Rhys dragged his eyes away from her face and down, down, down. She braced herself for the reaction she knew was coming.
He flinched back when his eyes fell on her scar. A growl rattled in his chest, savage and protective all at once. “He did this?”
Sage nodded. Knowing about it was different than seeing. She pressed her lips together and turned her face away. “He never let me out of the collar to heal.”
“Fuck him,” Rhys muttered, dipping his head again.
Sage’s lungs froze when she felt the tip of his tongue dragging along her skin. Her breath burst out of her at the agile swoop around the lower curve dipping down her breast, and the race up the straightaway to her collarbone. Rhys growled again, the sound more lustful than murderous, as he traced the top line over her shoulder and to the crook of her neck.
His beard scratched at her skin as he nibbled his way to her ear. “It’s mine, now,” he told her. “Anytime you touch it, you’ll remember me kissing you there. You don’t belong to him, Sage. You’re mine.”
She swore—absolutely swore—her panties tried to rip themselves away from her body.
He retraced his steps, sealing his words with a small peck at the tail end of the scar, then turned his attention to the rest of her body. Slow licks crawled along the edges of her bra, then his fingers dipped under the cups to draw them down. He thumbed one nipple, then the other, teasing her with close passes of his mouth.
When he had her panting and arching her back for more, he reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. It joined her shirt somewhere on the floor, but she was far more concerned with the man grazing her sensitive flesh with his teeth.
Rhys smoothed his palms down her sides, then dipped his head and followed the same path with his mouth. She sucked in a breath the moment his fingers found the button of her jeans, but nodded when he rolled questioning eyes to her face.
He was hers. Her true, fated mate. There was no sense in being afraid of a man like Rhys. He thrived off her pleasure, not her pain.
He hooked his thumbs into the sides of her jeans, and dragged them and her panties down in one smooth swoop.
“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes sliding shut. “You smell good.”
“Do you want to taste?”
The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even think them into existence. She didn’t know what magic he worked on her, but he’d done the same when he watched her pleasure herself. He made her feel confident and daring enough to bring her thoughts to life.
His lids snapped open and silver swirled in his eyes. He chuckled, the sound thick and delicious, as he bent lower. “Taste you, you mean?” He kissed halfway between her belly button and her clit. “Is that what you want me to do?”
Sage swallowed hard as he dragged the tip of his tongue lower. His beard scratched at her skin again, the roughness pairing well with the fevered heat that engulfed her entire body.
His hands closed around her thighs and he yanked her closer. The teasing light in his eyes died with a low, vibrating growl.
Sage groaned as he buried his face between her legs.
Nothing should feel that good. Not food or drinks or silk sheets rubbing against her skin. Definitely not his hot, wet tongue. She tightened her hands in his hair, intending to push him away to keep some level of sanity and expectations of a normal sex life, but somehow found herself pulling him closer.
She rode his tongue, then the fingers he slipped into her. Pleasure spiked and spiraled, twitching her thighs seemingly in rhythm with her heartbeat. She gasped and groaned as he edged her closer, then backed off to tease her more, until finally, finally he sucked her clit between his lips and didn’t let up.
Sage nearly jackknifed off the bed as her release barreled down on her. She shattered around his fingers, then melted back down under the tender licks and growls of her very pleased mate.
Rhys caught her eyes as he pulled away, then stuck his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean.
“I want you, Sage,” he said. Standing, his hands went to his jeans. “I want you so bad it hurts. I want your taste on my tongue, I want your scent on my skin, your screams in my ears. I want to feel you tightening around my cock as you come.” He popped the button and pulled down his zipper, then took his thick cock in his hand. “Let me hear you tell me that’s what you want, too.”
Holy hell. Holy, holy hell.
Her eyes widened as he took a step back toward the bed, jeans falling to his ankles. He stroked his shaft from root to tip and back again, silver eyes locked on her face.
“Tell me, Sage,” he growled, one knee going to the bed.
She caught her lip between her teeth, then let her knees butterfly open. “Yes,” she whimpered. “I want that. I want you.”
* * *
Rhys breathed her in. Juniper, rain, and moonlight. Baked earth and fur. She was absolutely delicious.
And his.
Not completely. Not until his fangs marked her skin and he wore her claim on his, but that future was more than a dream. More than a possibility. She actively planned to make it a reality.
He didn’t deserve her.
He couldn’t give her up.
Rhys slowly crawled up her body. Her scent called to him and he almost sank between her legs for another taste. Almost. As much as he wanted to swallow down more of her, he had other needs.
He notched the tip of his cock against her slick entrance. The heat of her body already made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He pushed a single inch into her, then backed off slowly, eyes
