Page 35 of Simon

Her body went rigid, and I backed away.

“Y-you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. “You put a scent on me. That is what everyone was smelling the other morning.”

A low growl rumbled in my throat, making her gasp in surprise.

“Youwerein my tent.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy

“Didyoutouchme?”I hissed. “Did you touch me in… places?” Heat flooded my face, making my cheeks burn.

Simon’s face fell.

“Plaaces?”

Did I really want to know? Part of me did, but the other didn’t. Just because it would ruin how great that orgasm really was. My body was all for this; my mind wasn’t. I couldn’t entertain the idea that he’d touched me, otherwise, it would ruin what enjoyment I had.

Truthfully, I woke up with my hands between my thighs, knuckles deep inside of me. He wasn’t there.

He didn’t touch me there. It was a dream.

The scenting, though?

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How do you scent-mark me, Simon?”

Simon shuffled from hoof to hoof. “Lucy touch?” He extended his hand, palm up, fingers slightly splayed.

This Consent King was going to take me out. I could feel myself getting hot in places I shouldn’t.

Hoe Lucy needs to get a grip.

I nodded, and his fingers closed around my wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided my hand to the side of his neck. “It is strong there. Not covered with yellowcress root.”

I swallowed and pulled my hand away. That was how he stayed hidden, and no one could smell him very well.

Simon had watched me sleep and scented me. He didn’t touch me other than that, I concluded. He didn’t know better. I couldn’t have faulted him for any of that if he thought I was his mate, either.

That was just how things worked around here.

A brilliant burst of light danced across the vast expanse of the sky, illuminating the gray clouds that floated by. The crashing of thunder echoed in my ears, and I saw the downpour of rain in the distance. The dark, foreboding clouds loomed closer, casting an ominous shadow over the wood.

In one swoop, Simon scooped me up into his arms and trotted over to the side of the cliff where the thin path awaited. I buried my face in his chest, not daring to move so we wouldn’t plummet to our death. In seconds, it was over, and he’d placed me back on the rockier terrain.

“B-big storm. Get inside.”

Over the next several hours, Simon climbed up and down the cliff. The storm was settling in, and he said he was retrieving food and water. I didn’t dare go outside. I only had one set of clothes, and sitting in a cave, soaking wet was not on the agenda.

Especially when, technically, one of us was already naked. We didn’t need both of us running around with exposed privates. What if his body betrayed him; heck, what if mine betrayed me?

Why couldn’t he just put the skirt on?

This whole “can’t leave the cave, one bed, big storm, close proximity” trope was really working for him. My body was a tight wire, ready to snap.

Simon approached me while I sat on his bed, and he held out a plate full of grapes, cheese, and a roll of bread. Where was he getting this food? He obviously can’t make cheese. Where were the cows?

My eyes blinked several times. He doesn’t make milk, does he? I was not eating goat cheese he’d made himself, was I?

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