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Her body hummed with terror, feeling restless and powerless. She paced in front of the mirror, eventually gazing at herself and doing the only thing she thought might be helpful at that moment; she pulled the hair tie from her head, shaking her blonde hair free, then frantically began to strip.
It was absurd, but she thought she could entice him into simply running away with her and Marigold, forgetting all about the bear council and the insurrection, if she offered him her body. Her voluptuous, succulent, luscious, and insatiable body.
She padded to a drawer and pulled the black silk robe she had brought with her, wrapping it around her body quickly as she heard Marigold’s bedroom door open and close. She ruffled her hair quickly, casting over the front of her breasts in a disheveled reckless abandon, then sat on the bed. Lyra had crossed her legs and sat up straight, making her already generous bust poke out from her body like two tremendous melons.
Timber turned the doorknob slowly, and it was then that she decided to do something daring. She uncrossed her legs and spread them out the length of the bed, exposing herself to her mate. She leaned back on the bed, puffing out her chest like a bird of prey, feeling sexy, vulnerable, and afraid all at once.
Timber’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he finally entered the room. His eyes magnetized down between her legs, his pupils shrinking like a shark’s during hunting season. Her pussy pulsed as he slowly descended to his knees.
“Well,” he said in a low, gritty tone, staring into the eye of her pleasure dome. “Good fucking evening to you too, darling."
Lyra felt briefly elated, his warm breath washing over her wet clit like a soft wind as he moved closer, her thighs trembling with anticipation. He ran his hands under her bent knees, then settled her ass between the bulk of his biceps. He kissed the inside of her thighs, the spongy, sensitive trail to her kingdom.
She finally spoke, her voice shaky, having nearly completely forgotten what she had spread herself out for.
“Don’t fight,” she purred. “Don’t fight tomorrow, baby. Let’s just all go somewhere else, you, me, and Marigold."
He had been musing between her legs with his eyes closed, kissing each patch with a poet’s tenderness. When she spoke, he paused, looking up at her with a seriousness that wasn’t intimidating.
“I have to fight, honey,” he said, continuing his way to her center. “I’m their leader now. Like I’m your mate, I have to follow through.”
Lyra scolded herself for literally putting herself in such a position. There was no way to argue with him when his pink tongue was slithering out between his lips, gliding up the length of her folds and resting against her electric nub that was screaming for his attention.
She gasped, then let out a moan that would make Venus blush. She fell back to the bed, simultaneously letting go of her fear while she untied the sash of her robe.
They made love nearly all night, the vigor and ruthlessness on an entirely other level. Lyra felt the anguish of her desperation as she rode his cock, encouraged him to take her from behind, and pinned his head between her legs for what felt like the fourth or fifth time in a matter of hours. Her body was buzzing and transcendently satisfied, and just before dawn, they fell into an undisturbed doze.
Lyra wanted to believe the length of their lovemaking that night wasn’t a form of farewell. She knew it when they locked eyes, when they felt each other climaxing, that he wasn’t going to change his mind. It was a double-edged sword caring for him, as she worshiped his commitment while also detesting it at the same time.
It was the morning of the fight, and they slept naked in each other’s arms.
THIRTY-NINE
TIMBER
Timber woke the morning after making love to Lyra, their two bodies nearly fused as one with cosmic entanglement. He detected the scent of rain in the air as tangerine orange streams spilled through the curtains. The sunrise was ominous and breathtaking all at once.
He didn’t know what time they had finally fallen off to sleep, but it didn’t matter. It was the day of the fight, and he had to prepare physically, mentally, and spiritually. He rose from the bed, showered, and dressed, moving lightly so as to not wake Lyra. She slept soundly, laying on her side like an angelic sculpture, a masterpiece entombed in porcelain.
He would be lying if he didn’t admit that tiring her out with his own body hadn’t been part of his plan. He had wanted to soothe her fears the way one irons out wrinkles, and he felt he had, plucking her pleasure strings like an expert instrumentalist.
Timber grinned to himself in the raging morning light, tempted to kiss her awake. But he didn’t. Instead, he left a note next to the bedside table and clothed and fed Marigold before departing.
The other women arrived soon after he woke and tended to his daughter. He told them Lyra had a long, difficult night, and she was resting for a bit. A twinkle in their eyes informed them they knew the truth of his sly tale.
He had told Lyra in his note to stay home with the other women so they wouldn’t risk getting hurt. He would spend the day preparing, and then later, when the battle was won, he would return to her … victorious.
But Timber knew Lyra better than that. She was as stubborn and dedicated as she was beautiful.
Timber went to the site of the battle and ate with the other shifters. They would observe the battle along with the rest of the bear council and their representative Edmund. Just before dusk, the chrome-colored sky began to pelt rain as it had been threatening all day.
Timber stood at the center of their constructed ring, which was merely a few evergreen trees and old soil. The air was damp and reeked of dying leaves, the soil beneath his feet soaking up the drops from the clouds.
He stood there, having removed his shirt and pants, wearing only his boxers. Edmund and the council arrived just before the precise second of dusk. Timber felt cool and collected, having placed Lyra’s fear in a secret compartment of his mind.
Edmund climbed out of the SUV they had pulled into the woods, and Timber felt his confidence falter for a second. The man was as wide as a mountain, a few feet taller than him, and beckoning like a giant from another time.
He stomped toward him, removing his shirt and pants. Elias pulled the hood of his robe down, acting as the referee for the commencing fight. The rest of the council stood under a flow of umbrellas held up by lower-level council members. It was a pathetic sight, to say the least.
