Page 28 of Heron's Flame

She blinked, surprised that I remembered. I learned it the day we met but never said it since. She preferred Rebel. Using her real name seemed wrong until now.

I withdrew, plunging back inside her as she gasped. “Yeah, I remember everything about you, Rebecca. It’s stored in my head and marked under permanent files.”

She smirked, pulling me closer to her as I began to move, picking up speed as my hips drove deeper, building back up the friction we needed. “You’re in here.” Her fingertip tapped her heart. “It’s scary to admit but true.”

Fuck. Was she saying that she loved me?

“I’ve loved you for a long ass time, my Rebel.”

“I know.” Her fingertips skated along my chest, rising to press against my lips. “Loving you seemed to happen without my consent. It snuck up on me, but I won’t let it go now.”

Damn. What a confession. “Fuck, Spark, you make me feel alive.”

Her expression softened. “Alive. That’s what I feel with you.” Her voice caught, and I wanted to ask a dozen questions about the surging emotions that followed. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t realize that I had until she mentioned it. My hips pulled back as I withdrew and then punched as I drove deep into her, filling her and wanting to erase anything from her past that made her feel empty, alone, or less than beautiful.

“I need you to come,” I announced, pushing up her legs and dropping them over my shoulders. I slid into her, leveraging one hand on the mattress as I used the other to tease her clit. “Fucking soak me. Come hard enough that you get the sheets wet.”

She made a low noise in her throat, a sort of wail as I strummed that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her shoot off like a rocket. I knew the second she came because she gripped my cock so fucking tight that I hissed. Her walls squeezed, and I pistoned my hips, trying to give her all that she needed to drag out her orgasm.

“Manu!”

There it was. Her cry awoke the dormant beast inside me. I grew relentless after that, fucking her nearly raw. She enjoyed that. Only two emotions stood out: satisfaction and love. They poured from her into me, filling that empty cavern inside my chest until I was so full I thought I’d crack wide open. I came with a shudder, pumping into her until I was spent.

Her name fell from my lips as a caress. I pulled out and rolled over, bringing her against me as I wrapped her in my embrace. I held this precious, beautiful woman in my arms and swore I would protect and love her as long as I lived.

The caws of crows lifted in celebration outside the window. A single kraa resonated deep in my chest.

Heron, Manu Hale Williams, was mated.

Chapter 9 Heron

Over the following two weeks, we were insatiable. I had Rebel every single way I could get her. My cock saw more action during that time than in my previous twenty-three years combined. We were reckless and wild and couldn’t get enough of one another. I probably should have been stricter about using a condom, but we talked about it, knew we were both clean, and decided it just felt too damn good to worry about it now.

Besides, Rebel was protected and mated to a crow.

Why the fuck did it matter if we used protection or not?

The only issue, although not for me, was pregnancy. Rebel closed up when I asked her about it, so I’d have to bring it up again at some point. Until then, I left it up to her. I didn’t want to push the subject, but my curiosity only increased about her past and all the reasons she stayed quiet.

As the day for the bike rally approached, I loaded my saddlebags and prepared for the ride. Anticipation and excitement buzzed through my brothers, and I could feel it in the air. Events like this gave us a chance to hang with brothers from other clubs, check out vendors, see the tricked-out bikes, drool over the designs, and spend quality time with our women. It felt damn good to say I had my ol’ lady with me.

Rebel seemed thrilled to join me, wrapping her arms around my waist as she settled behind me on the seat. We weaved through traffic with the rest of the club, finally parking close to the tent pitched for the Devil’s Murder. Beside us, the Royal Bastards from Tonopah had erected their own tent, providing an endless party for the duration of our stay.

The rally was massive, with hundreds of vendors, food trucks, beer stalls, tattoo artists, and bike enthusiasts spreadacross several blocks just off the Strip. Traffic had been closed off to the streets, and the festival seemed like a sea of cuts and leather. I spotted people mingling, drinking, and getting new ink everywhere we walked.

“Wow! Did you see that tattoo?” Rebel asked, staring at the dragon a guy had running down the length of his arm. He sat on a chair while the artist added the last green scales to the design.

“It’s badass,” I agreed.

“Look!” She pointed to a tent across from us. “Leather sex toys!”

I groaned as she dragged me across to the vendor.

“I’ve never seen so many different leather whips, floggers, and accessories.”

A familiar female voice replied, “I also make them custom-ordered if that’s what you prefer.”

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