was born simply from his dislike for any bird. But in any case, Chico wasn’t his main concern at the moment. Teresa was.
She was his mate. Under his protection. But even as he tried to assure himself that his consideration for her was based on mutual respect, he knew it was more.
Teresa had already claimed a small corner of his heart and it would be pointless to pretend otherwise. He held her bare feet in his palms and looked at the dozens of scrapes and deep scratches. She winced and he saw it, hating that she was in pain, even this slight discomfort.
“Hold still.”
“Rune …”
“Shh.” He closed his eyes, called up the fire and let the living flames dance across his hands and the soles of her feet. Warmth spread from him to her and back again in a link that had been destined to be forged. The inevitability of it filled the empty spaces within him and he gave himself up to the rush of it.
“The cuts are healed,” he finally said.
“Thanks.” She tried to pull free, but he held on to her. Need swamped him and he yielded to the draw of the Mating ritual. To claim her again and again. To hold on to her despite the danger building around them.
He rose up, took her mouth with his and felt her surrender as her body answered his call.
A low, throaty growl erupted from his throat as he looked into his woman’s eyes. Her desire raged and fed his own. Her body ached and called to his. The Mating clawed at each of them and the skin around the branding tattoo burned.
Keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he swept one hand in front of his body and his clothing was gone in a blink. He did the same with the T-shirt she wore, baring her luscious, honey-colored skin to him. She sighed and reached for him, dragging her nails along his thighs and up until she was cupping his hard, heavy length in both palms.
Rune hissed in a breath and held perfectly still while her fingers explored him. Up and back, her hands slid over his rock-hard body and he groaned when her touch smoothed the very tip of him, sliding a single bead of moisture there in tight circles designed to drive him mad.
His thoughts racing, his body churning, Rune couldn’t stand another second of not touching her. He pulled her up, tossed her back onto the bed and saw her mouth curve in pleasure as he bent to lower himself over her. Body brushing hers, the tips of her nipples practically scalding his already heated skin, he took one kiss and then another, teeth tugging at her lower lip until she groaned and lifted her hands to cup his face.
Her scent surrounded Rune, pulling him in, drawing him closer to her heat, to the mystical bonds entwining them so completely. He swept his hands up and down her body, coveting every inch, exploring every curve. Every time with her was like the first time. His body ached for release and his soul stirred in recognition of the one woman he would always need.
She whispered to him, her words broken, coming on a sigh, lost in the cavernous room. But he didn’t need to hear her to know that she felt as he did. That the fire burning inside him was also engulfing her. She arched up, offering him her breasts, and he accepted the offering. His mouth closed over her left nipple and he felt it pebble and harden with a few quick flicks of his tongue. Desire pumped thick in his veins as he drew back far enough to run the tip of his tongue across the branding tattoo already beginning to encircle her breast.
Lightning bolts.
His witch. His woman of power, dazzling in her strength, humbling in her vulnerability. He wanted all of her. Craved all of her.
A roar of something primal and purely male rushed through his system as he stared at that brand. His mark on her skin. A claim staked. This woman was his and no one else’s. Her luscious body, strong spirit and quick mind were sworn to his keeping.
“I need you, Teresa,” he whispered, bending his head to kiss her neck, the curve of her throat. He felt her pulse beat beneath his lips and wished that his still heart could beat in tandem with hers. To make them even more of a unit. One whole. At last.