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His cock was... magnificent and terrifying. It was dark, a deep purple-black that contrasted sharply with his skin, with a slight, iridescent sheen that shimmered in the low light like an oil slick. It was long, thick, and uniquely alien—the head slightly flared with ridges that caught the light as his hand slid over them with a desperate, violent speed.

A deep, agonising moan tore from his throat—a sound of pure, unadulterated hunger. I watched the way the thick veins stood out on his forearms, the way his tail lashed the floor in a frantic whip-crack. He looked like a god of the forest coming apart at the seams, his entire body shaking as he forced himself toward a release he seemed to be fighting and craving at once.

He threw his head back, his thick neck corded, and I saw his forked tongue dart out to lick his lips in a sharp, primal gesture. Each stroke of his hand was wet, the sound echoing in the small hut, making my heart race in my throat. He was muttering my name—a low, broken rasp of "Ly-ra"—as he pumped himself, his hips jerking forward with a raw, animalistic need.

The sight sent a wave of liquid heat crashing through me. My face burned, and I felt a familiar, shameful throb between my own legs, a dampness that made my new leather clothing feel suddenly too tight. I was terrified, flustered, and utterly fascinated. I knew I should run, but I was rooted to the spot, watching the Huntmaster lose his mind to the image of me, his moan deepening into a guttural roar as he neared the edge.

Chapter 15

Kaelen-Thul

The world had narrowed to the frantic, wet slide of my palm and the harsh friction of the Haka-hide against my thighs. My vision was swimming, the blue hearth-fire bleeding into the charcoal shadows of the hut. I was the Huntmaster. I was the law of the Great Tree. But in this moment, I was nothing more than a beast driven by a ghost.

Ly-ra.

Her name was a broken rhythm in my mind, timed to every heavy, desperate thrust of my hand. I could still feel the phantom weight of her in the pool, the way her pale, rose-tipped breasts had defied the crimson water. The Zha-root was fading into a hollow ache, leaving my nerve endings raw and screaming. I needed the release. I needed to purge the image of her from my blood before it drove me to something I could not undo.

My claws dug into the centre post, carving deep, splintered furrows into the ancient wood. I let out a low, guttural roar, my hips jerking with a violent, animalistic force. My member was a dark, rigid weight of fire, pulsing in my grip. I could feel the pressure building, the white-hot heat coiling at the base of my spine, ready to shatter me.

I gave one final, punishing stroke.

The world exploded in a blinding flash of copper light. My muscles locked, my head snapping back as a hoarse, harrowing moan was ripped from my lungs. I spilt with a violence that left me trembling. The seed of my kind erupted from me—thick, viscous, and glowing with a faint, iridescent bioluminescence that shimmered like liquid starlight against my skin. It was the mark of the Pulse, a physical manifestation of the life-force I had just wasted on a fantasy.

"Gah-shak!" I roared, the word turning into a snarl.

Driven by a sudden spike of self-loathing, I pulled my fist back and slammed it into the wooden beam. The impact vibrated through my entire arm, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the small space. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be a slave to the scent of a creature who didn't belong here. I didn't want my blood to sing for a poison.

I slumped against the post, my chest heaving, my forehead resting against the bark I had just shredded. My knuckles throbbed, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the heat in my gut.

For a long minute, there was only the sound of my labouring hearts. Then, the air changed.

My ears flicked. My nostrils flared, taking a long, deep pull of the draft. Violet. The Vra-oil. But beneath it, the honeyed, metallic tang of her arousal—the unmistakable chemical signature of a female who had been watching.

"Enter, star-woman," I rasped, my voice a low, possessive growl that vibrated through the floorboards. "I can smell you through the wood. Do not make me come out and fetch you."

The bone-latch rattled. The door creaked open, and Lyra stepped inside, her face a violent, burning shade of red. She stood there, frozen in the doorway, her fingers twisting the edge of the black fur shawl. She looked small, flustered, and utterly out of her depth in the musk-heavy shadows of my home.

I began to circle her, my movements slow and predatory, my tail twitching behind me. My markings were still pulsing a low, dangerous gold, reflecting off my sweat-slicked skin.

"You are poison," I murmured, my voice a coarse edge of frustration as I paced the perimeter of her space. "You are poison to this planet. You are poison to my tribe. And you are a poison in my blood, Ly-ra. From the moment you fell from the sky, you have brought nothing but chaos."

I saw her lower lip tremble. A crystalline tear welled in the corner of her eye, glistening in the hearthlight. For a heartbeat, a pang of something like regret pierced through my anger, seeing her so fragile against the weight of my words. But she didn't crumble. She blinked the tear back, her chin lifting with that sharp, stubborn fire that made my blood sing even as it infuriated me.

"Well," she whispered, her voice gaining a sharp, defiant strength. "If I'm so toxic, maybe you should have let Vahn have me. At least then you wouldn't have to worry about your blood pressure or your precious 'disharmony'."

A low, dry chuckle rumbled in my chest. Even now, cornered and shaking, she held a blade in her tongue.

I stepped into her personal space, the heat of my body clashing with the cool night air she’d brought in. I reached for the bone clasp of her shawl. My fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, and I felt her entire body shiver. I pulled the fur from her shoulders, intending to toss it aside, but the motion died in my hands.

In the flickering blue light, she was wrapped in the Haka-hide of my people. The dark leather hugged her pale curves, and the wrap-skirt sat low on her hips, exposing the soft, vulnerable span of her midriff. She looked like a shadow-spirit born of the Great Tree itself. My throat went dry. Seeing her in my colours, my materials... it hit harder than any root. It made her look like she was mine to keep.

I forced myself to pull back, my jaw tightening until it ached. "Sleep," I commanded, my voice tight and strained. "The sun will bring a new hunt. Tomorrow, I will train you for basic survival. If you are to reside here, you will not be a burden to my warriors. You will learn to move as we move."

She didn't argue. She gave a stiff, stubborn nod and moved toward the sleeping mats, pulling the heavy furs up to her chin. I turned to walk toward the door, needing the cold canopy air to settle the heat still simmering in my gut.

"Kaelen?"

I paused, my hand on the heavy wood of the doorframe, my back still turned to her.