12. Donna

12

DONNA

T he moment my lips touch his, the world around us fades away. The howling wind, the swaying grass, the looming danger—all of it recedes into the background, overshadowed by the electric current that surges between us.

At first, Tovan is still, his body rigid with surprise. I can feel his confusion, his hesitation. But then, as if a switch has been flipped, he responds with a fervor that takes my breath away. His lips move against mine, clumsy at first, then with growing confidence as he mirrors my movements.

The kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s been a while, I’ll say that. A while since anyone has touched me like this. Kissed me like this. But there’s a rawness to this, a primal intensity that makes my toes curl and my heart race. His lips are softer than I expected, the contact between us more enjoyable than I thought it would be. The sweetness I smelled earlier is there too, a hint of something exotic and intoxicating on his tongue.

I lose myself in the sensation, my hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Tovan responds in kind, one hand cupping the back of my head while the other presses hard into the grass at my side.

This is insane , I think, even as I arch into his touch. What am I thinking? What am I doing? But the rational part of my brain is quickly being drowned out by the flood of sensations overwhelming me. I’m caught in a whirlwind of desire and doubt, unable and unwilling to break free.

The kiss deepens, grows more urgent. I can feel the heat building between us, threatening to consume us both. Tovan’s body shifts against mine, every point of contact slowly shattering my will—the press of his chest against mine, the weight of him between my thighs, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

But just as I’m about to lose myself completely, Tovan pulls back. His eyes are wild, pupils almost invisible, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. For a moment, I fear I’ve crossed a line—my own line, and probably his too. Afraid that he’ll pull away and I’ll be left to face the consequences of my lapse in good judgment. But then he speaks, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Not here,” he says, the words more felt than heard over the roaring wind.

Before I can process what’s happening, Tovan is moving. He rises to his feet, bringing me with him. I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, cradling me against his chest as if I weigh nothing at all. It’s a stark reminder of his strength, and rather than frightening me, it sends a thrill of excitement instead.

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my head against his shoulder. From this vantage point, I can feel the rapid beat of his heart, smell the intoxicating scent of his skin. I’m still breathless from our kiss, my mind reeling from the intensity of it all as I tighten my legs around his waist. He grips me with those arms, his palms splaying over the expanse of my behind. Even that makes a skitter of electricity shoot straight to my core.

I tell myself I’m not this easy. That these simple touches shouldn’t affect me so. That I need to resist this, whatever it is. But another part of me is suddenly defenseless.

Tovan turns, facing into the wind and I press more into him, shielding myself against his hardness. I can feel the tension in his muscles as he braces himself against the gale. For a moment, I worry that even his strength won’t be enough against this wind. But then he’s moving, each step deliberate and sure, carrying us both back towards the safety of my cottage.

The journey seems both endless and far too short. Part of me wants to stay like this forever, safe in Tovan’s arms, sheltered from the storm. Another part is eager to reach the cottage, to safety. And yet, another part is terrified of both.

There are a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea.

A thousand reasons and a million lessons in the past as to why I should end this here. End it now.

As Tovan carries me across the porch, as he kicks the door open and we step inside away from the storm, I expect him to set me down. That I’ll get a moment to breathe and think clearly.

I’m wrong.

Tovan presses me against the door as soon as it closes, caging his body between my thighs as my back presses into the wood. Outside, the wind rages. A loud howl that screams through the windows. But not even that can pull my attention away from this moment. For a beat, we stand like that, both breathing heavily, the air between us charged with enough electricity to create a thunderstorm. Tovan’s eyes search mine, seeking permission. Reassurance.

And I am weak.

Desperate for more of a touch I didn’t know I’d been yearning for so badly.

I answer by pulling him in for another kiss, my hands, which should be pushing him away, find their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Tovan meets me halfway, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that almost startles. His claws roam my body as if he knows this is just a moment’s lapse in my judgment, one chance before I push him away again. He’s hungry, starved even, and I can feel the intensity of his desire in every touch—in a way I’ve never felt from anyone, any other man, before.

Tovan is…consuming.

When his claws slide up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, I jerk with the jolt of pleasure it sends through me. I arch into his touch, a silent plea for more, one I’m too scared to put into words.

