CHAPTER TWENTY（Untitled）Wranth

CHAPTER TWENTY

Wranth

The second my bride runs from me, the primal side I constantly fight to suppress breaks free.

Run. Hunt. Claim .

My lips pull back from my tusks, and Naomi’s scent fills my flared nostrils as I suck in a huge breath.

Mine.

She is mine .

I rip off the rest of my clothes as she disappears into the trees, stripping myself to the skin until I am my purest self. A Wild Fae, born of the forest and magic, made to track.

Made to chase.

A feral glee fills me as I follow.

How did she know this is what I’ve always wanted? To chase down my woman, to claim her wherever we land?

Naomi knows because she is my bride, the one fated to be my perfect match. The Moon Goddess sees all. It is no mistake she joined us.

I do not need my tracking magic to find my moon bound. The feeling in my chest tugs me toward her.

Plus, I can hear her. The soft thumps of her little feet. The tiny gasps of breath. The brush of her limbs against branches.

A growl rumbles through my chest at the thought of those trees getting to touch her bare skin. I remember it under my hands, so warm and soft, how lovely she looked bared to me.

My cock swells even harder, the engorged weight of it bouncing with each step, the slight discomfort helping me rein in my pace. As much as I crave Naomi, I do not want this to end too quickly.

I circle outward from her path, letting her hear me, guiding my bride back toward the waterfall. After leaping over a clump of ferns, I duck a branch and slip around a rhododendron. I am one with the forest, sliding silently between the trees until I see my bride.

Fuck.

The sight of her running from me makes me growl and leap forward. My heart pounds out its double beat, the thumps saying, take her, take her, take her. A primal possessiveness such as I’ve never known overwhelms what slender threads of reason I have left.

I tackle her to the ground, taking the worst of the blow on an outstretched arm.

Naomi is softness and heat and female, and her glorious curves press against me, making my pulse thunder. The scent of her arousal makes my cock jump, and my hips snap forward.

But it’s not her skin I feel—it’s that damnable pink fabric.

Another growl. I lift off her just enough to rip it from her. Then I tear the straps from her upper body as well. There will be nothing between us. I push her hair from her shoulder and bite, not hard enough to break the skin but firmly enough to hold her in place as my hands roam over the soft beauty of her.

“Wranth!” Her husky voice becomes a breathy moan that makes me want to bite harder.

My tongue snakes out, tasting the salt and sweet of her skin. Fuck. I need more. I must taste the truest essence of her.

The thought makes my erection jump, and it smacks against her ass, the impact making the piercings on the underside sing with sensation. I grind against her, the desire to bury my cock inside her overwhelming.

But I will not be denied my taste.

It takes the last vestiges of my control to make my jaw unlock. Then I glide down her back, licking as I go. Every scrape of my tusks makes her quiver, so I do it again and again until I reach her glorious ass. My hands find her hips, deliciously plump and wide, and I lift her onto her knees. Then I spread them until she opens for me.

Her folds already glisten with wetness, the rich scent of her wrapping around me in an intoxicating spell. If ever I needed extra proof of how much she enjoyed our chase, it’s written here on her body.

I almost lost this today, almost lost her. The threat of the sluagh attacking her… No. The thought is more than I can bear. It only makes me want her more.

A growl rips through me, and I nip at her buttock, loving her plump firmness. My bride is so strong, so alive, so beautiful. She is meant to be celebrated.

She is meant to be worshipped.

I lick up her inner thigh, Naomi’s skin a silky satin so soft I fear I will never get enough.

She quivers and gasps, so I run my tongue over her other thigh, scraping with my tusks until she moans. Then I find the very core of her, her taste bursting on my tongue, all salt and honey.

I lap at her folds, exploring, finding the hard pearl at the top of her sex that makes her cry out, her voice husky with need. My tongue plunges inside of her, stroking into her velvety heat. Fuck, she’s going to feel exquisite wrapped around my cock.

Over and over, I find a rhythm she likes, pausing between each thrust to flick her sensitive nub.

“Oh, god. Oh, god. Wranth !”

My cock leaps to hear her like this, pleading for me. Orc seed pours from the tip, smearing my stomach with wetness. I scoop up a handful and drag it over her buttock, her hip.

My tongue covers her sensitive nub, moving over it in a fast flutter.

My bride shouts, her whole body shaking as she finds her first release.

I plunge my tongue into her, lapping up all of her juices. The squeeze of her muscles feels divine, and I groan at how tight they’ll be around my cock.

When she’s no longer sobbing with the peak of delight, I coat my hand again and replace my mouth with my fingers, pushing my fluids into her. The aphrodisiacs in it will prepare her to take the size of my cock and add to her pleasure.

Her hips move, undulating, and my bride presses back toward me, her body begging even more than her words. And her words… goddess, her words are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

“Please, Wranth. I need you.”

The scent of her arousal mixes with that of my orc seed, sending primal possessiveness racing through me. With a growl, I fist my erection, stroking out another handful of thick fluid, and slather it over her glorious buttocks, needing to make her smell even more like me.

“Wranth, please!”

Holding her in place with one hand gripping her hip, I use the other to drag the head of my cock up and down her slick folds. Orc seed adds to her wetness, making everything deliciously slippery.

I stop at her entrance, the tight ring of muscle teasing the head of my erection with promised heat.

My stud activates, magic shimmering across its surface as the large ball of metal mounted over my cock reacts to my moon bound. What shape will it form? What does my bride want most?

A long, thick tentacle extends, the end forming a little mouth that snakes down around my erection to reach her most sensitive spot.

A groan tears from me as her entrance flutters around me and she gasps. I can wait no longer, the primal need to claim her stripping me of the last vestiges of patience.

I plunge forward, lost in the sensation of the delicious wet heat of my bride.