I grip her hips so hard I know she’ll bruise, but I need her to feel this, to feel me, to know she is mine.
“The knot,” she chokes out, her voice barely there, her body wrecked beneath me. Her lashes flutter, wet with tears.
“The knot,” I echo, dragging my teeth along her shoulder, sucking and biting.
We breathe each other’s breaths, her gasps feeding my hunger, my groans feeding her release. I spill deep inside her, my body shuddering as her own pleasure detonates. She jerks, spasms, and milks me for everything I have. Her body takes everything from me. Her soul sings to mine.
And I answer.
My forehead presses against hers as I hold her tight, my claws digging into her skin, keeping her exactly where she belongs. This is how it should be.
Her belly swells with my seed, rounding before my eyes. A low growl rumbles in my chest as I watch her body take everything I’ve given. Too good. Too much. It can’t be real. And yet, it is.
“Look how good you’re taking me,” I breathe.
“I . . . I . . .” my Noël gasps, her gaze unfocused, hazed with pleasure.
I trace my tongue over her face, soothing her. Vólkin semen is thicker than human, as Elder Aïna once explained. It clings to the walls of the female’s canal and locks the knot in place. And I want it to stay there forever. I’ll take her again. And again.
“I thought I might meet my mother,” she murmurs with a smile as she lies boneless beneath me.
“And I thought I’d meet mine,” I grin, nuzzling her.
She traces her fingers over her swollen belly. “I look like I’m with child.”
“One day,” I whisper. Still buried deep inside her, I shift us, pulling her into my arms and lying beside her before exhaustion claims me. If I don’t, I’ll collapse on top of her. I reach for more furs and tuck them around her so she’s warm and comfortable.
“I thought your tongue was good,” my mate mumbles before she quickly buries her reddening face in my chest. “What am I saying!!”
I chuckle, tugging her closer. My knot is slowly relaxing, so I shift my hips just a little.
She shudders.
So eager and slick. I move my hips back and forth.I could do this forever.
My mate moves her hips with mine, and I lean closer, half atop her, half sinking into the furs, unwilling to let her go. Then, a noise.
Both our heads snap toward the entrance of our home. With a sigh, I force myself to relax. “Come in.”
The door opens on five nýmphí who bow to both of us before stepping around the mess I made on the floor and moving straight toward our nest. My mate’s horrified gaze meets mine. She is so amusing to me.
“The Lidéren must heal before dawn,” one of the nýmphí says, crouching beside us.
I huff, tightening my hold around my mate, wrapping my arms, legs, and tail around her, locking her to me. Still buried deep inside her. “I can heal her.”
Two of the nýmphí sigh before kneeling beside Noël. “If you do that, noble guardian, you will continue mating until dawn,” one says, opening a small jar that smells of crushed herbs.
“While that is a good thing,” the other adds, reaching out and gripping my tail.
I jerk violently, a growl tearing from me. My tail is sensitive.
The nýmphá does not flinch. “Tomorrow, we leave for war. So, please.”
My instincts war against reason. It is true, if I stay inside her, I might rot in my mate for the rest of our days. But that is not a bad thing.
I don’t want to pull out so soon.
“Theron, they’re right.” My mate sighs as she pulls away from me.