With a growl, those claws move to cup my breasts, fingers kneading the soft flesh as if it were a ground he’s desperate to claim. Through my dress, I can feel the pressure of his touch and it’s not enough. I want more. I want the barrier gone, even though that would mean opening up myself some more.

Tovan grunts against me, shudders more like, as he slowly breaks our kiss. Both of our chests heaving, he meets my gaze before his eyes drop to my chest where his claws are still pressed against me there. His throat moves, probably a silent plea in itself, one that’s screaming at the fever pitch of my own need growing within me.

Because my doubts are quickly fading away. In their place is a simple, powerful thought:

Fuck it.

Life is short. Unpredictable. How many chances do we get for moments like this? How many chances have I gotten? How many more will I get out here on a world that’s not my own?

Without another thought, without letting fear take hold, I reach up, my fingers gripping the neckline of my tunic. It’s one of those stretchy ones the Initiative provided, thankfully designed to accommodate a variety of human body types. I tug it down over my shoulders, the soft fabric whispering against my skin as it shifts down my arms, revealing my neck, my shoulders, and the rise of my breasts. For a heartbeat, I freeze, exposed, the cool air a shock against my heated flesh. Shame, hot and fast, threatens to overwhelm me.

I’m not twenty-two anymore. My body has changed. I—

It’s Tovan’s low rumbling growl that erases every thought in my head. His focus holds me captive.

His claws, still resting against my breasts, tighten. It’s such a possessive gesture that sends a shiver of both fear and anticipation down my spine.

Gently, he shifts his claws to hook into the neckline of my dress, tugging it the rest of the way down my chest, exposing me fully to his gaze.

“Frakk,” he mutters.

His eyes, already dark with desire, turn molten as he takes in the sight of me. I swallow past the slight lump in my throat, my body too hot, too needy. I should say something. I should stop this. I should—

But Tovan suddenly leans down, capturing one taut peak in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. I gasp, my body jostling in his grip where he still has me pressed up against the door.

I don’t know what I expected. But I know I never expected it to feel this good.

“Oh,” I moan, my hands moving to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as waves of pleasure wash over me. He growls against my skin, the vibration sending another shock of electricity straight to my core.

There’s a rumble in his throat, one that momentarily deafens the screech of the wind just outside my door as he moves to lavish the same attention on my other breast.

“Tovan,” I breathe. That’s all I can say. The sensation, the pleasure, I feel myself moisten and drip. With the heat of those lips he’s sent me past my last boundary.

Tovan sucks, tongue swirling, while his claws slide down to grip my hips. They sink into my flesh again, his touch possessive, hungry. He’s not gentle, but I know he’s trying to be. I can feel the restraint in his touch, the delicate balance between his strength and his desire not to hurt me. I can feel the hard length of him pressed against me, too, only the thin fabric of his pants and my dress separating us. I grind against him, seeking friction, seeking more and he groans, a deep, guttural sound as he lifts me again, pulling me off the door.

We stumble further into the cottage, neither of us willing to break the contact between us. I’m dimly aware of the fact that his lips are leaving my nipple, traveling across my skin as he heads up to my collarbone, my neck, my throat.

When they meet mine again, I lose sense of time and space.

Dimly, I can still hear the wind outside. Still hear the storm raging. But it’s drowned out by the heavy beats of my heart. Of the rumbling sounds coming from the male against me as he pulls down what’s left of my tunic just as we reach my bedside. Those hungry claws rove over me again, stopping at my panties as he does an almost comical pause in his movements. He’s never encountered panties before, that’s clear, but his pause is momentary. In the next second, he strips them too.

Tovan sets me down but doesn’t release me. His claws are notched into the flesh at my hips, kneading as his gaze swallows me whole.

“Lira’an,” he rasps, voice low, so gravelly it’s hard to hear the actual words. “You’re perfect. So soft. So frakking beautiful.”

Oh, to be praised. Where I would usually brush off such words and get on with my day, Tovan’s make me tremble. Maybe it’s the way he’s staring down at me, those golden eyes swirling with hunger. No one has ever looked at me like that. Not even those who claimed they loved me before.

