He’d never experienced anything more exciting in his life. Or more fulfilling.
He savored every twitch of her body, every sweet gasp, until finally her body quieted and her grip on his hair loosened.
“I got you.” He drew her down.
Chest heaving, she sank into his hold, letting him guide her into his lap. Her eyes were shut as her head lolled against his chest. He wrapped her in his arms.
He could have held her like that forever, their hearts beating in unison, the tie between them stronger than ever, his throbbing dick nestled in her wet, satisfied heat.
But he knew that wasn’t possible.
Almost as soon as he thought it, she stiffened.
Her head snapped upright so fast she nearly clocked his chin. “Your hands.”
Revealing he was free of his binds was a risk on his part, but sometimes that was what was required. Words alone weren’t going to be enough to reach someone as wounded as Nayla. Action was vital. The big gesture type. The blow-up-in-your-face kind.
“Yup.” He kept his voice casual, his arms still cradling her close. “I’ve been out of the ropes for some time. But the choice was still always yours. I am not going to take that away from you ever again.”
30
Nayla willed her pleasure-dazed brain to work.
His hands. On her skin. Holding her tight.
He’d broken free of her knots.
She shoved to standing.
He let her go, following her up so that he loomed above, his hands raised, his palms outward. “Nothing has changed. You’re still in charge.”
She stared at the frayed ropes dangling from his wrists. “H-how?”
“I’ve been free since you let me put my mouth on your sweet pussy and I haven’t moved on you. I haven’t forced you to return with me. I’m trying to do better. I want you to come to me of your own free will. I want what happens between us to be your choice, Nayla. If you trust me in that, we can make anything work.”
Caught between fury and awe, her emotions were as jagged as the cliffs around her. He always won. And yet, in holding back, in letting her touch him as she wanted, hadn’t she won, too?
“Nayla, baby.” He took a small step closer, his gaze pleading. “Tied or not, can’t you see the power you have?”
That look in his eyes…she recognized it as a reflection her own. Need. Vulnerability. He could have forced her at any time. Instead, he’d tempered his strength, pushed himself past what was comfortable, and shared part of himself with her.
She knew that could not have been easy for a male like him.
He didn’t pretend he didn’t do it without purpose, or because he wasn’t ruthless, but he’d done it all the same.
It was the kind of fierce caretaking she’d never imagined, and everything she wanted.
Except, what if it unraveled like everything else? He said he was offering her a chance at a new beginning, a new life among his kind and a safe place to land, but she would never accept it if it came at the cost of her pack.
He’d let down his walls, but he was still the same male he’d been before: forceful, demanding, in control. First and foremost, a warrior and protector. A hero intent on saving his people above all else. A soldier beholden to a commander who had already called for her death.
When it came down to it, she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to choose compromise over justice and retribution.
If she agreed to help him and her pack suffered for it, she would never forgive herself.
“I don’t know. I need time to think. I—” A familiar blur from the side halted her midstatement. “Sharluff, naja!” But it was too late.
Grif shoved her out of the way.
Feathers and human skin clashed.
She leapt up, or tried, her ankle folding in on itself. With a second try, she forced herself to standing.
A growling ton of feathers and fury loomed over Grif. Sharluff’s beaked jaws were open wide, a thousand tiny teeth bared and less than a hair’s breadth from the male’s throat, one massive, clawed paw parked on his chest, pinning him to the ground
Terror thundered through her. Her pet must have sensed her turmoil and come to her aid. Only this time, she didn’t want it.
“Sharluff!” She leapt at him, seizing his thick neck and tugging. “Naja. Naaaande ligoothe.”
“Nayla, get back.” Grif’s low warning was barely audible over her pet’s menacing growls.
“It’s okay,” she kept her voice singsongy, not wanting to upset either of them.
She could not allow Sharluff to kill Grif.
Yes, a few rotations past she would have let her beast rip the male apart without a second thought. No longer.
“No worry. I…” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the flash of silver pressed hard to Sharluff’s thick throat.
“Get. Back.” Grif’s low command rumbled through her.
Her breathing hitched, her emotions swinging in the other direction. It wasn’t the male in danger. Ancients help her, her animal was the one about to die.
“Don’t hurt. Please.” Where had he gotten that weapon, anyway? Then she realized, he must have grabbed it off Sharluff. She’d strapped the weapon harness to her pet’s back for easy transport—and because she’d thought her prisoner’s hands were tied, hadn’t worried too much about it.
Now, she was worrying a lot.
Grif’s commanding gaze flickered from her to the sharp teeth at his throat and back again, the grip around his knife handle unwavering. “Step away.”
Her beast growled once more, responding to the aggression in the male’s voice, torn between obeying her and his own survival instincts.
“P-please. H-he listen to me. Won’t attack. L-let me call him off.”
Grif’s scowl deepened.
Her chest went tight. She knew what she was asking. It was one thing to curb his strength when he held all the control, but this was different. To give up his advantage would require true trust.
She should not even ask it of him. Not after her own hesitations. Not after all she had done since Sharluff knocked him down, letting pride, anger, and fear guide her actions rather than faith. He had every right to laugh in her face.
“Actions, Nayla.” His soft words jerked her from her thoughts, no trace of laughter in his gaze. “Sometimes they matter more the words.”
She didn’t understand until, gaze locked with hers, he retracted his hand, the sharp edge of his dagger lifting off Sharluff’s vulnerable throat.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. He was trusting her.
With renewed strength, she jerked on Sharluff’s feathered neck and wrenched him away. “Taneh doluf. Ahorte!” She didn’t hesitate, calling her beast to stand down with the firmest, most commanding tones she’d ever employed.
For a heartbeat, the stubborn, feathered beast remained still and her heart slammed inside her chest, her fear that she would not be able to prove worthy making her stomach contract.
Thankfully, the big brute gave a grunt and let her lead him away, his feathers ruffling with excitement as he bumped his side into her, his aggression forgotten as he accepted her command and settled back into his usual docile mode.
Grif rose slowly, his knife still high in his hand.