Mated to the Warrior Beast

Harth always wondered what it would be like to finally take her mate.

She kissed a male before, had felt desire clouded with uncertainty. She’d considered males when she was young, and as an adult faced the inevitability of a forced mating at the hands of the humans. But she’d been saved.

Never the female selected for the mating tests.

Yet, as the years had passed, her body abused by the humans for other experiments, she’d slowly begun to despair.

When Sasha had arrived in the human ‘sanctuary’ promising relief, promising freedom, she’d hardly dared hope.

And then that incredible day when the males had arrived to take them out, showed them to the Gateway and she’d arrived here.

And from the moment she’d stepped foot on Anima soil, her heart almost pulled from her chest, bearing her forward, driving her out, away.

To him, she now realized.

.....

As if by living in separate worlds and building separate lives, the yearning of the bond, the hope of it, had been condensed.

The moment he’d made the vow and her blood had come alive with the tingling, burning promise of it all, she’d given over.

Hell, the truth was, the moment he’d opened his mouth in that barren hollow and called her mate, she’d surrendered.

There were no questions in her mind-no fears left. As he tumbled her to the furs and their bodies called to each other, she could only arch, and sigh, kiss and burn.

He was Mate. The other half.

He was her wholeness, and her body knew it.

She ached within, hollow and needy, her body yearning-not for the act, not for the joining, but for him. To be made complete, only with him.

Mine, she’d called him. Only mine, and she’d tasted his throat, challenging him to trust her as she trusted him. Putting her life in his hands. Putting her heart-her soul-within his grasp.

And he had... bless his handsome soul, he had.

Harth had thought often about how it might be between her and her mate when the day finally came. She’d wished for passion, hoped for desire, prayed to find her match.

But she’d never in her life imagined this.

She was consumed. Her blood burned in her veins. Her body shook, rolling, rippling of its own accord. Her mind-near silent-boggled.

When he rasped, “Mine,” and arched against her, his body seeking, pressing, sending jolts of heat and want jangling through her, her world became very, very small.

When he growled it again, “Mine,” and his lips explored her jaw, her neck, her throat, the universe sucked in-everything disappearing except him. Every inch of her skin pebbled with tingling want, every hair rising to seek him.

“Only mine,” he ground out as if the words fought for release. She thought he would take her then, and she arched her back, curling her legs around his waist. But he hesitated, braced himself to lift his head again and search her gaze.

Harth always wondered what it would be like to finally take her mate. But she’d always imagined that moment to be one of the physical-a joining.

She had never imagined that even before his body invaded, the moment he met her eyes, chest expanding like a bellows, eyes flickering with the gold of a lion, that it would slice like a sword, straight to her heart.

Overcome with the beauty of him, she lifted her hands to hold his precious face and begged.

‘Please, Tarkyn. I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. Please.”

And when he stared, stunned, as if she’d given him a gift, she did the only thing she knew-she pulled herself close and took his mouth, surrendering to the wave of sensation that rippled through her from that simple contact.

Her heart twirled, spinning, faster and faster, sucking every ounce of love, every ember of desire, every quivering drop of trust and weaving it together in an ever-growing sphere that held her in its grip.

Tarkyn came alive, shuddering, eyes flaring, hands curled to cup her neck, his thumbs on her cheeks. He roared his soul to her as he arched and found her, plunging into her in a shocking, dazzling moment of pleasure mingled with pain that she felt to the soles of her feet.

“Harth!” he cried, desperate, pleading.

She whimpered, eyes closed, mind empty of everything but heat and hurt-that aching hollow within soothed for only a moment before he pulled almost all the way out and she cried out, her hands slapping to his back as she clung, fear that he would leave her overwhelming in its power.

“Don’t stop!” she gasped.

“Never,” he hissed between gritted teeth, then plunged back in.

Harth’s head sank back, her throat bare for his taking, as everything-even the pain-faded in the wake of the sheer joy of their joining.

She had no desire beyond the need for him. No pleasure except that he touched. No thought, but that he was here. He was finally here. Her mate. Her soul. Her Pair.

“Harth... dear Lord, you’re beautiful.” His voice was hoarse, desperate. His presence was an assault, and onslaught, and yet she felt no fear-only a plea.

More.

Only more.

He filled her again and again, his body seeking, hers calling him closer, nearer, deeper. Her skin humming with the pleasure of him. Her body alive in a way she’d never experienced before-and one with his.

She was his. She was truly his, and he hers.

Harth sobbed her joy as he wrapped an arm around her head, took her mouth and covered her, his free hand finding every curve, every ripple of her skin and pulling her closer, until his longer fingers closed at the back of her knee and pulled her leg over his hip.

With a desperate groan, he thrust again and the way he’d positioned her changed the angle.

The most delicious pressure began to build within her.

Trembling, groaning his own need, Tarkyn lifted his shoulders, but arched his back, his bicep curled next to her ear, a marble pillar of his strength. She gripped it, using it to lift her hips to meet him as he pulled himself even deeper within her.

A wave of pleasure began to shimmer at the edge of her awareness, as if his call was made flesh, drawing her, easing her ever closer.

With every roll of his hips she climbed closer to the crest of it, her body beginning to shake, her voice trembling as everything within her rushed to meet him.

Then he called her name in a guttural groan, and the sound of his voice-shredded, the sight of his handsome face broken with pleasure, tipped her over the crest of that wave and she was plunged, screaming, spinning, down into a vast well of pleasure, the likes of which she’d never known.

Breathless, it tumbled her, head over heels, devouring everything until her body became nothing but a receptor of him-a raw, humming nerve of bliss.

He moved within her again, and lights exploded in her vision as he called for her.

Then she landed, back on earth, trembling and stunned, sucking at the air, blinking, and holding him to her, as he gave a guttural moan and collapsed, his nose buried in her neck, his arm curled over her head.

And then, though neither of them spoke, both panting, his breath rushing against her skin, though Tarkyn trembled, he settled himself over her, his weight a precious cover, and curled a gentle hand over her head as his lips brushed that sensitive skin under her ear.

“Mine,” he whispered so softly. There was no demand in it. No ache. Just the simple declaration.

Harth turned her head to meet his glowing eyes, tears of love blurring her vision. She reached up to curl her fingers at the back of his shoulder, fighting the urge to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

“Mine,” she whispered back. “Only mine.”