Page 49 of Fate Promised

With one driving thrust, he knotted her. The intensity slammed through her. A fullness mixed with a connection deeper than she’d known could exist. When he locked into place behind her pubic bone, she wrapped her legs around him and let him take her away. Pleasure erupted in waves stronger than anything she’d ever felt, and she peaked, crying out.

Juri groaned, and the first wash of his release shot hot inside her. Triska clung to his shoulders and hung on.

His hips circled, and his cock throbbed with another release. That was all it took. She shattered again, his name falling from her lips over and over.

He held her close as she fell apart, and when she finally stopped shuddering, he began again.

20

He lay on his side, Triska facing him, her legs tangled with his and her arm clutching him close. He’d bundled the blankets over her, knowing how much she loved being swaddled. A few hours ago, when the milky wash of night faded to the soft light of dawn, they’d taken a break, and he’d purred soothingly until she floated off to sleep. He knew exactly how his purrs affected her now. The rough one he rumbled low in her ear stoked her desire to fevered heights. The gentle, calming one slowed her heartbeat and melted her against him.

A songbird landed near the open window and twittered loudly, announcing the morning. His lip rose up his eyetooth. The night had passed so quickly. Too quickly.

Triska nestled her face deeper into his chest and he cradled her close. Being with her surpassed anything he’d imagined—and he’d imagined it often. She’d molded to him as if she were made for him. All of him. And being sealed inside her was addictive. Incredible. Thank Perun-above she wasn’t in heat because, with all the time he’d spent knotting them together, he’d have gotten her with child. His child. For one glittering moment, he imagined Triska holding their baby, and warmth flooded his entire body, but just as quickly, he tamped it down. He couldn’t stay with her, and he’d never have a vulk child he’d leave behind. Never.

Footsteps sounded outside the room, loud enough for non-vulk to hear as Koschei got up and walked down the hall. “I don’t want to move,” she mumbled.

“If you wanted to move, then I didn’t do something right.”

She stretched and drew back to look him in the face. “Oh, you did everything right. Only I didn’t get to look my fill like I wanted to.” Her lips twitched. “It’s my turn to be bossy, and I want to bathe with you. Then I can see everything I didn’t get a chance to admire last night. Koschei must have a washing tub or a shower.”

“Or we swim in the ocean, and I’ll tell Arrow he has to take off. No peeking at you nude.”

She laughed, and the light, tinkling sound was the best possible music. “He doesn’t know the difference, he’s a dragon.”

“You say that now. What if someday he shifts and shows he can take human form?”

Juri rolled the sheet around her, then slid off the bed, hauling her up in his arms. He let the sheet drape down over his waist—although he didn’t care if Koschei saw him naked.

Juri strode out into the hall and took a right, heading for the room at the end of the hall. He’d scented water, and as they entered, it proved to be the washroom. Along the back wall was a drain with thin, sandy-colored wood slats covering the floor and wall. From the ceiling hung a spigot with a long pull chain. He tugged on it and released a gentle cascade of water.

Tearing the sheet away, he kept Triska in his arms and entered the space. The water was warm, not quite hot, but pleasant enough. Triska closed her eyes and tilted her head, allowing the water to wash over her face. He shifted her in his arms, letting it caress each bit of her skin. A large sea sponge was hanging from one slat, and a lumpy bar of soap was next to it.

He put Triska down, then lathered the sponge. As he wiped it across her shoulder, she said, “You know, I can wash myself.”

Juri growled. “Not a chance.”

Washing her was courtship behavior. Actually, it was beyond courtship behavior—it was the way a male looked after his mate—but he didn’t care. He had her for the night. And this morning.

Her hands roamed up his arms, sliding across the wet skin. “All right. It gives me a chance to watch you as much as I want.”

When he knelt to wash the smooth line of her calve, he bumped into the wall. He growled. They didn’t build the shower for one his size.

His skin tingled as if the water had turned icy. His vision rippled, and he saw two of Triska. A moment of darkness swept over him as if he’d passed out.

“Juri!” Triska stared at him, her mouth falling open. “You’re …. Look down.”

The fingers spread along the shower basin weren’t the charcoal gray of a vulk; they were the bronzed, more blunted ones of a man. He raised his hand and brought it to his face. A face without a muzzle. His mouth dropped open.

“How is this possible?” Triska asked. “I thought vulk only had one form?”

He stood and it wasn’t the smooth motion of a vulk, but slower. Strange. The water cascaded over his back and chest, and it tickled without the protection of his vulk hair. He stretched, feeling his non-vulk limbs work. He was still at least a foot taller than Triska, but he felt condensed. “My Alpha can change form at will. He’s been tight-lipped on why, but I always guessed it was because of the mating bond. Maybe because of our rune …”

He lifted his hand, concentrated, and his vulk skin and hair returned. Huh. He could change form now? Why? He let his human skin return and studied his hand.

The essence of being a vulk was to protect Ulterra—that was why at twenty years old, they took their vulk form and never looked back. Yet here he was … in his original form again.

He ran his hand over his face, pausing when he reached his mouth. A mouth. With lips. In one motion he picked Triska up and pressed her against the wall. He lowered his mouth to hers.

---