Chapter 16

The fire warms my naked back, even though it's burnt down to embers. Every inch of me is satisfied. Ras was… incredible. My body is near limp with pleasure, and I'm awed at him. At how he put me first, made me come, over and over and over again. On how he figured out what I liked, listened to what I wanted, and dragged the strongest orgasms I've ever felt in my life out of me.

His cock jerks in my hand. I run the tips of my fingernails against it, and he's so hard that I wonder if it hurts. I want him to feel good. I want to make him feel like I feel.

I like him. A lot. I especially like what he did with his tongue. Whether or not it's the mating bond, I can't really find it in myself to care. If oral sex with him is that good, what will the real thing be like?

His cock is big, which, thanks to the constant nudity, I am very well aware of, and have been since the first time I saw him. My entire body clenches, a shiver of excitement running through me.

I should be done wanting orgasms. I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life, and yet, I still ache, deep inside. I pump my hand around him, and he groans, pulling me closer to him. His wet hair slides across his back, and he cups my cheek, pulling in me in for a kiss.

His lips are gentle against mine, searching. It melts my heart, the way he touches me. The way he lets me lead in this, how he's let me lead in near everything. Even now, with my hand around his cock, his body shuddering with barely contained need, he lets me lead.

It's exactly what I need.

I lick the inside of his mouth, capturing his groan with mine. His chest rumbles against my already overly sensitive breasts, and then I'm the one moaning.

"So greedy, my mate." He rubs his cheek against mine, cat-like. "I can scent your arousal again. Do you already hunger for my mouth on you again?"

It should freak me out, that he can smell the fact that I'm turned on. But it doesn't, not at it all. Instead, it turns me on even more, and I grind my hip against him, dragging my hand up and down his cock. His mouth is hot against my skin, and a new wave of lust washes over me, threatening to drag me down. All the reasons I made myself swear to not have sex with him for seem to slip away the longer I touch him, the longer he touches me.

His fingers trace down my side, and I shiver, watching his face as I stroke his cock. Precum wets on the tip. I smooth it over the head, fascinated by the effect I have on him. Ras growls, burying his face against my shoulder.

I love this. I love the feeling of power I have over him. I own his pleasure, guide it with every stroke up and down his shaft. It's heady and new and completely intoxicating.

I want him to come undone under my hands. Glancing down, I bite my lip, watching as I stroke him, loving the hitch in his breath as I move. When I pull away, his eyes open, heavy-lidded and so damn sexy. My tongue darts out, and he tracks the motion.

Before I have time to think better of it, to talk myself out of it, I'm on my hands and knees. My nails scrape against his lower back, then I drag them lower, clasping him to me and licking the liquid beading on his cock.

"Lana," he rasps, and I can't help looking up at him as I take him deep in my mouth, as deep as I can, at least. I want to make it good for him, like he did for me. The guttural noise he makes encourages me, and work my mouth over the length of him, sucking and swirling my tongue over his skin.

His hands tangle in my hair, and I know he's close to losing control as I rock my head back and forth, working him, adding my hand back to the base of his thick cock. But he doesn't let go of that razor thin control, he doesn't force himself any deeper in my mouth. He's utterly careful, even in this, and I fucking love it. One hand twitches in my hair.

"Lana, stop."

I pull back, surprised. "What? Why?"

His hands tighten around my head, and he pulls me back up for a long kiss that melts me.

And then his hand delves into my pussy, and he drags a big finger across my still-sensitive clit. I gasp, another orgasm already building, and my hand still on his cock.

"Lana, I want…" but he doesn't finish, just wraps his other hand around mine and uses it to keep pumping on his dick. It wasn't enough. I'm craving him now, wanting to know what it will feel like to take him deep inside—to be the reason he loses control completely.

It cracks something open within me. Lust roars through my body, a deafening rush. If this is the mating bond, then I want it. I need it. I need Ras. I'm panting now, my chest heaving, my thighs glistening with wetness. The damp flood must be enough that Ras can feel it, too, because he growls.

The look on his face is pure desire. "Lana," he says again, and it's a whisper, an entreaty.

"I want it." My teeth are clenched, the need to take him inside of me undeniable. Overpowering. "I want to do it."

He bites my neck. Not hard enough to break skin, but it's primal and animalistic. I shudder in anticipation, my legs trembling. Ras flips me to my back in one smooth, shocking motion, and his clever fingers find my clit again. When he slips one inside me, then two, I claw at his shoulders, crying out his name. I'm so close again, hovering on the edge of release, my body clenching around his hand, needing more.

"You're so wet, so wet for me." His big body hovers over mine, the words whispered in my ear. I tug at his cock, still in my hands, desperate for it. I writhe against him, until the tip of it rubs against my clit.

We both stop, gasping at the sensation. Then his cock is at the entrance, and he pins me with the force of his gaze, and then with a hand at my hips. My body arches to meet him, and he sinks in slowly. Inch by inch, until I'm struggling against his grip, needing to move against him.

"Lana," he breathes, and sweat beads on his forehead.

