The Falcon Prince

In and out.

Filling her.

She closed her eyes, lost in the sensations spinning through her. He took her higher and higher until she felt as though she soared across the sky, and there was no fear. The world around her exploded into a million pieces of light.

She grabbed his shoulders. Her body quivered. She cried out, gasping for air.

He tightened, muscles straining as he came, growling from the force of his orgasm. Then he was falling into her, rolling them onto their sides, pulling her close.

Tears filled her eyes. She’d never felt such a connection. Never felt this much emotion flooding through her. Never felt this damned satisfied.

“What just happened?” she finally asked when she could catch a decent breath. “Is it always like this?”

He shook his head.

She leaned back, looking into his face. “Did you feel it, too?”

He nodded, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of the shampoo she’d used.

He didn’t speak. Now he was worrying her. “What?”

“I think I have found my lifemate.”

Her forehead creased. “Who?”

He moved just enough so he could look at her. “You.”

Before she could question him more about this lifemate stuff, he doubled over, groaning.

Ohmygod, she’d killed him. Maybe Symtarians weren’t supposed to mate with people from Earth or something.

She quickly sat up. “Kristor, are you okay?”

A fog began to roll in. She looked around. What the hell was happening? She jumped out of bed, and bumped her knee on the chair. She grabbed the robe that was across the arm, and thrust her arms inside.

The fog was so thick that she couldn’t see. “Kristor?” She needed to find the phone and call for an ambulance or something. Oh, Lord, what would she tell them? She might have killed a man during sex?

She could feel the blood drain from her face. What if she had killed him? What if she never had sex like that again? She mentally shook her head to clear it. No, that was selfish thinking. She should be more worried about him.

The fog began to slowly fade away. She caught a glimpse of a black-tipped wing. Ria took a step back. The fog cleared.

There was a hawk on her bed.

His animal guide, Shintara said. Yum. Even better than the man. Look at that wingspan.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. Now what was she supposed to do? Better yet, it was late, and she was tired. Where the hell was she going to sleep? The sofa was too uncomfortable. She’d once fallen asleep there watching a tear-jerker movie and awoke with a crick in her neck. It had been very painful.

She stared at the hawk before making a decision. “Don’t hog the covers,” she finally said and lay down on her side of the bed, tucking the cover under her chin. She only hoped hawks didn’t snore. Hell, she was so tired, she didn’t really care at this point. It would’ve been much nicer snuggling, though.

Her sleep was fitful at best.

The next morning, Ria rolled over, stretched, and opened her eyes. Kristor watched her. His lips curled upward. Warm tingles spread over her body.

“Morning,” he said.

“You’re back.”

“It would seem so.”

She hadn’t dreamt last night. It had all happened. The lovemaking, his changing into a hawk. But right before he’d changed, Kristor had mentioned something about her being his lifemate. There was a sound of permanency to it. She wasn’t so sure she was ready for that, no matter how good the sex.

“What exactly does ‘lifemate’ mean?” she asked.

“Lifemate. It means we are meant to be together.”

Dread filled her. “For now, you mean. I mean, nothing long-term. Right?” Although, she didn’t care for the idea of his moving on to greener pastures for at least a few weeks.

He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Forever. Once a Symtarian finds his lifemate, then they are together forever.”

“But we only had sex.”

“Sometimes a male Symtarian knows the very first time.”

“I barely know you.” That sounded really slutty since they’d had mindblowing sex last night. “I mean, maybe I don’t feel the same way.”

“You will be very frustrated when you can’t reach the same heights as we climbed last night. The only way to experience this kind of fulfillment is with your lifemate.”

She scooted away from him and off the bed, pulling the robe she’d put on last night closer to her. She’d known deep down inside that nothing good would come from their making love, but had she listened? Noooo…

She took a deep breath and looked at him. Big mistake. My God, he looked delicious lying on her bed completely exposed. She dragged her gaze away.

“I’m going to put some coffee on,” she said before hurrying from the room. It was too much to take in all at once. She stumbled, slapping her hand on the wall for support when it hit her again. She was part alien. Her ancestors were full-blood aliens.

But she didn’t want to be an alien.

Kristor swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt more alive than he’d felt in a long time.

And what will happen if you can’t convince her to leave with you? Labrinon asked.

I will.

But if you don’t. Symtarians have been known to go crazy if they can’t be with their lifemate. I don’t particularly like the idea that one of us would be a drooling idiot.

She will leave with me.

The truth was, Kristor didn’t want to think of what might happen if Rianna didn’t leave with him. Yes, he had heard all the stories of Symtarians losing their minds.

But he would convince her. He had no choice.

Or you could throw her over your shoulder, Labrinon reminded Kristor.

Yes, there is always that.

He stood, went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Not as refreshing as standing under a waterfall, but definitely warmer.

You’re getting soft.

He almost told Labrinon to be silent, but it never seemed to do any good. He spoke what he wanted, and had the right to do so. His guide had been true and faithful. Labrinon had saved his life more than once by telling Kristor when the enemy drew close. A hawk had superior visual acuity. No, Kristor wouldn’t tell Labrinon to be silent.

This time.

He stepped from the shower, dried off, then knotted a towel around his waist. When he came out of the smaller room, his clothes had been laid neatly across the bed. He walked past them and went to the kitchen. Rianna was drinking coffee at the table.

It must be an Earth custom because the people who’d raised her did the same thing each morning. Kristor had tried the drink, but didn’t find it to his liking.

“Do you have orange juice?” he asked.

She jumped, looked up, then choked. “I laid your clothes on the bed,” she said.

“I prefer fewer clothes in the morning.” At home, he rarely wore clothes. It gave him more freedom.