Page 49 of Xara and the Xenobeast

The admission broke something in him—the last barrier holding back the flood. With a growl, he captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply as his hand slid between them, finding the slick heat at the apex of her thighs.

She gasped into his mouth as he touched her, her body arching into his hand. He explored her carefully, learning what made her breath catch, what made her moan. Each sound she made was a victory, a treasure.

His tendrils wrapped more securely around her thighs, holding her open for his exploration. She didn’t fight the restraint but surrendered to it, her trust in him a gift he’d never expected to receive.

“Please,” she begged, her hips rocking against his hand. “I need you. Now.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing to meet her gaze one last time. The beast inside him clawed for release, demanded he take, claim, possess. But the man he was becoming—the one she saw beneath the monster—needed to be sure.

“Yes,” she answered his unspoken question, her hands coming up to frame his face. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

He pushed forward slowly, watching her face for any sign of pain or fear. Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as he filled her. He stilled once fully seated, giving her time to adjust to his size, fighting the urge to move, to claim.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. “Move,” she commanded softly. “Please.”

He obeyed, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in with a controlled thrust that made her gasp. He set a measured pace, each stroke deep and deliberate, watching her face for signs of discomfort.

Instead, he saw only pleasure. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, small sounds of approval escaping with each thrust. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper.

His tendrils caressed every inch of her they could reach—her throat, her breasts, the sensitive skin behind her knees. She writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by the multiple points of contact.

“More,” she demanded, her nails scoring lines down his back. “Harder.”

The beast inside him surged at her words. His pace increased, his thrusts becoming more powerful. The careful control he’d maintained began to slip.

“Yes,” she encouraged, meeting each thrust with an arch of her hips. “Like that. Don’t hold back.”

But he had to. Even lost in pleasure, even with her urging him on, he couldn’t forget what he was—what they’d made him to be. He maintained that last thread of restraint, afraid of the consequences if he let go completely.

She sensed his hesitation. Her hands came up to frame his face again, forcing him to look at her. “I trust you,” she said, her voice steady despite the pleasure coursing through her body. “I’m not fragile. I won’t break.”

Her words shattered the final barrier. With a growl that was almost a roar, he gave in to the primal need that had been building since the moment he first saw her. His thrusts became harder, deeper, his tendrils tightening around her limbs, securing her beneath him as he claimed her.

She cried out, but it wasn’t in pain—it was in ecstasy. Her body tightened around him, inner walls clenching as she found her release. The sight of her coming undone beneath him, because of him, pushed him over the edge.

His climax hit him like a supernova, whiting out his vision and sending shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve ending. His tendrils tightened around her reflexively, holding her close as he spilled himself deep inside her.

For several heartbeats, neither moved. He remained braced above her, afraid to collapse his full weight onto her smallerframe. His tendrils slowly loosened their grip, sliding over her skin in soothing caresses.

She looked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes bright with satisfaction and something deeper. Something that made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

“See?” she murmured, a smile curving her lips. “I’m still in one piece.”

He let out a sound that might have been a laugh—rusty and unpracticed, but genuine. Carefully, he shifted to the side, bringing her with him so she was tucked against his chest, their legs still tangled together.

His tendrils continued to stroke her skin, unable to stop touching her now that he’d started. She sighed contentedly, nestling closer.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” she whispered against his chest.

He tightened his arms around her, overwhelmed by the trust she placed in him. No one had ever looked at him and seen anything but a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded. No one until her.

“Xara,” he said again, just to feel her name on his tongue.

She lifted her head, looking up at him with soft eyes. “You have a beautiful voice,” she told him. “Will you tell me your name someday?”

He tensed slightly. His name had been taken from him so long ago, stripped away along with his identity, his purpose. But perhaps it was time to reclaim it—to become more than the monster they’d tried to make him.

“Ash,” he said after a moment, the syllables strange and familiar all at once. “My name was Ash.”

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