Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
But as he lay beside her in the soft darkness of his new home, with her sweet scent all around him and the warmth of her body only inches away, a more troubling thought began to creep into his mind.
His first mate.
The memory of her had been so dim for so long—faded and worn thin by grief and by the slow, terrible drift into mindlessness. But now that Kiera’s touch was bringing him back, other things were returning too. Not just words and thoughts and reason, but emotion. Sentient emotion. Complicated feelings that hurt far more than the simple sorrow and loss he had felt in his more animal state.
Guilt was chief among them.
The Goddess usually only granted one mate to a Lykan. One true female to tether his soul and call him back from the void. One to share his life and his body and his Bond with. That was the way it had always been among his people.
And he had already had that blessing once.
His chest tightened with pain as he thought of the woman he had lost. He could not picture her face clearly—not yet. The details still slipped away when he tried to hold them. But he remembered her laughter…soft and low. He remembered the way she used to put her arms around his neck and press her cheek to his fur. He remembered the scent of her skin, the warmth of her body against his, the certainty that she was his and he was hers.
And then he remembered the blood…the screams…the Darklings.
Then a tearing loss so profound that it had ripped the sense from his mind and sent him tumbling into the long, slow void where all thought became instinct and all feeling became hunger or fear or pain.
He had not fought it—not truly—he had let himself go.
What was the point of holding onto sentience when his mate was gone? What was the point of keeping his bipedal form when there was no female to Bond with—no one to steady his mind and tether his soul?
That was how Lykans were made. They needed the touch of their mate to hold onto themselves. Without it, the void waited. The darkness came creeping in at the edges first, stealing memory and language and reason until all that was left was the primal mind.
And yet now…now Kiera had found him. Or perhaps the Goddess had sent her?
Brux did not know what to think of that. He only knew that every time she touched him, his thoughts grew clearer.
Every time she spoke to him, he understood more. Every stroke of her fingers through his fur, every warm press of her hand on his head or around his neck, every kind word she murmured to him in that soft, soothing voice–all of it called him back from the edge.
His new mate was restoring him–she was saving him.
And he was falling in love with her.
The realization ought to have struck him like a blow. It ought to have filled him with shame and grief and confusion–he shouldn’t allow himself to love again after his first mate had been lost.
Instead, this new emotion filled him with a fierce, aching tenderness that made his heart fist in his chest.
He loved her.
He had only just found her and already he loved her with everything in him.
She smelled too good—too right—for him not to. Her scent wrapped around him like a promise. Like home. It was sweet and womanly and warm, with little traces of the soap she had used in the bathing pool and the clean scent of the home-dome, as she called it, and underneath it all, the rich, soft smell that was simply Kiera.
His mate…or one who could be.
No, a guilty voice whispered inside him. You already had your mate. The Goddess does not grant two.
Brux shut his eyes tightly, as though he could squeeze the thought away.
He did not want to think about guilt. Not now. Not while she was lying beside him, warm and breathing softly in the darkness. Not while the living mattress cradled them both and the thick coverlet held the heat around them. Not while every instinct in him cried out to get closer to her.
He only wanted to be near her…only that.
For now.
Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her, he rose onto his paws and nosed at the edge of the coverlet. It lifted a little with the motion of his muzzle, enough for him to nudge his way beneath it.
At once, warmth enveloped him.
Not just the trapped heat under the covers, though that was nice after the chill of the evening air and the long bath, but her warmth. Her body heat…her scent, stronger here in their little nest, surrounding him until he felt almost drunk on it.
Gods, she smelled so good–so right.
He crept closer, inch by inch, until he could press himself along the curve of her back. She was lying on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow, her braids spread across it in dark, neat ropes. The oversized shirt she wore had ridden up a little, exposing one lush brown thigh and the sweet curve of her hip.