Page 32 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

“I will provide for you,” he growled. “Mate.”

Her gaze had dropped to his mouth and seemed to have stuck there. She nibbled at her lower lip with her teeth and a softohleft her on a rush of air. Her arousal spiked sharply, spurring his own to the point of pain, and he wanted, so badly, to push her down, to cover her body with his own, to show her, slowly and in great detail, exactly how a warrior provided for his beloved mate.

But she was not ready. Had she not said so herself?

And he would not push.

Before he could regain his control and withdraw, she touched a fingertip to his lower lip. “You have the most amazing mouth.”

He snarled. Now she had the temerity to caress him, with his strength on full display above her?

The smile she gave him held full knowledge of the things that simple touch did to him, how it had branded him as thoroughly as the mating bond they shared. “Let me get dressed and then maybe we can find something to eat.”

She placed one palm against his chest and pushed gently until he retreated, helpless before her, then shooed him off. He turned as he crossed the meager threshold provided by the partitions, just in time to catch the flash of a bare calf before she disappeared from view.

And shuddered under the aching remembrance of her touch.

Chapter Ten

Zoran left his mate’s bed before she woke, reluctantly disentangling himself from her touch. In her sleep, she had sought comfort from him, and he had not been able to deny her. Mia was his mate, he thought fiercely. Why should he not touch her, soothe her?

Pleasure her.

Shame followed so closely behind that thought, he flinched. She must consciously accept his touch as easily as she did when sleeping.

Yet last night, she had touched him of her own free will.

Even hours later, the imprint of her fingertip on his lip burned. What did that touch mean? Could she be bending to her own desires?

He slipped away without disturbing her slumber, padding quietly onto the balcony overlooking the town below. The sun had not yet shown itself, though its first light had touched the horizon, a liminal glow rending the night in two. With the ease of long practice, he moved into the first Ky’Lota form, disciplining his mind and body in the ancient soul dance anchored firmly in the distant past.

His focus remained elusive for entirely too long, aware as he was of his mate resting peacefully at his back. He drew in a long breath, held it for a moment, flowed into the second form on the exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The tension in his muscles released on another long breath, allowing him to move seamlessly into the next form, and he felt the first pulse of hiskii, his soul, surfacing into the dance.

Mind, body, soul, joining as one, bringing harmony to the conflict raging within him.

Mia was his mate.

Fate-given to him alone.

His to cherish.

His to protect, even from himself.

Mia.

She flowed into his soul as easily as the wind slipping through the trees, as eternal as the stars, inextricably woven into the fabric of his being.

By the time the sun crested the horizon, a light sweat coated his skin. He came to rest in the final form, kneeling before the coming day, his head bowed in gratitude for the Fates’ guidance.

Fabric whispered behind him, and Mia murmured, “Zoran?”

He turned to her without thought and found himself beside the bed, staring down at her slumbering form. Her hair had dried into ringlets overnight and now covered her face. Careful not to wake her, he slipped a clawed finger beneath the loose strands and swept them away from her face. His heart clenched tightly in his chest. So beautiful. So tempting.

Certainty settled into his soul, guiding him toward the correct path as the Fates had guided him to her. He must unearth this chocolate for his mate, and a comb. Would she allow him to brush the tangles out of her hair, to run his fingers through the silken strands?

Would she do the same for him?

Perhaps these humans had no such customs. If so, he must teach her to love him as he suspected he was coming to love her, each moment a small gift ever to be treasured.

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