Something possessive and entirely new curled through her chest at the sight of him like this. Laid out beneath her. The most dangerous creature on this planet, watching her with glowing eyes and making no move to take control.
She planted both hands flat on his chest and rocked her hips.
The slide was obscene—slick with his spend and her own arousal, her swollen flesh dragging along the length of his cock where it lay against his lower belly. The friction hit her clit on the downstroke, a bright jolt of sensation that punched a gasp from her throat and sent a corresponding spike ofwantthrough the bond that she felt echo back from him, doubled.
Sylas’s claws dug into the stone on either side of his hips. His chest expanded beneath her hands, a slow, controlled breath that cost him something.
And then the monsterlaughed.
Not the king’s restrained huff or the beast’s rumbling satisfaction. A real laugh—low, rough, darkened by the Blood Moon’s influence but unmistakably warm. It rolled through his chest and into her palms and through the bond in a wave of amusement so genuine it almost knocked her off-balance.
“My Luna.” His voice scraped over the words like gravel over glass—wrecked, raw, and so deep she felt it in her molars. One massive paw left the stone and settled on her hip, thumb tracing the crest of bone with a gentleness that contradicted the heat blazing through the bond. “Wants more of her king.”
Heat flooded her face. Which was absurd—she was naked, straddling a seven-foot alien wolf, slick with his cum, andblushing. Her body had moved past shame hours ago. Her pride, apparently, still had opinions.
“Don’t laugh at me.” She rolled her hips again, harder, and the amusement in his eyes shifted to something sharper. “I can feel you through the bond, Sylas. You want this as much as I do.”
“More.” The word came out rough. His paw flexed on her hip, claws pricking without breaking skin. “I want thismore. The beast hasn’t stopped wanting you since the moment your scent first hit my blood.” His thumb slid lower, tracing through the slick mess where their bodies had been joined, and her breath caught. “But watching you take what you need from me—”
Beneath her, she felt him stir. The slow thickening of his cock against her core, blood rushing back to fill what the knot’s deflation had softened. The flesh beneath her swelled, hardening in increments she could track through the bond—his arousal feeding hers, hers feeding his, the feedback loop spiraling upward with each roll of her hips.
“—that is something I could never have fathomed.”
His cock was fully hard again. Thick and flushed dark cyan, the ridged length of him pressing against her from below with a heat that felt like it could sear through skin. She shifted her hips, angling until the broad head notched against her entrance, and the contact sent a jolt through the bond that made them both shudder.
His paw moved to her thigh. Steadied her. Not guiding—supporting. Letting her set the pace.
“Take what’s yours, Luna.”
She sank down on him.
The sound that left her wasn’t civilized. Her body was swollen from the first claiming—tender, sensitized, every nerve ending rewritten by the bond’s completion—and taking him again was a different kind of devastation. No gradual inches this time. She was still slick with him, still stretched from the knot, and her body accepted the intrusion with a yielding ease that felt like surrender and triumph at once. He filled her in a single slow slide, the thick length of him pressing into spaces that already knew his shape, and the fullness—
Stars, thefullness.
The emptiness vanished. Replaced by a pressure so complete, so perfectly calibrated to the aching void the knot had left, that she nearly sobbed with the relief of it. Her inner walls clenched around him, greedy and involuntary, and through the bond she felt his response—a surge of raw, primal satisfaction that bordered on reverence.
She braced her hands on his chest and moved.
Slow at first. Testing the angle, the depth, the way her body responded to each shift of her hips. The claiming bite throbbed in time with her pulse, sending ripples of sensation down her spine that tangled with the pleasure building low in her belly. His fur was coarse beneath her palms, the muscle underneath like warm stone, and the contrast—soft human skin against the rough, inhuman terrain of his body—made something dark and wanting coil tighter inside her.
She found her rhythm. Rose and fell, riding him with a deliberation that made her thighs burn and her breath come in sharp, stuttered bursts. Each downstroke drove him deep—impossibly deep—the head of his cock hitting a place inside her that sent white sparks across her vision. Each upstroke dragged the ridged length of him against walls that were swollen andhypersensitive, friction so acute it blurred the line between pleasure and overstimulation.
Through the bond, she felt him watching her. Not just with his eyes—with everything. Every sense focused on the human female moving above him, and the hyperfocus of his attention was something she’d never felt before. Not possession, not hunger. Something quieter. More devastating.
Awe.
He was in awe of her.
“Beautiful.” The word left him like it had been dragged out by force—thick, guttural, barely intelligible through the growl layered beneath it. His paw slid up her thigh to grip her hip, claws dimpling skin without piercing, and the restrained strength in that grip—the raw power held in check by nothing but will and devotion—sent a bolt of heat through her center. “My Luna, claiming her king. Conquering what the Blood Moon gave her.”
She ground down on him, hard, and watched his head tip back against the stone. His throat worked. The tendons in his neck stood taut, muscles locked with the effort of not seizing her hips and driving up into her the way the beast demanded. Through the bond, she felt it—the war between his restraint and his need, the beast snarling to take over, the king holding the leash with white-knuckled focus.
“Let me see you,” he rasped. “Let me see my mate take what she’s earned.”
His satisfaction poured through the bond like molten metal—heavy, scorching, filling every crack and hollow the claiming had left raw. Not just physical pleasure, though that was there, a constant undercurrent that tightened her muscles and slicked her thighs. This was deeper. The satisfaction of a male watching his mate choose him. Claim him. Mount the Alpha King of theYzefrxyl and ride him on the raised stone of the sacred chamber like he belonged to her.
Because he did. The bond made it undeniable. She could feel the truth of it humming through every nerve, every synapse, every cell the bond had colonized during the claiming—he was hers as completely and irrevocably as she was his. Not owned.Chosen. And the choosing went both directions.