His throat moves, his claws still kneading the flesh at my hips as his gaze slides over my form. He takes everything in, every part of me, every imperfection, every bit I’d normally try to hide, and the look in his eyes doesn’t change.

His gaze roams my body with an intensity that makes me feel simultaneously exposed and cherished. But when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a vulnerability there that catches me off guard. I don’t know how I see it, staring into eyes so yellow even the dark hole of his pupil seems non-existent. Maybe it’s the way he’s paused, contemplating, kneading my hips as he drinks me in.

Maybe it’s that hesitation that makes me realize something.

Despite my openness, my bare skin before him, Tovan isn’t rushing to take advantage. His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, but restrained. There’s a question in his eyes, a silent request for permission that speaks volumes about who he is as a male.

This is the male that declared I’m his kahl . The male I thought wanted me—not because he thought he met someone who he could truly see a future with, but someone who he thought was vulnerable enough to fall into his trap.

I’m struck by the realization that this isn’t just about physical desire for him. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and line of my body. As if he truly wants me .

“Donna,” he finally says. “I am at the precipice of control. I do not want to hurt you. Your trust is more important than this.”

This is it. The moment of truth. One last chance for me to turn back. But as I look up at Tovan, feeling the weight of claws clutching me as if I belong to him, the depth of emotion in his eyes, I know there’s only one answer I can give.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m sure.”

Tovan releases such a deep groan that I swear the air vibrates.

His gaze drops to the center of my thighs, and for the first time since we collapsed outside in the wind, his pupils shift, suddenly growing larger. The soft patch of curls between my legs does nothing to hide what’s there. And now he can see it. My most sensitive place.

Tovan parts my legs, his touch reverent, almost hesitant, as if I’m a delicate flower he’s afraid to bruise, but despite his gentleness, I’m suddenly hit with the fact this is probably the first human female anatomy he’s ever seen.

“You are…” He trails off, his voice an even huskier whisper. “You are… extraordinary.”

The heat that flares in my cheeks is almost visible against the richness of my skin. Because I thought he was looking at me like a man obsessed before? Now he’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful, the most fascinating creature he’s ever laid eyes on. In that moment, as his fingers trace a slow, lingering path along my inner thigh, sending shivers of delight dancing across my skin, I know I’ve made the right decision.

Tovan utters another harsh growl. When he suddenly dips, bracing low over me, it puts him face-to-face with my folds. Before I can even grunt in surprise, his head lowers and my thoughts disengage from my mind.

Tovan drags the flat, broad surface of his tongue over my entirety, another growl going through him as he barely takes a breath before diving for more again. My toes curl, my head throwing back, my fingers digging into my sheets as I take in a deep breath. Tovan grips my hip with one claw, the other forcing my legs open and he groans into my pussy before taking another taste.

He’s eating me like a starved man.

His long tongue delves between my folds, lapping while making a map of every single inch of me.

“Exquisite,” he rumbles, as his nose presses hard into my clit, that tongue of his seeking out my folds until it slips inside me. “The sweetest gift…”

I jerk at the sudden invasion, seeing stars.

The desperate sounds that spill from my lips only urge him further, coaxing my thighs to fall impossibly wider as he thrusts his tongue deep. The room is suddenly filled with the wet, slurping sounds of his mouth on my flesh, punctuated by my moans and gasps. I’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—and yet, for the first time, I don’t feel the need to launch a defense. I don’t feel the need to find some strength within me to protect myself.

Tovan groans, curling his tongue as he pulls it from within me only to run it through my folds once more. When it hits my clit, I jerk again, pleasure disguised as a sob leaving my lips as he pauses. He does it again and again, eyes flicking up to watch my face contort and my body jerk. And then I see the pleased glint in his eyes. He laps at my clit now, flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue before sucking softly. The sensation is pure bliss, sending electrifying jolts straight to my core. I arch my back, my hands gripping the sheets so tightly that they might tear. I can’t help but moan his name. I call it out as if I’ve screamed it before in moments just like this.

Tovan’s response is instantaneous. He growls, the vibration of it echoing against my core. He presses a little harder, shifting a claw to my clit as his tongue penetrates me more deeply now, the movements slow and deliberate. It’s as if he’s drawing out every last drop of pleasure, every ounce of sensation.

I’m close, so close to the edge.