It's not enough, and I rock into him, clawing at his back. Frenzied.

"I need it. I need it," I tug at his hair, pulling him into a savage kiss. He growls, and then he's pumping into me, filling me up.

"Yes, Ras, that's it, please, I'm so close."

He moves faster, harder. Then he reaches between our bodies and flicks my clit, his teeth grazing the side of neck, and I'm tumbling, tumbling over the edge and into sheer ecstasy.

I press into him, and he's pulling my legs onto his shoulders, driving into me with a need that has pleasure ratcheting up inside me again.

"Lana," he roars, thrusting deep into me. His whole body shakes as he comes, and stars seem to explode in front of my eyes as I follow him into another orgasm.

We stay like that, tangled into each other, slicked with sweat and pleasure. A few minutes slide by as I catch my breath, and it takes that long to realize the starlight I thought was an orgasmic afterglow is coming from me. It fades, slowly, and I watch it recede, like my skin is soaking it back up.

Ras strokes my back, his caresses languid and sure. I am replete, fully sated, and I press into his warm, muscled body, inhaling him. His beard tickles my nose and I push it away.

It's not so much that I minded it, in fact, the friction was… incredible. I tilt my head, twisting my mouth.

Ras rubs a finger across my forehead, and I grin at the gesture. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He hugs me close, and his beard tickles my nose, making me sneeze.

"You're too cold." I can hear the frown in his voice, and it makes me laugh, until his beard makes me sneeze again.

I sit up abruptly. "I'm not too cold. I feel…" I search for the words. "I feel incredible."

"That is the mating bond." Feral pride is etched on his face, his blue eyes dark, unfathomable.

"Ah," I say, and I squirm a little. Shit. Okay, yes. We did that. I don't regret it, because damn, if that's what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Earth shattering sex? Er, Vraya shattering, I guess.

But still, we did that. We had sex. We mated. We're mated. Oh god. My breath comes in hard spurts, and I blink rapidly as light spills across my face. The electric buzzing sensation against my skin intensifies.

"Look," he says, holding out his forearm. "I wear your sign now, too."

I grab his arm, my mouth falling open in shock. Sure enough, the constellation of Orion glows against his skin, the same silvery blue as the glow between my shoulders.

He presses another kiss to my mouth, grinning through it, and it makes me melt a little. Ras is just so dang sweet. And then I sneeze again, as his beard brushes against my nostril.

"But why do you sneeze? Are you ill?" He sounds frantic, holding my face between his hands.

Maybe it's the post-orgasm glow or the feeling of power bubbling up in me, splashing over my senses, but I laugh again. "It's your beard."

He tugs at it, frowning. "It is much longer than normal."

I am dying to know what he looks like under it. "Can I cut it?"

"My appearance displeases you." Ras frowns.

"No," I say, smoothing my hand over his hard chest. "No, it does not. It pleases me very much."

His hands skate over my shoulders. "Like my mouth and my cock pleased you."

I snort out a laugh. He's just so damned pleased with himself. He's not wrong, though.

"I like your laugh."

I smile at him. It feels so good, the way he touches me, the way he compliments me and looks at me like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. But…

Worry bites through me, and I frown. This is how it always is in the beginning, how it was with Brad, even. All honeymoon and happiness until it's not. Until whatever spark we have dies and is replaced with resentment and anger.

"I'll cut the beard off." Ras announces.

I stare up at him, worried. Worried this is a moment in time that will pass, that we'll both regret. We had sex, and yes, it was freaking unbelievable, flipping amazing… but he won't treat me like this forever. He'll get tired of me, like Brad did, and I'll be trapped all over again.

His lips turn down. "Why are you sad?"

I make myself smile. "I'm not." And it's true, mostly.

"I will cut my hair and you will smile again." He nods to himself, and he's so convinced and set on making me happy, that my stomach does a little flip. Gracefully, feline, even, he stands. It's ridiculous how fast he moves, I mean, he must be over six foot five and stacked, and yet none of that body mass seems to get in his way.

He turns away, and I admire his ass. Satisfaction rolls through me while I watch him walk away. That was all mine. He was moaning my name only a moment ago, and it was all for me. A new burst of pleasure splashes through me, and my heart gives a little squeeze of affection.

Affectionate. That's how I feel.

I swipe a hand over my eyes and slowly stand up, stretching. Over at the rock wall, Ras has pulled out another soap plant, and now sparks fly as he sharpens the knife he uncovered in the cache. Seriously, simply looking at him sends a thrill of possessiveness through me. I want to walk over to him, wrap my hands all over his hard body, and go for round two.

I need to chill the hell out. Instead, I walk to the pool, washing myself off in the lukewarm water. I'm still so sensitive, despite the multiple orgasms he wrung from my body, that I let myself float on the surface, trying to come back to earth. Behind me, the sound of the knife sharpening ceases, and I let the sound of rushing water drift over me instead.

