Stolen by the Wolves (Viking Omegaverse #1) by Lyx Robinson

Author:Lyx Robinson [Robinson, Lyx]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THRAIN

Last Quarter of the Waning Moon of May, “Hunter’s Moon”

She tastes of wine. Rich, red, dripping. The roundness of her lower lip guides my tongue, invites my teeth. I bite down upon it, open her mouth, penetrate it.

It is all a blackness of breath and desperate desire. It sucks me in like the horizon at night, like the deep black sea.

She is so vast. Her hunger is all around me, her body all I can touch. My fingers glide down her neck, into her hair, cup the curve of her skull.

Like woodsmoke, her heat grows stronger and more suffocating still as I breathe upon her, enrage the fire inside her. Like woodsmoke, it draws out the wildling in me just as surely as the sight of blood might.

She wants to be mated. I can see nothing else than that invitation, that darkness, the sweet-smelling smoke that curls within it and lures me by the nose.

Catching her waist, I lift her up and sit her on the altar amidst the many lit candles. Her thighs open around my hips, her whimper ringing in my ear as I wedge myself between them.

When I kiss her again, she winds her arms around my neck and sinks her hands into my hair, pulling me further against her. Her body fits against mine so perfectly. We both belong in this unity, her hands in my hair, my mouth joined with hers.

There is so much of her to feel. Her soft cheek, peach fuzz against my fingertips. Her hair, guiding me down in twisting turns, swallowing my fingers until they’re lost in a curling lamb-soft labyrinth. Her neck.

Her neck.

My mouth opens against it. Here, her scent grows prickly, sharper, more defined. More her. I touch my tongue there, trail down that long white track, taste it, taste her. Plant my teeth in a shallow ridge so I might swallow more of it.

Mine. She’s mine. She’s mine.

The claim rumbles in my throat as I bite harder, pull her closer. The low growl vibrates in my chest and in hers too, surely, she’s all but part of me now – her legs wound around mine, her arms attached to my back like ivy.

She moves, pushes. Detaches. Her voice is as a susurrus of water sliding between us.

“Monk.”

No, she can’t break this, can’t break away from me. We’ll both fall apart. We’ll both break to pieces if the light finds us outside of each other, outside of the darkness.

I cling; she pushes harder.

“Monk, please.”

I blink.

The growl ceases. My throat and chest are oddly empty without it. Too wide. Cavernous.

Her moss-green eyes are on my face, pupils blown wide. Her mouth is swollen, puffy, half-open. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she separate from me? Why…

Oh.

Oh, Loki’s cock.

I was kissing her.

I’m standing between her thighs, holding her face, my forehead tipped against hers. Kissing her. Touching her in ways that are far removed from what’s appropriate.

“You growled,” she murmurs. “Are you… are you cursed?”

She clings to me, so supple and warm in my arms.

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