Page 46

A word he'd spent twenty years fighting against. Control was safety; surrender was vulnerability. Yet with her, the two concepts blurred into something new—something stronger.

"Total surrender," he agreed, the words a vow.

He moved closer to her on the bed, his large hands gentle as he guided her down against the dark silk sheets. Morning light caught the gold in her dark hair and painted her skin with warmth. His lion roared internally, demanding he rush, claim, mark, complete the bond now. But Raxen ignored the primal urgency. He would savor this. He would honor this woman and this moment with the reverence it deserved.

His mouth found the delicate skin of her throat first, tracing the frantic pulse there. "I held back for so long," he confessed against her skin, his lips moving lower.

He reached the valley between her breasts, his hands cradling her curves as if she were made of spun glass. His mouth followed, taking one hardened peak into his mouth. Amara gasped, her back arching off the bed. Pleasure, sharp and bright, spiked through the mate bond and echoed through his own nerves. The connection between them hummed, amplifying every sensation until he felt her arousal as his own.

"You taste like heaven," he growled, switching his attention to her other breast, his tongue circling slowly and deliberately. Her hands tightened in his hair, not guiding, just feeling.

"I didn't know it could feel like this," she breathed.

"Neither did I." The honest admission was easier than he'd expected. He'd been with women before, but this was different.

This was communion.

He kissed a path down the gentle slope of her abdomen, his lips brushing over warm skin and the subtle muscles beneath. His fingers found the fastening of her trousers, and he made quick work of the button, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both her trousers and the lace beneath. In one smooth movement, he stripped them down her long legs and tossed the fabric aside. Then she lay bare before him, trembling, her desire a palpable force in the room. His lion surged again, a frantic pressure behind his eyes.

Now. Mark her now.

Raxen closed his eyes, wresting control back from the beast.

No. She deserves more than a frantic claiming. She deserves to know this matters.

"Raxen," Amara whispered, her voice thick with desire.

"Shhh," he soothed, settling between her thighs. His hands slid beneath her, lifting her hips to meet his mouth. "Let me worship you the way you deserve."

His first taste was a revelation. She was perfect. Sweet and utterly intoxicating. A loud, broken cry tore from her throat as his tongue found her sensitive folds, and the sound went straight to his already-throbbing cock.

Her hands flew back to his hair, gripping tight. "There," she gasped, her hips moving against his mouth. "Right there."

He obeyed, his tongue finding the tight bundle of nerves and circling it with slow, relentless pressure. Her pleasure spiked again through the bond, a cresting wave that made his own body clench with sympathetic need.

"More," she begged, her composure shattering. "Please, Raxen."

He'd never been one for teasing, and he couldn't deny his mate. His mouth worked her more deeply, his tongue stroking and tasting while one hand slid up to cradle her hip. With his other hand, he entered her with two fingers, curling them upward. The dual sensation was her undoing. Her whole body went rigid, and a second later, her orgasm crashed over her, convulsing through her frame. The mate bond flooded with her ecstasy—bright, blinding, and overwhelming. He rode the wave with her, his mouth relentless until the last shudder passed through her and she collapsed back onto the sheets, boneless and spent.

He lifted his head, watching her chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, and a smile of deep satisfaction curved her lips. Pride, fierce and warm, bloomed in his chest. He'd done that. He'd given her that. But his own need was alive now, a clawing hunger that demanded his attention. His cock ached, hard and desperate against the confines of his pants. The urge to claim her, to finally complete their bond and make her irrevocably his, was a physical pain. He crawled back up her body, bracing himself over her. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with pleasure and affection.

"You're still dressed," she noted, her fingers plucking at the open buttons of his shirt.

Raxen reluctantly stood up from the bed as his control, a fortress he'd spent decades constructing, now felt like a distant, irrelevant concept. The half-buttoned white shirt felt like a prison, and he yanked it open, sending the remaining buttons scattering across the polished floor with soft clicks. Then he shucked the dark pants and his boxers in one impatient motion, kicking them aside.

He stood naked before her, every muscle taut, his cock hard and straining with a need that was as much about the soul-deep bond as the physical act. Her eyes dropped, widening for a second before a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. That smile, confident and full of promise, hit him harder than any physical blow ever could.

"Come here," she said, her voice low and rich with invitation.

He didn't hesitate. He was on the bed in a single motion, the frame groaning softly under his weight as he moved over her. He braced himself on his forearms, caging her in, his eyes locked on hers. Her scent—lavender, pear, and now the heady musk of her own arousal—wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

"You're completely sure about this?" he murmured, a final offering of control. He would stop if she blinked, even if it killed him.

She answered by pulling him closer. "I'm completely sure."

He pressed firmly against her warm body, and entered her slowly, an inch at a time, giving her body every chance to adjust to the considerable size of his cock. Her head fell back against the pillows, a low, shuddering moan escaping her lips as he filled her completely. She was so tight, so impossibly warm and perfect, her inner muscles fluttering around him in a welcome that made his vision blur.

Mine.