Page 10 of Feral Moon Rising
Blake shook his head, though he didn’t move. “That’s not it, Lottie. You’re anything but disgusting. I ... you’re hurt enough. What Gray did ... I’m so sorry.”
I reached up to touch the mark in the crook of my neck, running my fingers over the tender patch. “I don't understand any of this. I don’t understand why I was so...” I waved my hand in front of my eyes to explain the purple haze of before, lost for words.
Blake nodded. “Yeah, me too. I don’t know what it was. Gray thinks we were drugged. For, I don’t know. I’m sorry you were hurt.” He took a slow step forward, reaching out. His fingers grazed my skin where the sweater slipped off my shoulder. “He should have asked,” he whispered, reverently.
“I don’t understand anything,” I repeated, staring up at him.
His fingers rested on the mark, his breaths coming short. “It’s a mating mark.”
“Awhat?”
“A mating mark. You’re our mate.” Blake licked his lips.
“He said that before,” I recalled. “So, you are going to bite me after all.” I backed into the bench where it butted against my spine.
“If you ask me to,” he breathed. “But not until then.” His pupils dilated, Blake dropped his hands. Skimming them over my arms, along my rib cage, he grabbed my waist. “Everything else, however...”
Blake paused for half a second, the only warning he gave me, before he lifted me onto the benchtop and stepped between my thighs. A gasp left me at the intimate contact. The sweatshirt pushed up to my thighs. I became all too conscious of the fact I wore nothing beneath the material—hisborrowed clothing. And how tall he stood. Even seated on the bench that pressed halfway up my back when I was at ground level, Blake still stood a full head over me.
“You’re a giant,” I mumbled, tipping my head back to stare up at him.
“Nah, you’re just tiny. I kinda like it,” he rumbled, pushing the sweatshirt further up my thighs. “But I’m regretting giving you this. I liked curling around you. Liked feeling you closer.” He scooted my butt to the edge of the benchtop, taking the opportunity to slip his hands beneath the material and up to my ribs.
“Blake,” I whispered.
“Want me to bite you or kiss you?” he murmured seductively, his lips turning up in a flirtatious smile that made it hard to take him seriously at all, though I knew he meant it.
Both.
“Kiss me?” I whispered back, afraid of what the other meant, and not understanding his rules.
Disappointment flared in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word. Rough thumbs played a slow rhythm gliding up and down my waist as he dipped his head. His breath brushed across my lips as I leaned into him, finding the hem of his tee and tugging on it as my eyelids drifted shut.
“Having fun?” Gray cut in. Heavy footfalls I justknewhe made louder on purpose announced him belatedly.
I ducked my head, hiding in Blake’s tee. His arms folded around me in a protective embrace I didn’t instantly hate. Resting my head on his chest I listened to them talk then fight, the conflict becoming vague to me as always. Blake’s warmth surrounded me. Part of me wished I’d taken up his offer to bite me. Then I realized how insane that sounded, and wanted to slap myself stupid for the mere thought. I didn't survive several weeks on the streets by letting every Gray and his brother bite me whenever they wanted. On cue, my shoulder twinged, and I flinched.
“Are you all right?” Blake pushed my hair back where it fell across my face.
“Is she hurting?” Gray barged in, yanking me from my safe warmth with hard hands and an unyielding face. Cold eyes the color of a storm over the sea studied me.
“She is fine, thank you,” I muttered, shoving at his chest. Not that it made any difference whatsoever. “Shewould like some courtesy and warning beforehebarges in from now on. Please,” I added, rolling my shoulder.
Gray, predictably, ignored me. “Does it hurt?” He tugged me forward, his grip softening as he cradled me against his larger form. Hot breath brushed my shoulder and before I could question his motives, he was licking my wound again.
“Stop that.” I wriggled in his hold but that had the same effect as pushing at him before—nada.“You can’t be serious,” I protested. “Licking is not an apology, unless you’re between a girl’s legs.”
That last fell out, and I had no idea where from. Gray’s blustering nature brought out the sass in me.
“Is that so?” He raised his head, locking eyes with me. His gaze shifted, focusing above my head for a second. Then I was airborne and slung across the kitchen bench. Hands crossed behind my head. I whimpered, grasping about as Blake’s face came into view.
“Breathe,” he murmured, apologetically. “I think you asked for something and Gray is about to give it to you.”
A pair of hands pushed my legs open as my bare butt hit the benchtop for the second time. I barely had a second to process that thought before a hot, wet tongue lapped along my pussy.
I cried out, and found Blake’s fingers sliding into my mouth, muffling the sound.
“Shhh, Lottie. Let him say sorry in the way he knows best. Just ... try not to scream, okay?” His face filled with sympathy as he cradled my head gently, stroking my hair and slid his fingers in and out of my mouth.
