s like to be Shalia instead of Jogug. Maybe wash the elderberry from my hair. As much as I can.”
He nods. “I can help you with that. We’ll stop by Mag’s to see if she or Ulga have something to help strip it.”
We grab a fur to wrap around ourselves—we’ll need it to dry off with, anyway. And soap. I wait outside while he dips inside and comes back out with a jar of brined lemons, of all things.
And when we’re naked and in the clear water, when he’s gently rubbed the flowery soap into my skin, when he caresses the ends of my hair with the lemons while I rub my scalp with one, he finally says, “We captured all your clan. They’ll be questioned by our king soon.”
My movements cease for a frozen moment before I resume the rubbing. But it’s more vicious when I start up again, and he takes the lemon from my hand.
“Let me.”
The lemons look blackened with the color of the elderberry grease, deep shades of purple that are dark enough to appear black. He strokes it from my hairline back over the top of my skull, long strokes. Much gentler than I do.
“What has you distressed?” he asks.
“My two lives colliding.”
“Which life do you prefer?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I scowl. “Because when I pick, it might be yanked from me. Like a dream, or a forgotten memory.”
His voice is soft. “This is real, Jogug.”
“You’re the only one here who still calls me that.”
“It’s what you asked me for. When you choose a life, or decide that we won’t disappear once you make that choice, I’ll call you the name I know you as.”
“Even if I can’t become her?”
He laughs. “You’re already her, sweet. My soul knows you.”
“I’m the one who doesn’t know her.”
