Page 53 of Feral Gods
"We shouldn't," she whispers halfheartedly as my mouth moves to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "Ravik and Zephyr are just in the next room."
"They know," I murmur against her skin, inhaling her intoxicating scent. "They hear. They understand."
As if to confirm my words, the sounds of activity from the rear of the lodge fade, followed by the distinct creak of the back door opening and closing. Ravik and Zephyr have granted us privacy—temporary but deliberate.
Kaia's expression shifts from momentary embarrassment to determination. "They're giving us space."
"Yes," I confirm, watching her process this information—the complex dynamics between three gargoyles who share protective duties, territorial instincts, and now, apparently, their most precious ward.
Instead of further hesitation, she surprises me by taking my face between her small hands, her gaze direct and unflinching. "Then let's not waste it."
The simple declaration ignites fresh heat within me. I stand, lifting her effortlessly, and carry her to the crude pallet I've claimed as sleeping space. Unlike the temple's stone chambers, the hunting lodge offers some basic comforts—including stuffed mattresses of dried grasses covered with furs salvaged from our flight.
I lay her gently on the furs, pausing to appreciate the sight of her against the dark pelts—hair spread like ink, eyes bright with anticipation, body relaxed yet alert. For a moment, I'm struck by the contrast between this moment and my earlier battle—the same primal energy channeled toward creation rather than destruction, pleasure rather than pain.
"You're staring," she observes, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into her expression.
"Appreciating," I correct, settling beside her on the pallet. "You are beautiful, Kaia. Not fragile or delicate like dark elf aesthetics prefer, but strong. Resilient. Perfect."
The praise brings fresh color to her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she reaches for me, small hands exploring the massive expanse of my chest with evident fascination. "So are you, in your way. Powerful. Unyielding. Yet capable of gentleness I wouldn't have expected."
Her fingers trace the freshly treated wound across my ribs, then move lower, following the pattern of stone-like plates that protect my abdomen. When they reach the edge of the simple kilt I wear, she hesitates, glancing up with a silent question.
"Don't stop," I encourage, voice rough with building desire. "I would know your touch everywhere."
Permission granted, she continues her exploration, slipping beneath the fabric to discover my growing arousal. Her eyeswiden slightly at the size and texture—different from human males, certainly, and apparently different from Ravik as well, judging by her expression of surprised discovery.
"Every gargoyle is unique," I explain, watching her reaction carefully. "Our transformations preserved certain... individualities."
A smile curves her lips as her fingers wrap experimentally around my length. "Fascinating. Does this mean I get three entirely different experiences?"
The unexpectedly playful question startles a laugh from me. "Trust a human to find the practical advantage in any situation."
"Survival skill," she agrees, her touch growing more confident as she learns what brings greatest pleasure. "Finding benefit in circumstances beyond my control."
I allow her exploration for several moments, enjoying her curious ministrations before capturing her wrist gently. "Enough, or this will end before it truly begins. Let me touch you now."
She releases me willingly, lying back against the furs in open invitation. I lean over her, careful to support my much greater weight on my forearms as I claim her mouth once more. The kiss deepens quickly, her responsiveness feeding my growing hunger. My hands move to the hem of her tunic, seeking permission with a questioning pause.
"Yes," she breathes against my lips. "Please."
I remove the garment with careful efficiency, revealing the simple breast band beneath. This too I unwrap, exposing her fully to my appreciative gaze. Her breasts are perfect—not overlarge but beautifully proportioned to her frame, tipped with dusky rose peaks that tighten under my scrutiny.
"Exquisite," I murmur, lowering my head to taste one tempting peak.
She gasps, arching into the contact, hands coming up to clutch at my shoulders. I lavish attention on first one breast then the other, learning through her responses what brings greatest pleasure. When I suckle particularly firmly on one sensitive nipple, she cries out, the sound sending fresh heat coursing through my veins.
"More," she urges, fingers digging into my stone-like skin with surprising strength. "Please, Thane."
The sound of my name on her lips during pleasure nearly undoes my careful control. I move lower, trailing kisses down the gentle curve of her stomach to the waistband of her leggings. These I remove with the same deliberate care, leaving her clad only in simple undergarments that do little to conceal her readiness.
"These too?" I ask, fingering the thin fabric.
"Everything," she confirms, lifting her hips to assist their removal.
When she lies completely bare before me, I take a moment to simply admire—the graceful lines of her body, the subtle curves, the evidence of her desire glistening at the apex of her thighs. Unlike Ravik, whose possessive nature demands claiming, I find myself wanting to worship, to demonstrate through physical devotion what I lack words to express.
I begin at her ankles, pressing kisses along the delicate bones, working my way up her calves to the sensitive skin behind her knees. She shivers beneath my attentions, small sounds of pleasure escaping her lips as I continue my journey upward, tasting the soft skin of her inner thighs.
