Page 93 of Theirs to Crave

During our marriage, he’d kept the truth of his twisted nature private. In public, he was charming, the model husband. It was only when we were alone that the vile shit pile of his personality came out.

That changed when I left. Not being able to control me broke something in his brain. By the time the bruises from Mariano’s “talk” healed and he finally slunk back to his big, empty house, even his closest friends had stopped talking to him.

It had been awful. But in the end, it was worth the stares and comments at the bodega. Worth the sympathy cards from coworkers. Worth the cost of the damned lawyers—to no longer be living in a secret hell.

Now, he was probably living in a very public one. Given all that had happened, he was likely suspect number one in our disappearances. He might even go to jail for it, pobrecito.

I hoped he never knew a moment of peace, and all his problems had my name.

Revik snarled with such rage I knew he’d have killed Drake if the cabrón had been within reach.

Impetuously, I kissed him. His fur wasn’t as silky soft as Zaf’s. It was sleek, but almost rough as my mouth rubbed against it, like wet velvet.

Revik grunted in surprise, his lips parting.

I couldn’t help myself. My tongue slipped out, turning the kiss from a simple thank you to something deeper. Something hotter. I tasted the seam between his lips—one smooth, one furry—moaning when he parted them.

He was a hell of a fast learner. He cupped my head in his big hand, lips moving against mine as he sank down, pressing his thrumming chest against my breasts. My nipples hardened, the heavy velvet brush of his fur unbelievably sensual.

In my mouth, his tongue was a hot wave, muscular and agile. It twined around mine, tugging, sliding, licking.

My clit throbbed, demanding the same treatment.

I pulled back, gasping, and clapped a hand to my mouth.

Revik’s jaw dropped in a wolfish grin. That long black tongue rolled out, slowly licking my blood from the dagger point of his tooth.

Okay, there were reasons the Teterayuh didn’t kiss. I squirmed in Zaf’s lap, feeling the bulge beneath my ass that was significantly harder than it’d been a few minutes before—not to mention the sting of my shredded inner thighs—and knew I’d be making out with them anyways, every chance I got.

Was Zaf’s magic ointment safe for oral use?

“To hurt mate—” Litha shook her head, her expression fierce. She cupped my cheek, bringing her forehead to mine and murmuring something that sounded like a vow. Or a curse.

“You have choice,” she whispered, repeating Revik’s words. “But understand. I want toevrahyou. I want to be good mate for you. Want you to be ourLelesha. We no hurt you.”

Litha grinned suddenly, the happy, wicked expression startling against the searing intensity of her gaze. She trailed her hand down my neck, making me shiver, and spread her fingers over my chest. “No hurt here.” Her smile widened—showing her own mouthful of sharp teeth—and her voice gained a husky edge. “Little hurts...other places.”

I whimpered. How, was a mystery. I’d just melted into a puddle of horny goo, so I shouldn’t have been able to make a sound.

I closed my eyes. It took a few long breaths before I managed to form myself into a facsimile of a functional person, but even though I cleared my throat, my voice came out wobbly and weak.

“Please. What iservah?”

Zaf chuckled, giving me a little cuddle that I soaked up shamelessly. “Before choose mate, Teterayuherval. Bring food. Gifts.”

He said some more things I only caught a few words of, but I got the picture. Courting. They wanted to court me, and—if I agreed—make me their mate.

My insides—especially the slutty parts—stood up and danced. I tried to think past the fiesta de baile. I knew what Iwanted, but sometimes what I wanted turned out to be pretty bad for me. And it wasn’t just my happiness on the line. Saytireka’s pinched, watchful face pushed into my mind. What would the other Teterayuh think? Could this hurt my family’s future?

I didn’t know what the long-term plans were for us fosterlings. Maybe when we’d learned enough to be self-sufficient they’d release us to live on our own. In a few years Mariano and I could be sharing a treehouse two doors down from our Abuele, bickering about chores and scaring the local wildlife with impromptu classic eighties concerts.

The Teterayuh didn’t all trust us. An image of Saytireka popped into my head, Arvel’s creepy stare looming behind her. There was no way either of them would approve of me marrying into the clan.

But I saw the cobweb-brushing less and less, and some of the Teterayuh who wouldn’t make eye contact when we’d arrived were actually friendly now. There was an old man who helped take care of the babies—I’d met him while visiting Svixa—who used to hiss if I came within five feet of him. Last time I was in the village, he sat beside me at lunch and didn’t even flinch.

Plus, I’d caught more than a few lingering glances directed towards other members of my family. The shift from fosterlings to in-laws might be inevitable.

I curled a lock of hair around my finger, imagining three braids hanging from my temple. Thought of sleeping each night between three purring bodies. Growing fluent in Teterayuh and having long, deep conversations, cuddled together by the fire.

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