“I’m going to—” Oh God, I’m really going to. It’s been so long, it almost feels too powerful. As if this orgasm is going to ruin me forever.

With one final thrust of his tongue, Tovan sends me over. My convulsions grip his tongue, my body shuddering as I cry out his name again. The orgasm is powerful, waves of pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Yes, I’ve had sex before. Yes, I’ve orgasmed. But never, never like this.

“You taste like the sweetest nectar,” Tovan rumbles, but I can’t see him. Either my eyes are closed or I’ve gone blind. All I can hear is the wind raging outside. All I can feel is the warmth still rushing through my core, weakening every fiber in my body as my whole frame jerks with the aftershocks. “I will never tire of this feast.”

I’m still trembling, when I’m finally able to open my eyes again. Tovan is still bent over me, his lips glistening with evidence of what just happened. He slides his tongue out to take another lick of me and I groan, sensitive.

When his gaze finally meets mine, another shudder goes through me.

That focus of his doesn’t waver as he licks his lips clean, his golden eyes sweeping over me in another slow, reverent appraisal. His chest swells with every heavy breath—he looks like he’s holding himself back, like he could lose control at any second. But still, he makes no move to climb over me, to claim what I’m now almost desperate to offer.

My breaths come shallow, each exhalation filling the space between us, but when a long pause stretches between us, I blink in confusion. What is he waiting for? I thought he would—

It hits me like a wave. He’s waiting for me.

He’s not assuming. He’s not taking. He’s waiting. For permission. For affirmation. For me . And there’s something sweet in it—a sweetness that only makes the hard ache between my thighs pulse all the stronger.

“Tovan,” I whisper, voice still breathless from my release. I push myself up slightly, my weight supported on my elbows as I meet his intense gaze. He shifts ever so slightly, withdrawing just a fraction, as though to allow me space, like he’s giving me room to change my mind.

But I’m not changing my mind.

For the first time since I met him, I think I’m thinking clearly.

“Come here,” I say, and it comes out like a plea. My fingers beckon for him, and for a split second, his entire body freezes. Then something ripples through him—some deep, primal emotion, raw and uncontainable. His claw, which had been resting on my thigh, tightens slightly before he pulls away just enough to stand. He’s staring at me with something between reverence and disbelief as if he can’t quite make sense of my words.

“You… want me?” he asks, his voice low, filled with uncertainty. Surprise.

My heart thuds against my ribs. He’s braced himself for rejection all this time? Shit. Perhaps he even expects it.

I don’t know whether it’s the battles of my past. I don’t know if that’s why his actions are making me melt inside. But for the first time in a long while, I don’t fight it anymore.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you.”

Tovan’s pupils narrow, his breathing becoming more jagged as my words sink in. With a grunt that sounds almost pained, he starts to undress, his large hands working quickly at the clasp of his trousers. My entire body hums with anticipation, and I can only watch. God, I’ve already seen how strong he is, how powerful his body is, but as he reveals more and more of himself, I’m struck by the sheer masculine beauty of him. Every line, every muscle—it’s like he’s been carved from stone, honed by battle and time.

And then my eyes are drawn down, down, to where his length juts out, hard and proud.

Painfully aroused, Tovan’s inhuman cock juts proudly from between his thighs, so much larger and stranger than anything a human male could boast. Ridged and curved, the dark purple shaft pulses with every beat of his heart.

His skin is smooth there, like mine. No scales except for a splatter at the base. Small frilly protrusions decorate the upper part of his shaft alternating between raised bumps that form a line straight to his tip.

He’s already slick with arousal, the evidence of his desire for me clear and evident. I swallow hard, my body throbbing with a need so intense it’s overwhelming. I push myself up further, my gaze never leaving him as he climbs onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s afraid he might startle me.

But I’m not startled. I’m entranced. I’m eager. I reach out, my fingers grazing his cheek, his jaw, tracing the line of his neck down to his shoulder. His scales are warm, almost feverish, and I can feel the tremor that runs through him at my touch.

Tovan leans into my hand. “Lira’an,” he rasps, “Are you sure?”

