Page 40 of Cursed Alien

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, one clawed hand cupping her face with exquisite gentleness. His eyes searched hers, looking for something she couldn’t name.

“Mine,” he growled, the word rumbling from deep in his chest.

The book’s words echoed in her mind.Once a Vultor recognizes their true mate, a biological imperative activates. The mating bond is sacred.

In that moment, she understood. This wasn’t just about a bargain or repairs or even friendship. This was about belonging. About finding the one person in the universe who saw past the beast to the soul beneath.

“Yes,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “Yes, I am.”

With a sound that was half growl, half moan, he swept her into his arms. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he cradled her against his chest. Despite his intimidating appearance, his hold was gentle, reverent even.

As he carried her through the keep, she knew they were heading towards his chamber—towards the nest of furs that had become theirs. She should have been nervous, perhaps even afraid, but all she felt was a profound sense of rightness.

“Yours,” she whispered against his neck, feeling his arms tighten around her in response. “And you’re mine.”

The curse of the unmated, the book had called it. But Malrik wasn’t unmated anymore.

He had her.

And she, against all odds and expectations, had found exactly where she belonged.

CHAPTER19

Malrik’s beast roared in triumph as he carried Bella back to their nest. Her scent filled his nostrils—sweet, intoxicating, and now tinged with desire. His. She was his. The knowledge thundered through his blood, drowning out all other thoughts.

The journey through the corridors of the keep passed in a blur. His beast cared nothing for the repairs they’d made together, the spaces they’d cleaned, the small victories they’d celebrated. It wanted only the safety of their den, the privacy of their nest.

When he shouldered open the door to their chamber, the afternoon sunlight spilled across the nest of furs. He laid her down as gently as he could considering the tremors of need that shook his body.

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide but unafraid. Her hair spread across the furs like liquid gold, and her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

Something primal and possessive surged through him. With one swift movement, he tore away the fabric of her clothes, shredding them as if they were made of paper. His claws retracted just in time to avoid marking her skin. Her beauty had stunned him the night before, but she looked even more beautiful now, her pale skin glowing in the golden sunlight.

He bent his head to the hollow of her throat, inhaling deeply. Her scent intoxicated him, stirring his desire even higher. The need to claim her, to mark her as his, beat like a drum in his veins.

But beneath the hunger and instinct, a fragment of his rational mind remained. The memory of her gentle touch, her laughter, her trust—his Vultor side recognized the precious gift she offered.

“Mine,” he growled again, the word barely recognizable through his fangs.

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached for him, her slender fingers tracing the contours of his face.

“Yours,” she agreed, her voice steady despite the flush that colored her cheeks.

The beast howled its approval as Malrik lowered his head to claim her mouth. The kiss was hungry, demanding, a physical manifestation of the need that had driven him to the edge of madness. Her lips parted beneath his, welcoming him, and the sweet taste of her nearly undid him.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, then down his chest, pushing aside the tatters remains of his clothing. Every sensation was heightened, every touch magnified.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured against his mouth when her fingers brushed one of his wounds.

“Doesn’t matter,” he managed to growl.

She smiled against his lips, then gently pushed him back. “Let me see you.”

The beast bristled at the command, but something else—something that had been buried beneath fur and fang and claw—responded to the care in her voice. He allowed her to push the remnants of his clothing away, exposing the full extent of his injuries.

“What happened?” she asked, her fingers ghosting over a particularly deep scratch that ran from his shoulder to his sternum.

“Trees,” he grunted. “Rocks. Didn’t care.”

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