Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
A noise erupts from my chest—a soft purr that deepens and expands. She can’t hear it but I’m trying to soothe her.
Ever since I reached adulthood, I’ve been alone. I’ve never cared this much about another person. I’ve done my best by my people, but that was more out of duty and obligation. Aside from brief commands to my councilors, I’ve barely spoken to another person in decades. And now I’m attuned to one as if her moods, wants, and fears are my own. Is this the bond? But how could it be, since I have not yet claimed her?
These feelings are like moonflower vines, bursting through the soil and stretching towards the newfound light. My world was dark, so dark, but now she is here, shining so bright, I am blinded. She is my guiding star.
I must go to her. She’s struggling, and I can feel her distress building in my chest like a physical ache. Tossing down my half-finished project, I throw on a robe with a hood, draw it down over my face, and hurry to save my Omega.
She needs me.
I stride down the corridors, ordering the whisps to cover the windows and cut the orb lights. My scent swirls around me, intensifying. Rose’s sweet aroma hits me, and I growl.
I erupt through the door to the chamber. My Omega is perched anxiously on the edge of the bed, her face down, her fingers obsessively stroking the comforter.
She looks up, her dark eyes wide, and in that instant I order the whisps to dim the orbs, plunging us into darkness.
She sucks in a breath. “Who’s there?” My scent must hit her then because she lets out a sigh. “Oh. It’s you.”
My throat is tight with anxiety. “Little one,” I manage, “are you in distress?”
Her hand goes to her mouth and she makes a noise halfway between a choke and a sob.
I’m by her side instantly, pulling her to my chest, stroking her back, growing dizzy from her honeyed scent. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
She shakes her head, her face still buried in the folds of my cloak.
The sudden low rumble surprises us both. Rose starts, then leans back a little to glance at my face before crawling into my lap.
I’m purring. I didn’t know I could purr before today. Before I met her. It’s instinctual, almost like breathing. Alphas purr to soothe and comfort their Omegas. It’s like a natural sedative.
And it’s working.
My mate curls against me in a fetal position, her fingers clenched in my robe, her cheek pressed against my chest.
“Poor little Omega,” I murmur.
“I’m not an Omega.” Her voice is muffled.
This again? She’s so determined to fight her nature.
Let’s see if I can show her what she truly is.
I continue to purr and stroke her. Comforting her this way is almost as satisfying as rutting her.
I cannot say why Ulf decided to send this jewel to me but one thing is certain: she belongs to me now. I would kill anyone who tried to part us.
Just the thought is enough to make my purr become a low growl, and Rose’s reaction is an instant moan of desire. She moves in my lap until she’s straddling me, her hands on my shoulders, her mouth an inch from mine.
I kiss her hungrily, my hand on the back of her head, my cock giving a jerk as my tongue finds hers. I slide my thighs wider apart, spreading her open, until the tight skirt of her dress has ridden up above her hips and her sex is suspended in mid-air, easily accessible. Reaching down, I cup the hot, slick part of her—
Why in Ulf’s name is she wearing underwear? I’ll order the whisps to burn every last scrap of it. Roaring into our kiss, I carefully slide a claw under the material and tear it so I can remove the offending garment. Then I retract my claws and resume growling.
She lets out another moan as my fingers find her cunt and part her lips, holding her open, dragging my thumb over that rigid bud where they meet.
“Oh fuck,” she gasps, breaking the kiss and burying her face in my shoulder.
“You like that?” I croon and her clit jumps in answer. “I think you do.”
“Fuck me.” Her voice is thick. Desperate. “Now. Fuck me now… please.”
“Oh I’ll fuck you, little one. You were made for the rut. Made to take my cock—and my seed. But first, I want to make you come right here, just like this, all splayed open and vulnerable.”
She grips me tighter and her clit leaps beneath my touch.
“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you? This little bud—” I trace circles over it with my thumb, “is so very hard, and you’re making so much slick, it’s dripping into my palm. If I took my hand away, you would be gushing all over the floor.”