My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"Graeme," August said softly, looking now at his lips and drawing the edge out of his voice.

"Yes, my love," he became aware that their time was running out. Somehow he knew it like an instinct, like the smell of rain on the air with the approaching storm. It bled into his senses, causing his heart to go racing in protest.

"Wherever I am, I will whisper your name like a secret prayer," she said, drawing herself closer to him, a breath away as she curled one arm around his neck and with the other hand tugged lightly at his hair, running her hand up against the direction of its growth before weaving her fingers through and tugging lightly again, her breasts pressed against him, slippery with the water that managed to come between them when it seemed that nothing else could. Not even this. Not even a vampire.

"There is no distance that can take you from me," she continued, caressing the silence with the hypnotizing melody of her voice that was like no other voice, her face that was like no other face.

He felt her knees slip off of his thighs and fold themselves around his waist, bringing her even closer. Burning the shape of her body onto his skin. She was luring him into this fantasy that they would be okay, that she could be trusted to kill a vampire and return to him so they could live happily ever after—Moon Bun and all. Another fairytale.

Another fae tail.

His mate was fae. He had to remember this. She was powerful—her abilities would dwarf his. That is what Penelope said. If it were true, she could do this.

"I need you to believe in me," she breathed against his skin before allowing her cheek to run along his as she pulled back to tilt her gaze to him.

The flame of pride that he already had for her deep inside flared brighter in an instant as he gazed back into the blue of her storybook sky. She was going to do this. She was going to defeat Zagan. He stared in awe of this assurance that was coming from somewhere beyond himself.

Was she persuading him of this or was it something else? It felt larger—like the penetrating truth of the universe that was beyond time, assuring him of what had already come to be and would come to be again. She would succeed because she had already succeeded. He had already faced the loss of letting her go and had her again by his side.

He was the reader of their story who had skipped along to the last page and, being satisfied that all would be well, continued where he left off, trusting the intricate weft of words written by an invisible hand.

"I believe you," he answered softly against her, the awe shining in his eyes of how suddenly, openly true it was. His heart had been flayed and the entirety of their story tucked inside, the aching beauty of its wisdom pumping through him.

"I do too," she nodded, her forehead pressed against his as the sigh of relief at his agreement fell from her lips.

And then, as if they heard the whistle of an oncoming train calling to take her away, they joined lips, joined mouths, joined bodies, hands pulling at each other in one last desperate attempt to fully become one enough to not be physically parted.

Graeme tugged her hair as she had previously done to his, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. He groaned, bending to take her in his mouth, one hand in her hair and one gripping the soft flesh of her ass as he guided her down over his cock one more time before she left him.

She whimpered when he entered her, the sweet sound driving him further, harder home to her. He wanted more whimpers. He wanted to hear every reaction to how he made her feel. He wanted fucking screams.

"Fuck, Graeme," she cried, her body opening fully to him and exploding into sensation that sizzled down every nerve ending. "Yes, Graeme. Oh Goddess, yes!"

His own feral noises rumbled against her skin as he kept her neck in his mouth, gripping her there possessively. This female was his. This female would always be his. His arms wrapped her tightly against him in resistance to the thrusts that were jolting her body, threatening to send her away each time as he pulled her back and repeated the process, creating that pleasurable tease of parting and returning, slamming back into each other with such force of desire that it sent them apart again. An eternal return to the other. A slide of creation, piercing the threshold of being over and over again, pumping it with life.

"August," he groaned, finally releasing her from his teeth so he could pray her name to the sky. "You feel so good. Fuck, you feel so good."

She shifted her heels to rest on his hips, gasping the instant he returned to her at this angle. And then his mate moaned—the feral moan of an animal fully given over to the body with no reservations left in the mind. She had become her body, dipping to meet him again and again, breasts jolting, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open to allow those animalistic sounds to escape. She had become the act of mating, chasing and chasing that hill to its peak where they finally shattered together into starlight.

"Oh Goddess," August gasped as they rode the momentum together downhill. "All the goddesses. Praise them all," she chuckled, chest heaving as she gazed fondly at her mate whose eyes were still squeezed shut against the brightness that had flashed behind them.

She took the opportunity to catch him off guard and push him under the surface of the water, covering him with the force of its healing. When he came back up, he shook his head, throwing the wet hair off of his face and sending water droplets flying through the steam. He growled teasingly.

"Feel better?" she giggled at the fierce glint in his eyes.

"Oh you have no idea."