Mated to the Warrior Beast

207 Just This Moment*

~ TARKYN ~

“Oh, Tarkyn—” Harth whispered, staring at him wide-eyed, pain and joy braided together in her gaze.

“It’s only the truth, Harth. I can’t…” He was forced to clear his throat. “I didn’t think I could face this day. I… I questioned the Creator because it might part us. But I see now… I see and I will do it. Because I understand that… that there has always been a plan, and this has always been part of it. I don’t know where we’ll be tonight my love, and that terrifies me. Yet I have to submit to His plan, Harth. I must—it’s what I was made to do. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Tarkyn… I do. I…” Her face crumpled, but he caught her chin, staring fiercely into her eyes.

“I must submit,” he growled, “and I will. No matter what we may face. My purpose is and always has been clear and I was at peace… I would be at peace about all of it, except for you.”

Her forehead furrowed and she pulled her head back, confusion entering her gaze. “What—?”

“Indulge me, Love,” he whispered. “Please. I do battle with my own soul today, because I fear losing you. So, please… mercy… give me these moments, Harth. Let me show you how I love you.”

Tears, already trembling on her lashes, spilled over and she threw herself into his chest. “Yes, Tarkyn. Of course. I… yes.”

Then, with a groan of relief and of torment, he tipped up her chin and took her mouth and fell into her headlong.

.....

They both sucked in deep breaths, then stopped breathing completely.

From the first moment their lips touched, he was swept away into the silk of her hair, the soft pillows of her lips, the heat of her breath, her skin, her heart.

With trembling hands they undressed each other silently, but with hurried breaths, and he was consumed.

Then, when his beautiful mate finally stood bare in the circle of his arms, he groaned and descended on her.

Open mouths, grasping hands, bodies alight, they sought each other and every other thought was pushed from his mind. Except her.

Every taste of her skin was sweet as honey straight from the comb.

Every stroke and claw of her hands on his skin, as welcome and delicious as the Winter Festival feast.

Every breath that fluttered over his cheek and in the air was as precious and treasured as the touch of a rare butterfly and left him washed in joy.

Every kiss she gave landed directly on the raw, beating heart in his chest that slammed, threatening to break his ribs. And yet, echoed painlessly.

Then, when neither of them could wait longer, when they found each other in truth and Harth cried out as he possessed her, his senses were assaulted by the choir of his soul as it poured out in song.

Harth, his beautiful Harth—her skin pebbled and rising to his touch. His own shivering with his need.

More.

Her mouth, plump and red, lips trembling, the velvet warmth that spoke to him and called him and could end him… but didn’t.

More.

Her eyes shining pools, washing him in love until he brimmed with it, it saturated him, spilling out of him with every touch, and back to her.

More.

More. More. More.

“Harth… my love…”

Mouth open and hovering against his, she gave a small sob as he pressed into her, against her, within her—demanding, pleading—he took her again. Her hands drew up his back leaving trails to sear his skin like heated coals. He should be burned alive, and he was, but the heat that took him was born from within.

It could not be doused.

“Tarkyn…”

And as they continued to move together, the beast within him groaning, aching for release, hers calling… the rest of the world melted away. They were leaves in a warm wind. They were waves in the summer sea. They were a symphony on the air—melody and harmony, rising in perfect unison.

The mating call breaking in his throat, Tarkyn grasped at her, holding her to him, unable to find words but only to let his body speak.

And in the perfect clarity of that, Tarkyn opened his mind to her and he was lost. Utterly lost.

They were one. Two bodies fed by one pulse. Two consciousnesses owned by one soul.

Their hearts beat in time, bodies united and undulating together, souls entwined as surely as their limbs.

They were not he and she, not Tarkyn and Harth, they were not a pair… they were Mated. Standing as one in the light of the Creator’s eyes.

“Holy… Harth… do you feel that?” his voice graveled, his breath gulping, his lips brushing hers as he struggled to find the words.

“Yes!”

He moaned her name and gave over, no longer sure where he ended and she began—no longer certain if he touched or was touched, prickled or was sought.

Her, here, with him in this moment—the melding of mind, body and soul… This was the best of him, of this life.

Loving her. Knowing her. Being united with her…

It was everything he’d ever dreamed or prayed to possess.

As her head fell back and he tasted her throat again, she pulled him to her and they moved together again, he thanked the Creator for her. For this purpose. For this clarity.

For this. For her. The rest was worth it.

And as she cried out, her body trembling, tightening, as they tumbled together over that final crest, their bodies peaking as one, Tarkyn couldn’t untangle his own pleasure from hers. They were whipped and turned, tumbled and joined.

He curled himself over her, arms around her, face in her neck, his body to cushion her, her shield.

He would give himself. To the end, he would put himself between her and… anything.

That was his purpose. That was the fate he would accept. The plan to which he submitted.

Within himself he dropped his head and rolled his shoulders in the posture of submission, and he prayed.

Whatever came… whatever the Creator chose… he, Tarkyn, would walk into danger—any danger—because it meant she would walk out.

And finally his heart was at peace.