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She tried to give me hers while I searched for a drop to share with her. Splayed out beneath me, her cunt full of all the seed I gave her, I had no essence at all for my mate. That’s the downside of being demonic, and why so many of my kind fear losing themselves to the shadows. No essence means no mate’s promise.
But it doesn’t mean no bond. I cling to that myself as my human mate chatters to herself in her language, hurriedly pulling on a covering that keeps me from watching her breasts bob and scenting my musk on her oddly pale skin.
Almost as white as the duke of Sombra’s, my mate’s flesh is as pale as her eyes are dark. Her hair is a softer shade, not as shadowy as mine, and almost as long. Once she has her coverings on—my chest rumbles when I see she’s wearing a human dress, leaving me free to reach beneath the skirt for her cunt when she’s ready to welcome me again—she picks up her hair, tossing it behind her shoulders.
Her breasts jut forward. Even with the fabric covering on, I see the outline of them. My fingers itch to touch them again. They were softer than ungez fur and fit perfectly in my hand.
I wonder how they would taste. Comparable to her cunt? As a student before I went fully demonic, I did research at the School of Mages. Perhaps now it is time to study my mate again.
The light from the human world will weaken me, but it is worth it to approach my female.
When the sunlight sizzled against my shadows earlier, I realized that my time in Sombra’s shadows had me accustomed to the darkness. I thought about melting into the shadows beneath her bed but then I wouldn’t have been able to see her slumber. Through the slight crack between the door to the small den and the rest of her sleeping quarters, I could watch her from these shadows.
I no longer want to just watch her. Ineedto touch her again.
I inch my bare foot out of the small den she has in her quarters.
She throws her hands up. “Hangone derebuddee. Watar udoon? Nonono.”
Ah. The rest of her language is gibberish, but I recognize the ‘no’ sound again.
She must worry about the light weakening me. And while it shall, even then I am strong enough to protect her from anyone who might threaten her.
“Mate,” I say, my voice coming out deeper thanks to the need rushing through me. “Fear not.” I tip my head, making sure she can see both sets of my horns. “Your male is a two-horn.”
She squeals. It’s a high-pitched sound and I puff out my chest. Obviously, she is quite pleased to see that I am one of the powerful demons who has two sets of horns instead of only one.
To show her that I understand, I reach up, stroking the horn in front.
She clutches her breast.
I grin. She is impressed by her male and, though I cannot tell her with words that I would love to lay my palm on one of her mounds, she is offering it to me.
Another step closer. The light makes my shadows faint. With the promise of getting to mate my female again, I shift from my nearly transparent form to my solid shape. I’d prefer to be shadow while I took her again—the sensation wasincredible—but the light is to strong for me to hold that shape. Taking her as a demon will have to work for now.
I must have made a good concession because her dark eyes immediately drop to my hard cock.
When I’m in my shadows, my features aren’t as notable as they are when I’m solid. That’s on purpose. In a realm like Sombra, it’s a camouflage against the dangers in our world. Our bright eyes illuminate the outline of our horns, our nose, and the protective ridges near our brow. Lower, certain details are hidden unless I’m right in front of you.
Solid, with my bare feet flat against her smooth floor, she can see every inch of me. No surprise that she seems entranced by my cock.
It is quite impressive, I must say. I only have one—unlike the demons in Mellizos, a realm where the males havetwosimilar to my double set of horns—but it certainly was enough to pleasure my mate in the time of the shadows.
Even larger when I’m solid, I know she can take me. She did before, and I’d walk through fire to get her to do so again.
“My mate.” I crook my claw at her. “Come to your male.”
“Ohnoe. Imnut fawlin ferdat gen.”
Yes, my mate. I know I am large and you are wee. But the gods granted you as my mate and you are perfect for me.
“Come to Loki,” I tell her, my voice as cajoling as I can make it.
When she starts to move, I believe that she finally understood what I asked. She does not. Instead of walking toward me, she tiptoes away before breaking across the room. I watch her curiously. I’ve heard of bonded couples who prefer to play a game before mating. The female runs, the male chases, and when he catches his female, he takes her where he finds her.
There isn’t much room for my human mate to run from me. Even if it wasn’t a master tracker and hunter, she only goes to the other side of her quarters.
Is this her way of making the hunt easy for her male? If it is, I wish I could tell her that she need not bother. She might not be the demoness I imagined would be mine, but she is beautiful to me. She does not need to trigger my mating instincts to get me to mount her.
