Page 86 of Alpha Varsity

I smash my mouth over Lotta’s in a rough, passionate kiss. And now I’ve forgotten the nuanced sex I planned for us.

The need to claim her, to consummate us and this moment is too strong.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve pushed her onto her back on the bed, my hand cradled behind her head, my tongue exploring her mouth.

I knock her knees wide and find home, piercing her with a brutal thrust.

“Oh, fate, yes.” She throws her head back, rocking up to take me even deeper.

I don’t break the kiss. It’s like I’m trying to express the depth of my passion for her with every twist of my lips. Every thrust of my tongue. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I need to consume her. To marry her. To mark and mate her.

The bed slams against the wall with the force of my thrusts. The mattress bows and springs.

I grip the headboard with one hand and drive into her like our lives depend on it.

“Yes, yes!” Lotta cries.

“Yes.” I don’t recognize my own voice, it’s so deep and guttural.

There’s a moment when we transcend. I swear we dip into a space of no time and place. Of infinity. Of experiencing the fractals of every lifetime and dimension we’ve been mates.

There’s a roaring in my ears. Like rushing water or wind. I shout, but I can’t hear my voice over the noise.

All I know is I’m coming.

Lotta’s already there.

The moment expands and widens. It crystallizes.

Serum coats my teeth before they sink into her shoulder, forever embedding my scent in her skin.

We both orgasm again.

When I finally withdraw my teeth from her shoulder and lick the wounds closed, I murmur, “I love you, Lotta James.”

“I love you, Asher Martin. Forever and always.”

Lotta

“What happened here?” I ask in the shower the next morning, my fingertips tracing the jagged marks of a recent trauma.

I woke in Asher’s arms again–pure heaven, if shifters believed in heaven. We made love in the warm sheets, and I told him the story of what happened with his dad. It killed him, but he stayed present. Held me. Listened. Cried.

I promised I wasn’t traumatized. That my only trauma had ever been over hurting him.

Then he carried me here, to the shower, where we made love again. If this is my life now, I love it.

“What?” Asher looks down at his torso and swipes a hand over the healing wounds.

How did I not notice them last night? I was too swept away to even realize my mate was hurt.

“Oh. I got hit by a car yesterday.”

“Asher!”

“No, it was a good thing. I was out of my mind, running up through bear country. Getting hit on the highway knocked the sense back into me. That’s what made me realize I’d screwed up leaving you.”

The part of me that believed I had to muscle through life and do everything on my own relaxes even more. I’m still getting used to the idea that I’ll never be alone again. That someone will always have my back.

---