Page 63 of Asking Fur Trouble

“You feel so good,” he said, his voice strained.

Her head tipped back as pleasure coiled low in her belly, building with every movement. Her legs tightened around him, urging him on, and he groaned, his forehead pressing against hers.

“Bess,” he breathed, “I’m going to mark you. My mate mark. Are you ready?”

She nodded, her heart racing. “Yes.”

He shifted ever so slightly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, and more urgent. She could feel the tension building in him, in her, and then it happened—her body clenched around him, pleasure exploding through her in waves. She cried out, her hands clutching at him as she spiraled into bliss.

Seconds later, he roared, and his hips jerked as he climaxed, his nails digging into the soft skin of her hip. She felt the sting of his mate mark, a sharp, possessive scratch that she knew would leave a scar—a permanent reminder that she belonged to him, body and soul.

When the waves of their pleasure finally subsided, Charov pressed his forehead to hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Mine,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent.

“Yours,” she whispered back, her fingers brushing against his cheek.

For the first time, her heart was full.

FORTY-FOUR

Two weeks later, Bess stood in the royal bridal preparation room, her hands shaking slightly as Emesyn adjusted the glittering tiara atop her carefully styled waves. The transformation from Earth insurance clerk to Nova Aurora’s queen seemed impossibly swift, like something from a fairy tale that shouldn’t happen to ordinary women like her.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gerri commanded, appearing suddenly at her side in a stunning cobalt blue designer suit that made her white bob gleam even brighter against her petite frame. “You’re going to make Emesyn stick you with those pins.”

“I can’t help it,” Bess admitted, catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. The wedding gown was unlike anything she could have imagined—shimmering white fabric that reflected the light of Nova Aurora’s dual suns in a way Earth fabrics never could, hugging her curves before cascading into a train that would trail behind her through the royal gardens. “Six weeks ago, I was processing insurance claims.”

Emesyn smiled, sliding another pearl-tipped pin into Bess’s hair. “And today you’re marrying the most eligible bear shifter on Nova Aurora.”

“Most insatiable, too, from what I hear.” Gerri winked, her blue eyes flickering briefly to gold. “Those scratch marks on your hip healing nicely?”

Heat flooded Bess’s face. The mate mark had indeed healed into a faint silvery scar that tingled pleasantly whenever Charov was near. Though she had quickly learned that the mate bond had other, more intense effects—like being able to sense his moods, his desires, and most disturbingly, when he was thinking about her in particularly carnal ways. Like right now.

“He’s thinking about you, isn’t he?” Gerri placed a knowing hand on Bess’s arm. “I can always tell when mates are communicating.”

“Not exactly communicating,” Bess murmured, feeling her core tighten at the wave of possessive hunger that swept through the bond. “More like...projecting.”

“Bears,” Gerri rolled her eyes. “No patience. Especially on their wedding day.”

A loud knock at the door made all three women turn. Emesyn opened it to reveal a royal messenger who bowed deeply.

“His Majesty wishes to know if his bride requires anything before the ceremony.”

Before Emesyn could answer, Bess felt another pulse through the bond—this one so explicit that her knees nearly buckled.

“Tell His Majesty,” Bess said, finding her voice suddenly husky, “that his bride requests he keep his thoughts decent until after the ceremony.”

The messenger’s eyes widened, but he nodded and retreated.

Less than thirty seconds later, Charov’s deep laughter echoed through the mate bond, followed by:Never.

“He’s impossible,” Bess sighed, but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

“He’s yours,” Gerri corrected, adjusting Bess’s veil. “Forever. How does that feel?”

Bess closed her eyes, allowing herself to truly feel the connection that pulsed between her and Charov—warm, vital, and as necessary as breathing. “Like coming home to a place I never knew existed.”

“That’s how it should feel,” Gerri nodded approvingly. “Now, let’s get you married before that bear of yours decides to skip the ceremony and just carries you off to his den.”

Emesyn gasped. “He wouldn’t!”

---