In response, I lie back, pulling him with me. His body covers mine, his weight a delicious pressure that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I can feel him, hard and hot, against my thigh, but he makes no move to rush, to claim. Instead, he presses his lips to mine. Still unsure of what to do, he rests them against mine before he kisses me, slow and deep.

I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, urging him on. I can feel his length, slick and hot, pressing against my entrance, but still, he waits. His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing gently against my cheekbone.

“Tovan,” I whisper against his lips, “Please.”

With a groan, he shifts his hips, the head of his length pressing against my entrance. He’s slow, so slow, as if he’s savoring every second, every inch. I gasp as he pushes into me. Just an inch and yet it feels like he’s already filling me, stretching me, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

He pauses, his body trembling with restraint, as he gazes down at me. “Is this…am I hurting you?”

“Not enough.”

He pauses, a strange look coming over his face as he reaches up and taps his ear. I think it’s because he hasn’t heard me, so I shake my head instead, my hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders. “You feel,” I whisper, “...incredible.”

A shudder runs through him at my words, and he starts to move, his thrusts short and slow. He’s watching me, studying my reactions, adjusting his movements to draw out every gasp, every moan. It’s as if he’s learning me, memorizing me, with every stroke. “You’re so perfect. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, but he’s making me ache. Making me ache for something I’d convinced myself I couldn’t have.

I arch into him, my body meeting his, urging him deeper and Tovan stiffens, a strange look going across his face before he bares his fangs and growls deep in his throat.

“Lira’an,” he warns. Funny. I’ve never felt such power before. Not like this.

“I won’t break.”

A moan slips from my lips as I tighten my legs and force him deeper.

Tovan jerks, still trying to stiffen against my movements before I feel him shudder. Battle lost, he presses into me with another deep growl.

“Yes,” I pant, as his pace quickens, his breath coming in ragged gasps that match my own. The room fills with the sound of our bodies coming together, the wet slide of his length inside me, the harsh symphony of our breathing.

As his claw slides down to grip my hip, Tovan utters a rumbling moan. His claws press into my flesh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave marks and when his lips find mine again, his kiss is hungry, desperate. His tongue moves in time with his thrusts, and I’m drowning in sensation, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

My body tightens around him, clenching as I feel another orgasm building, and Tovan groans, his body shaking with the effort to hold back. “Lira’an,” he rasps, “I…I cannot…much longer…”

That’s when I feel the swelling at the base of his cock. He’s all the way inside me apart from that bulge, that swollen hardness that he’s grinding against me. I shift my hips, lost in sensation, and meet his thrust, forcing the bulge just past that barrier of my swollen flesh.

Oh…fuck.

My eyelids flutter as my body quivers. The stretch. It’s almost too much.

“Lira’an.” Tovan’s voice is strained as he shifts, pulling back. But I don’t want him to. This is the most I’ve felt in years and I don’t want to let go. Not just yet.

As my orgasm crashes through me, I clench hard, stopping him from pulling back and Tovan groans, a deep, guttural sound that resonates through his entire body. His claws tighten on my hips as he pushes that swollen bulge deeper inside me.

My eyes widen as the stretch becomes even more profound. It’s as if every nerve ending in my body is concentrated on that single point. A mix of intense pleasure and a stretch that borders on pain. A pain that only heightens my ecstasy.

I can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein, as that bulge swells further, locking us together. My whole body shudders, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, as my lungs burn, each breath harsh and ragged. Tovan groans too, his breath hot on my forehead as his body trembles with the effort to hold back, but there’s no holding back now.

The room spins as some sensation rips through me. Not an orgasm, no. Something sweeter. Something more filling. More intense. I cry out, my nails digging into Tovan’s back, holding on to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring me to this world. The sensation of that bulge, fully engorged and locked inside me, is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s all-consuming, a connection so deep and primal that it defies words.

And then his body convulses, his release pulsing into me, filling me with a warmth that spreads through my entire being. He growls my name, his voice hoarse with passion and desperation. We’re locked together, riding out the storm of our shared pleasure, matching the intensity of the storm outside. Out there it’s cold. Frigid. But in here our bodies are slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the air between us. Heated. Intense.

We cling to each other, our bodies shuddering, our hearts pounding in sync. The world around us fades away, leaving only this moment, this feeling.

Leaving only him.