Raglan chuckles, although I cannot imagine what is funny about any of this.
“Well then,” Raglan says decisively. “Let us fully rouse the beast that we might progress through the many stages all the swifter.” I twist to glare up at the madman. He offers a roguish smirk before fisting my hair and planting his lips upon mine.
I am shocked.
But I’m also wildly aroused and forget all about the conflict that is bearing down upon us.
When he lifts his head, I’ve forgotten where I am.
Then it all comes crashing back. We are close now, close enough to feel the full force of Hawthorn’s scowl and see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Fury does not adequately describe his expression. It is unholy, simmering blind rage. He is a wild feral beast. “Goddess help me,” I whisper.
“Ballsy,” Brook says with a note of begrudging respect.
“I did not want him to be confused about my claim,” Raglan says.
Caden chuckles. “No fear of that now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Priya
THE LAST FEW moments of arrival seem to last an hour. We are moved from the deck as the crew prepares for the landing. It is painful waiting for the ship to bump against the dock, and after, there is much impatience as they tie everything off. I’m anxious, and I’m fit to burst into tears. Raglan, having thrown his challenge to Hawthorn, allows me to take comfort between Caden and Brook. They purr for me, but it doesn’t help much.
The planks are then thrown down, and I’m walking, although I don’t see a thing. Brook and Caden are at my side, but as I near Hawthorn, they stand back. A pace is all that separates us when I come to a stop. Crowds of people pass as the crew and shifter pack depart, but I’m blind to everything except my long absent mate. I see him nod to both Caden and Brook before his eyes shift further into the distance, and I know Raglan is also there.
I take that last step in a rush, throwing my arms around his neck as he lifts and pulls me in so close and so tight, I can barely breathe, and still, it’s not close enough. “Purr for me,” I beg, clinging like a little monkey. And he does, and now everything is perfect and right. I press my nose into the crook of his neck, eyes closed to the rushing world around us.
Here, in Hawthorn’s arms, I am finally safe.
“I need to get you back to our quarters,” he says gruffly, already walking. A horse waits beside a resplendent guard with a white plume in his helm. Hawthorn tries to deposit me on a steed, but I’m clinging tightly, and it turns into a small battle. He wins; I fret the whole second it takes him to mount behind me.
The horse dances as he turns it around, and I throw a swift look backward to where Raglan now stands beside Caden and Brook. It heartens me that Brook is grinning, but then I remember the prior discussion about Hawthorn needing to rut me and beat Raglan multiple times, and I’ve no idea what to feel.
“What about the others?” I ask.
Hawthorn growls. “Do not fucking mention them to me, lass. They will catch up in due course. But if you don’t allow me to take you somewhere that I might rut you in private, you will find yourself laid out on the dock and rutted here.”
“I don’t care where you rut me,” I say honestly. “Just as long as you do.”
With his arms wrapped around me, we ride for the prestigious estate. There is another fuss while he dismounts, and I wait for him to lift me into his arms. After, he strides into a grand home, passing a bowing servant who waits attentively at the door. I see very little . . . except a glimpse of a curious oil painting depicting a farmer herding . . . pigs?
“Was that a p—uff!”
I am dropped onto the mattress of a decadently huge four-poster bed as the door slams shut with a rattle and thud.
“What the fuck kind of clothing is this?” Hawthorn growls, ripping pants down my legs and dislodging one shoe. I giggle at his enthusiasm, try to help, and get in the way. The other leg of my pants gets stuck at my foot. With another growl, he fumbles at his belt.
I groan as I feel the fat head of his cock slip the length of my slick folds before snagging my entrance.
He thrusts. “Goddess!” I feel too tight around him and realize it’s his half-formed knot. I hiss at his roughness as he pulls out and drives deep again. By the third thrust, the knot has fully formed, and he comes with a roar.
Hot jets bathe the entrance of my womb, gushing and pulsing around the edges of his thick knot. Sweet nerves bloom to life. My pussy floats on the edge of bliss, but for once, I don’t care that I have not yet come. The sensation of him being inside me, and his knot holding his body flush to mine, is everything I need. His lips seek and find the claiming mark. Teeth sink, and his growl of triumph brings a full-body shiver that takes me over the carnal cliff.
With my head thrown back, wild sounds pour from my lips. My pussy flutters over and over as he rocks his hips, and all the while savaging my throat. The pain excites me like he is claiming me as his again. I weep with joy; it trickles down the side of my face and merges into my hairline. Cupping his head to me, I pet his silken hair that he might bite harder and deeper.
Close.
We are so close, and I never want us to part
