She stood on her tiptoes when their lips met, her relief palpable.
Logan broke away with a troubled expression. “Though… there’s a bit of a stipulation.”
Gretchen offered him a deadpanned look.
“How do you feel about- body paint?”
* * *
Despite Logan’s assurance,there would indeed be a crowd.
He had insisted she still got the human treatment of a bride-to-be. After a day being pampered, she was dolled up in a fine crème dress, her blonde hair teased into loose curls that cascaded over her shoulders.
Logan waited to receive her in a sleek black suit for the occasion, his beautiful hair fastened into a ponytail behind his head. The crowd gathered around as her car pulled up on the green in the middle of the forest, where several bonfires crackled. Most of the faces were unfamiliar to Gretchen but there were a few who stood out. Her focus, however, was entirely on Logan.
He opened the door and offered a hand. “Are you ready?”
Everyone hushed as she exited, Hailey issued a little wave from the edge of the gathered guests. There was strange music playing. She couldn’t quite place the instruments, but it soothed her nerves. Her voice was a whisper as she leaned into him. “You never told me what this ceremony entailed.”
“You’ll see,” was all he offered. Was he blushing?
The celebrants parted for them, and she noticed a tent had been erected in the center of the clearing. It was made of dark leather and strange marks were painted on its surface. In front of it sat the largest bonfire that spit sparks into the night sky.
A weathered elder broke from the crowd, black markings on her cheeks and forehead. She wore loose, bright clothes, a patchwork of every color. And she held a bowl in her hands, which was filled with an inky substance.
When Gretchen and Logan approached, she beckoned them closer. “Lay witness to this union-” She dipped a gnarled thumb in the black stuff and motioned for them to yield to her short stature. “-and let us celebrate the growth of our clan!” Logan dipped down to grant the elder access, where she placed a smudge of the stuff between his brows. She did the same to Gretchen with a wrinkled smile.
When it was done, the crowd cheered anew.
The elder made way for them to enter the tent and handed Logan the bowl, murmuring. “Do us proud, boy.” Gretchen’s ears burned as she realized what the tent was for, but she couldn’t ask before they were led inside and the flaps sealed behind them.
Logan knelt on heavy furs that blanketed the space and pulled her in by the waist. “Like I said, just you and me.”
She landed on his lap, breathless. “But- they’re right outside-”
“Don’t worry.” Logan caught the zipper of her dress and drew it down her back. “I want you to enjoy this.”
Gretchen caught his shoulders, uncertainty mounted as he kissed her throat. “We’ll have to be quiet. I don’t want them to hear us.”
He chuckled against the flesh of her shoulder. “That’s not the point of witnesses.”
“So- the tent…”
“It’s new,” he said, kissing lower as he tugged her dress to her waist. “You know, a privacy screen for the twenty-first century.” He met her gaze and his eyes simmered. “They used to perform the ceremony right out in the open.”
‘Relief’ wasn’t quite the word, but it was close. “I guess I’m glad it’s the twenty-first century then.” She held her breath as he dipped the first two fingers of each hand in the ink and traced down her front, spiraling around her tight nipples, and over the gentle curve of her ribs. Frisson passed through her when he reached the slight swell of her stomach. “What is this?”
“My marks,” he said. “-as you will mark me with yours.”
“But I don’t have any-”
He silenced her with a kiss, his warm lips evoked her deep passions. In a move that surprised them both, she knocked him over and tore open his suit. The heat of him was overwhelming, his sharp, chiseled abs a blank canvas in contrast to her.
Logan traced his marks over her hips as she dipped her fingers into the paste, set aflame by whatever shifter magic the ceremony had imposed on her. And she knew what to do, drawing four lines down his strong neck and crested the curves of his collarbones before driving them down in great, sharp talons over his stomach.
He was hardening beneath her, their fine clothes obstructing their union.
Gretchen wouldn’t abide, levering up only enough to throw off the garments before finding his cock hot and solid between her legs. She was already wet for him and tried to focus on making her marks even as his tip teased her swollen clit.