My stomach tightens at the thought of anyone harming her, and I struggle to keep my voice level. “So, they’re on high alert now. And you’d be putting yourself at risk by returning.”
Her expression falters. “But what choice do I have? If I don’t go back, I’ll never know the truth.”
I lean in. “There will be a time to find the answers you need, but rushing into Tárnov right now without a plan is not worth the risk. That makes you a target.”
She falls silent again. After a long, tense moment, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re right,” she murmurs. “I can’t just walk into Tárnov like nothing happened.”
I reach out, taking her hand in my paw. “When we get to Ávera, we’ll seek guidance from the goddesses. They might be able to show us the path forward, to help us find the answers we need—safely.”
Noël looks at me, her eyes softening as she takes in my words. The tension in her body eases just a little. “Alright, we’ll go to Ávera.”
“We’ll find out what happened to your mother, Noël. I promise.”
Her voice is barely audible over the rustling of the woods around us when she whispers, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say, adding more leaves under her head for comfort.
In the sacred glade, we will be able to speak to the goddesses. One of them appeared, and I received a sign. That is good. Perhaps the world is truly opening its arms to its Lidéren. And that Lidéren ismymate.
“You’re not going to sleep?” my little mate asks, her eyelids fluttering as she fights to stay awake. She’s adorable.
“Vólkins don’t sleep as much as humans,” I reply. “You need it more than I do, so rest well. We have a whole day tomorrow before we get to Ávera.”
“If you get tired, wake me up, alright?” She can hardly manage to finish the sentence before she yawns. “I wake up to stand watch all the time. We do it in rotations in the military, so it isn’t new to me.”
As she settles in to sleep, I pull out some of my fur and add it into the bed-nest. She should be surrounded by my fur, should smell likeme. The shedding season has begun, and I already left so much of myself on the forest floor.
“The goddess said something about a bonding ritual,” my mate murmurs.
“She did.”
“What is that? Sounds like a wedding.”
“I do not know what a wedding is, but a bonding ritual is a ceremony that binds two souls together: an earthly soul and an ethereal being,” I say, brushing out more of my fur.
“I’m not marrying yo?—”
And just like that, she’s asleep, faster than any cub I’ve ever seen. I shall ask Elder Aïna what’smar-ry-ingwhen we arrive tomorrow.
My little dove’s breaths are soft and even, her body relaxing into the nest I made for her. She looks peaceful.
The way her gown drags over her as she moves, revealing a bit of her legs, the moonlight casting a lustrous glow over her skin—I feel it again. My shaft hardening despite my attempts to push the feeling away.Fuck.
This is not the time, not when she’s finally found some peace.
But it’s as if every instinct in me is drawn to her, begging for that connection. I take a deep breath. I must focus on anything else, but the sight of her, so serene, only makes it worse. I wanther in every way, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my four hundred years of living.
The day we’re close enough to sleep together, in every sense of the word, will be the day I howl my lungs away. I’ll be the happiest vólkin alive. But right now my cock throbs painfully even thinking about it. It stings. The torn part of her gown reveals smooth skin beneath, and I can’t hold back anymore. I never thought a furless creature could be so irresistible.
I grasp my shaft, and I fight to suppress the growl rising in my throat. If I make too much noise, I’ll wake her.
My grip tightens as I begin to stroke slowly, inhaling her scent. Goddesses, forgive me. Each stroke is torturous. I speed up, unable to tear my eyes from her. Her cheek is smushed against her hand, her lips parted slightly. I want those lips on me, tasting me, wrapped around my beast. I can’t control it. I...
My hips start moving, meeting my paw. I’ve never been this desperate. If she saw me like this, she’d run, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’d run too. Calling myself a worthy male but stroking myself like this while I watch her sleep, it’s wrong.
Precum leaks over my paw as I stroke faster, rougher, holding back the growls and grunts of pleasure that want to rip from my chest.I want her to hear what she does to me.
Then she stirs, turning over in her sleep. Her gown rides higher, exposing more of her legs. I need those legs spread for me, need them wrapped around my waist as she takes my knot. As it stretches her hole that was made for me. For my seed.
