The sharp, cool point of his claw rested against the denim, just above the frantic pulse of her need. Anna guided his wrist, her own hand trembling, pressing the lethal tip down. The button popped, the sound obscenely loud in the silent hall. The zipper gave way beneath that impossible edge, and the first rush of cool air against her wet skin made her gasp. His low growl vibrated through her bones as the fabric parted, revealing her to the dust-moted light and his amber gaze.
He didn’t move. His claw-tipped hand remained where she’d placed it, a silent question in the stillness. Anna looked down. The dark triangle of her panties was soaked through, the fabric clinging, transparent. A flush of heat climbed from her chest to her throat, but she didn’t look away. She let him see. The proof of her want, slick and undeniable, offered up in the open air.
Rein’s nostrils flared. The low rumble in his chest deepened into something possessive, something hungry. He leaned in, his muzzle brushing the hollow of her throat where she’d offered herself moments before. He inhaled there, a long, deliberate draw of breath that made her knees weaken. His scent—ozone and earth and wild musk—wrapped around her, and she understood. He was tasting her fearlessness. He was drinking her surrender.
“Please,” she whispered, the word cracking. It wasn’t a request for mercy. It was a demand for more.
His other hand came up, the broad pad of his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Then he hooked that single, wicked claw into the lace at her hip. The sound of the fabric tearing was soft, final. The ruined silk fell away. Cool air kissed her bare skin, and then his hot breath replaced it, washing over her.
He looked up at her, his amber eyes holding hers. The intelligence there was ancient, patient. He was giving her this last moment to understand. To see the beast who would now taste his mate. Anna held his gaze, her storm-gray eyes wide, her breath coming in shallow pants. She gave one slow, deliberate nod. Her consent. Her claim on him, as much as his on her.
Rein lowered his muzzle, his hot breath a second skin against her. His tongue, broad and rough, dragged a slow, wet stripe up her center. Anna cried out, a sharp, broken sound that echoed off the dusty walls. The sensation was electric, primal—a direct circuit from her cunt to her spine. He tasted her deeply, inhaling her scent as he lapped at her, his low growl vibrating against her sensitive flesh.
Her hands flew to his head, fingers sinking into the thick, silken fur at the base of his skull. She held on, her knees buckling. He didn’t let her fall. One massive arm banded around her hips, lifting her slightly, opening her further to his mouth. He feasted. His tongue circled her clit, firm and relentless, before plunging deep inside her, fucking her with slow, thorough strokes. The wet, obscene sounds filled the silent hallway, louder than her ragged gasps.
“Rein—” His name was a plea, a prayer. Her hips rocked against his mouth, seeking more, seeking everything. The coil in her belly tightened, a fierce, gathering storm. He read her body like a map written in her trembling and her taste. He suckled at her clit, the pressure perfect, devastating, and her back arched off the wall. The orgasm ripped through her, sudden and violent. She screamed, her vision whiting out at the edges, her entire body convulsing against his hold.
He didn’t stop. He drank her down, lapping at her pulsing flesh as the waves crested and began to ebb, then built them again with the persistent, knowing rhythm of his tongue. Anna sobbed, oversensitive, her nerves alight. “Too much—I can’t—” But her body betrayed her, climbing again, her inner muscles fluttering around the thick intrusion of his tongue.
He pulled back only when she was trembling and boneless, a string of her release connecting his muzzle to her glistening skin. He looked up at her, his amber eyes glowing in the dim light. Her taste was wet on his fur. His chest rumbled with a sound of pure, dark satisfaction. He hadn’t spoken a word. He hadn’t needed to. The claim was in her scent on him, in the wrecked, yielding way she hung in his arms, utterly his.
Rein’s muzzle nudged against the soft skin of her lower stomach, a deliberate, slow rub. His fur was warm, his breath hotter still, as he dragged his scent across her trembling flesh. Anna gasped, her fingers tightening in the fur at his neck. It was a claiming, silent and absolute—marking her as his territory, his mate, in the most primal way he knew.
He lingered there, his nostrils flaring against her skin, inhaling the mingled scent of her sweat and her release and now, him. The low, continuous rumble in his chest was a possessive song. She felt it vibrate through her belly, a physical echo of the pleasure still sparking along her oversensitive nerves.
“You taste like home,” he rumbled, the words so low and rough they seemed to form in her own bones. It was the first thing he’d spoken since she’d guided his claw. The sound of his voice, raw and thick with her taste, made her cunt clench around nothing, a fresh, aching emptiness.
Anna looked down, her vision blurred. His amber eyes were watching her, glowing with a heat that had nothing to do with the moonlight. Her own scent was a dark, wet stain on the fur around his mouth. The sight of it—the visual proof of what he’d done to her, what she’d given him—sent a new, sharp bolt of need straight to her core.
She slid her hands from his neck to cradle his jaw, her thumbs stroking the silken fur of his cheeks. “Yours,” she whispered, the word a vow, an answer to his silent marking. “All yours, Rein.”
His growl deepened. He turned his head, catching the pad of her thumb between his teeth. Not a bite, but a hold. A promise. His tongue swept over her skin, tasting her again, before he released her and leaned back, his gaze never leaving hers. He was waiting. The air between them crackled with the unasked question, the next threshold. Her body was open, wet, and utterly his for the taking.