Episode Nineteen I Dreamed of You

L ylah

How can I have reached this age and never experienced this level of bliss? There's such exquisite perfection in this moment. The trickling rush of the stream, the feel of his fur beneath my fingertips, the shivery tickle of his mane and whiskers when they brush my face. But most of all, this kiss.

The gentle graze of his lips on mine, the tender touch of his palms on my back, and the way he's holding back, letting me set the pace. Women were rarely allowed out in the yard. It was even more rare to be out when what the men called Monsters were there. He had to know, though, how horribly we were treated. It's so sweet he's letting me determine the tempo of our explorations.

"Even though I was starving and so weak I could no longer stand, I looked forward to seeing your midnight trips through the compound. I loved looking at you, Lylah."

His kisses are firmer now, questing as his burred tongue slides along the seam of my lips, giving me a taste of what's to come. I shiver at that touch. Loving that it's not human, that I'll never get lost in my head and, even for a moment, forget that he's my dear Haz and not the hateful Joseph.

"I dreamed of you, Lylah. I even dared dream of this ," he rasps.

He doesn't plunder, doesn't take. No. He coaxes with swift little licks and soft nips. I love the play of his rough, proudborn tongue on my soft, human one. It's the easiest thing in the world to melt into his embrace.

It was me who initiated this. I'm the one who rolled onto his muscular body. I'm straddling him. There's nothing subtle about this position. With my knees on the soft fur, I'm crouched on him so the seam between my legs rides his hard ridge.

It's delicious as hot sparks tide through my body, racing through me and ramping up my desire. Though many men have used me before, I never hungered for their touch as I do with Haz.

Once and for all, I kick all of those males out of my head. They have no place here in nature's beauty where the forest meets the stream. That is all history. I have Hazlan now. Even better than that? He's my mate.

Fully in the moment, I press my palms to his face as I open my eyes and take him in. Handsome male. His golden eyes have trouble focusing on me, as if he's drugged. I nip his bottom lip, then suck it into my mouth. I like having such a heady effect on him.

"Off," he breathes as he rolls us so I'm underneath him. "Clothes… off."

His order, rather than instilling fear, makes me smile. When he locks his elbows to give me more room, I quickly comply, thrilled he's almost speechless from desire. I pull my tunic off, but when my hands go to my waist, he shakes his head.

"Let me." His tongue was thick, but he managed to say both words in a row.

It's me who's speechless now as he tugs my leather pants down, then sits back, his golden, furred ass on his heels as he takes me in.

We were both naked on the cold, hard ground in that cage. He saw me, but never like this. Never healthy, my skin unmarred by bruises in various stages of healing, never on fire with desire for him.

"So fucking beautiful." His voice is gravelly.

"So fucking handsome," I say with a smile and an eyebrow flash.

Because everything until now was slow and deliberate, the swiftness of his next move surprises me as he cups my breasts, dips his head, and attacks my nipple with that rough tongue of his.

He unsheathes his claws on my flanks. Ten tiny pinpricks command my attention as his tongue traces thick swathes up the swell of my breast and across my tender tips.

I no longer smell the fallen leaves or the loam. I smell myself. I'm desperate for him. I need him inside me.

Instead, he nudges a knee at the apex of my thighs. Although it's not the answer to my prayers, it's something. I ride his knee as his lips and tongue propel my arousal higher. One hand is plucking, tugging, gently twisting one nipple while his mouth assaults and sucks the other. When he nips the tips with his flat front teeth, I moan in pleasure.

I'm naked, grinding against him, trying to slake my lust. The more I move against him, the more desperately I want him to fill me.

How can I be so on fire for him, so ready, when he's still fully clothed?

"Not fair," I complain. "Get naked."

He pulls back, dips lower to glide his silken mane back and forth across my breasts, and then leans back far enough to yank off his top. In one smooth move, he stands, slides off his pants, and is about to return to the magical place between my open legs when I stop him.

"Let me look at you, mate ."

We've been mated such a short time, and most of that we've been unconscious, but I know he will never deny me when I use that word. That amount of power is heady.

He stands, and for a moment I'm certain he's thinking about his wings. I know the remedy to this as I tell him, "Stand tall for me, proudborn."

Ah yes, that last word does the trick. It's as if he turns into someone else. He's no longer an abused slave. He's a noble proudborn who was bred to be the most beautiful creature on Earth.

He doesn't just stand there. He walks away. No. It's not walking. My mate is strutting, showing off for me. His ass, golden fur covering flexing muscles, is more beautiful than the stream and trees and blue sky. His tail is no longer dragging on the ground, it's lifted high in exuberance.

But when he turns around, I change my mind completely. His back and ass aren't the most intriguing things I've ever seen. It's his front, rippling abdominals, perfect masculine face, and jutting cock, that take my breath away.

"I reserve the right to see more later. Right now, proudborn, come make love with me."