Not Earth. A frisson of anxiety pulses through me as the enormity of what we just did crashes over me. I close my eyes, water lapping across my skin. We had sex. Really good, okay, fantastic sex, but sex all the same.

The anxiety increases, followed by a regret chaser. What have I done? I gave into my sex drive, and if I let my body take the reins, I'd be doing it again. But what does this mean? I don't feel any different, but Ras said I'd have access to my powers.

That I'd be powerful, maybe for the first time in my life.

Cautiously, I think about the stars that glow across my back, the constellations that, despite the multi-moon night sky, are the same here as they are on earth.

Nothing happens. No pulse of power, nothing. I frown. Maybe it takes time.

And honestly, it should be the least of my concerns.

Sure, Ras is kind and super-hot and clever and even surprisingly funny, but I've known him all of… two days. I drag a hand over my face and right myself in the water. Have I jumped straight from one bad relationship to a permanent relationship with someone who is basically a stranger?

No matter how good he made me feel —and damn, did he make me feel good— I don't know exactly what I've gotten myself into.

I swallow hard, swirling the water with my hand.

A soft splash sounds, and when I look back, Ras splashes into the pool. My jaw clenched, and tension racketed up through my body.

"Lana?" His voice was soft, tentative. "What troubles you?"

I blew out a breath, trying to wrestle control of my emotions.

"Did you not enjoy it?" Calloused fingers stroke my shoulder, and I shiver under his touch. Even stressed to hell, trying to puzzle out what that massive step meant, I can't resist him.

I swallow and turn to face him.

Oh. Oh.

He's shaved as well as he can with the knife, his long golden beard shorn to a scruff. His hair is likewise shorter, a few inches on top and shorter on the sides.

Wow.

A slow grin stretches across his face, and I'm glad I'm standing in the water, because it's a heart-stopping one. Under all that beard and hair? He's gorgeous.

I had sex with him. I mentally high-five myself.

And then I remember that means we're mated, and I don't really understand everything that goes with that, and my mouth closes with a click.

"I'm glad you like what you see, my Lana." He steps closer, his smile turned predatory. "You did like it, didn't you?"

"Yes," I squeak out.

His hand drifts lower, idly caressing my bicep. "Why do you wash? Do you not enjoy my seed inside you?"

Oh my god.Why did he have to call it seed? I make a face, my nose wrinkling, and he frowns.

"Lana, talk with me. I can tell you are upset. I can feel it." He motions to his chest, and now I'm really distracted. What can I say? It's a real nice chest.

Wait.

"What do you mean you can feel it?" I narrow my eyes, trying to stay focused, even though, somehow, I am raring to go for a round two of the Ras and Lana sexathon.

He takes my hands in his, and my mouth goes dry. "Try. Reach out."

"You're holding my hands."

He laughs, and it sounds like music. Gently, he extricates his hand and taps the side of my head. "With this." His hand moves lower and I still as he taps my chest, above my heart. "With this."

Then, with a devilish grin, he tweaks my nipple, and a low moan rips out of me. "Not with that."

"Stop that," I manage, annoyed. Mostly with myself, considering how it's taking nearly all my remaining energy not to hop right back on his dick.

"Why? You are perfect." His hands move over my breast, and I swallow the sigh, swatting his hands away. "These are perfect."

"Don't distract me. Explain." I stomp my foot, but it's underwater, so I only manage to make a small ripple on the surface.

He grips my hands again, his smile softer now, his eyes still intense. "Use your mind. Your heart. See if you cannot feel the connection between us. It has opened up for me, it has opened up my memories." He presses a kiss to my head, and it's such a sweet gesture that the little knot of tension in my shoulders eases slightly.

I close my eyes, inhaling, trying to figure out what he's talking about. All I feel is the water, his hands around mine. The cool lick of damp air across my face and neck. The slight throbbing aftershocks of the orgasms.

"Relax. Think of the stars. Remember the sign of the lion."

I listen to his voice, letting it wash over me, and think about the order of stars in the Leo constellation.

Something snaps within me, and I suck in a breath. I can feel him, like an extension of myself. He's content, pleased, and horny. Oh gosh. Why does that not surprise me?

Probably because I also feel like having sex again, consequences be damned.

A low rumble of pleasure ripples through him, a surge of affection.

From him. For me. It's warm and velvety, and altogether overwhelming.

It's too much.

"Relax, Lana Kit," he says, his thumb making wide strokes over my hand. "You will get used to it."

I concentrate on the mental image of Leo again, pushing my awareness towards him. His fingertips are rough against my hand. There's something else there, floating just beyond the happiness and contentment he's projecting at me. Something bitter and sticky and viscous. When I try to tug at it, curious as to what emotion it is, it slides out of my mental grasp.

The connection shuts off, and my eyes flow open. The cave is full of light, the sign on my back glowing softly.

"It's okay, it will get easier with time." His voice is gravelly, rough, and I swallow hard. Maybe it's my imagination, but for a half-second, something flickers across his expression that worries me.

I remember the oil-slick of bitterness, and I gnaw my lip.

He's hiding something.