The rhythm he soon set was maddening in its control. The rightness of it, the perfect fit of their bodies, shattered the last of his resistance. This was where he belonged. This was who he belonged with. The mate bond, a thrumming cord between their souls, ignited into a blinding symphony. Every rationalargument against her, against the bond, evaporated in the furnace of their joining.
Mark her. Make her ours.
His bear’s demand was a primal drumbeat in his blood. The instinct to sink his claws into the skin over her hip, to seal the bond forever, was a physical ache in his chest.
No.
The denial was a weak whisper against the roar. She didn’t even know what they were to each other, and he wasn’t ready for the irrevocable step of a completed bond with a human. For now, there was only this—the slide of skin on skin, the sound of her ragged breathing, the building pressure coiling at the base of his spine.
“Korran… faster.” Her plea was a broken whisper.
His pace shifted from deliberate to desperate. His thrusts became faster, harder, a relentless piston driving them both toward the edge. Her legs locked around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper with every plunge. Her nails scored his skin, the sharp pain a counterpoint to the blinding pleasure.
This was nothing like the casual, physical transactions of his past. This was a convergence, a claiming that went beyond flesh.
Korran could feel her climax gathering, a tidal wave of sensation through the nascent bond. Her inner muscles began to flutter and clench around his cock, her thighs trembling violently against his sides.
“Let go, Tess,” he growled softly.
She finally shattered. Her back arched off the bed, her body convulsing around him. The fierce, rhythmic pulsing of her release was the trigger for his own. With a roar that was more bear than man, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled into her, his climax tearing through him with seismic force. Pleasure, white-hot and endless, obliterated every thought. He collapsedonto her, his forehead pressed to her damp shoulder. Their hearts hammered a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other’s chests.
For long moments, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the sweet scent of their joining. He floated in the aftermath, savoring the feel of her body beneath his, her arms coming up to hold him close.
Then, the anchor slipped.
Before he could process it, she was sliding out from under his weight, leaving the bed in a fluid motion. The cool air hit his skin where her warmth had been. He pushed himself up on his elbow, watching as she snatched a silken robe from the closet and wrapped it around herself.
The swift action was a bucket of ice water. Reality crashed over him, cold and sharp.
What the hell just happened?
One moment he was lost in her, the next she was putting up walls. His bear snarled in confusion and fury.
He rolled off the bed, the high evaporating, leaving a hollow ache. He moved to the sitting area and gathered his discarded clothes from the floor, his movements stiff. The silence in the suite was suddenly oppressive.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gravelly as he pulled his clothes on. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”
She stood by the archway. “It’s not your fault. I was right there with you.” She turned, her expression a careful mask of composure, but he could see the turmoil in her eyes. “But you’re right. We shouldn’t have done that. I’m here to work, not get… tangled up.”
Tangled up.
The phrase was a dull blade to his gut. He gave a sharp nod. “Right. We focus on the investigation from now on. Chalk tonight up to the wine and a moment of… poor judgment.” Hemet her gaze, forcing a neutrality he didn’t feel. “Don’t worry. I won’t pressure you for anything further.”
She nodded once, a tight, professional gesture. “Good.”
“Good night, Tess.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He strode out of her suite, closing the door with a definitive click behind him. But the moment he was alone in the hallway, his bear erupted.
Coward! She is ours! Go back!
He leaned a hand against the stone wall, his head bowed, trying to wrestle the beast back into submission. He’d just put distance between himself and his mate after the most profound experience of his life. He’d reduced it to ‘poor judgment.’
As he stalked toward his own chambers, the new dimension of the mate bond made itself known. It was no longer a faint pull; it was a live wire humming with her emotions. He could feel her want. But underneath it was a spike of guilt—not for the act, but for losing control. And threading through it all, a low, thrumming worry about what it meant, about complications.
Within minutes, he slammed the door to his own chambers, the sound echoing in the emptiness.
Focus on your father’s health. The clan. The territory. Not on the human scientist who is your fated mate.
