Page 86 of Untethering Dark

Oh, how decadent she would be once he finally got a taste.

But watching her fail to stop, then erect a wall of snow, the sharp, alarming scent of her panic spiking the air, he closed in fast. Astrid was capable, her magic strong, but he wasn’t leaving it to chance that she’d slow in time.

He lunged, tackling her to the ground, stopping all momentum.

“Don’t eat me!” she shrieked, tears streaking down her face as she threw up her hands.

He reared back, confused.

Eat her? He wanted to fuck her. Maybe even expand his species with her and help her build a coven of her own.

“Please, Gudariks.” She cried harder, begging for mercy. Frost limned her fingertips, magic held back for now, but poised to unleash if provoked.

The panic, the fear, was real. He scared her, perhaps all a bit too well.

“Liebling,” he cooed, withdrawing his weight completely. “You’re safe with me. Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

A hiccup escaped her lips, but then she quieted, swiping at the tears freezing to her cheeks with trembling hands. “No, but I thought...” She met his eyes then, and whatever she saw therecalmed her, her scent blooming into something softer, warmer. “There you are.”

“I’m here,” he soothed, clasping one of her hands, heat meeting icy bite. “I’ve always been here.”

She nodded, a smile slowly forming. “I shouldn’t have doubted.”

“Never doubt your instincts. They’re there for a reason.”

Although he hadn’t lost control, hadn’t even felt it creeping out of his grasp, she should trust herself before him. He might never intend to hurt her, but wasn’t that the hazard of life spent with others? No matter the intentions, there was always room to cause pain.

“I still want to play...” She began, brow creased. “But I need your voice as a touchpoint. Something that lets me know you’re still there.”

He tucked a wayward strand of hair delicately behind her ear, careful not to snag her with his claws. “The silence scared you.”

“Exactly. What’s between us is new, and I don’t know the difference between your regular hunting and your play hunting.”

Ah.

Hunting was second nature, as easy as breathing, and he fell into it headfirst at her command, but just because he knew a pleasurable outcome awaited Astrid at the end of the chase, didn’t mean she did.Howhe hunted her was important. It should be special, different from the usual.

“Thank you for telling me that, Liebling.” He let go of her hand in favor of loosening the straps at her feet, coaxing one ski off, then another. “From now on, I’ll give you no reason to doubt my intentions.”

“So, we’ll play?”

He took his time laying the skis off to the side, giving them both space to settle into the mindset. It wasn’t until she made an impatient, needy noise that he replied, “We’ll play.”

Grabbing her ankles, Gudariks dragged her across the snow toward him, bringing her thighs flush with his haunches. The sweater she wore rode up her torso, exposing snow-white flesh. “Thought you could run from me, little witch?” He growled against her neck, his teeth bared. “And hide? I could smell your arousal for kilometers.”

As if conjured by the words, her sweet scent flooded between them, curling around his senses, making him feral with need. This must be what she meant, voice as a touchpoint, and it was working. “Better?” he whispered.

“Much,” she breathed, her rich, heady scent blooming further.

Inhaling deep, he teased outside her clothing. Even though he was the one to run her down into the snow, the one with the strength to overpower and claim, it was Astrid and her tantalizing scent that had him in her thrall, at her mercy.

Slipping past waistbands and cloth, he retracted his claws and delved into her wet seam. Teased her sensitive bud, rimmed her puckered flesh. Stretching, readying, spreading her slick and coaxing from her more of that delicious scent. His mouth watered, yearned.

Flipping her onto her stomach, Gudariks hiked her hips high, bringing her most tender parts to his face. “I’m ravenous for the taste of you.”

It was all the warning he gave. With a careful slice of a claw, he split the cloth revealing her swollen, yielding flesh. So pink and glistening and begging to be devoured. Mouth all tingly with need, he swept his long, dexterous tongue along her seam, laving her folds in pleased, appreciative strokes.

A soft, shuddering moan escaped Astrid’s lips.

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