Page 75 of Lorran
“You know that is not true.” He licked his lips and growled at her.
She blushed pleasingly. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re flirting when you’re covered in blood and brains.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. She burst into laughter, which also pleased his greedy soul. He would do whatever he could to snatch these moments of joy and delight, even if it meant he had to make a fool of himself.
“They are signs of our triumph. I am a good provider and mated to a mighty hunter,” he said.
“So good you brought enough for the entire village.”
“Well, I did not claim to be a humble male.”
More laughter.
Inside their room, they stripped their filthy garments at the door. Wyn pushed him into the shower stall. Tepid water sluiced away the worst of the gore from them both.
Wet hair plastered against her forehead, Wyn inspected his arm. The lacerations from the beast’s claws had already knitted closed. “I heal quickly,” he said.
“This isn’t quick. This is inhuman.” She poked the pale marks, and he held back a hiss. She raised a brow.
“First, I am not human, and second, it is closed but still hurts.”
“We didn’t have a chance to clean your cuts. What if you picked up some weird intergalactic virus or parasite?” She took a handful of liquid soap and an abrasive cloth and scrubbed his skin.
“Unlikely. My immune system would eradicate a simple virus or parasite.”
She scrubbed his arm a bit harder. “Well, if your ego could fight off viruses, I know you’d never get sick.”
Mahdfel did not get sick, but he kept that comment to himself. He allowed her to continue scrubbing with more force than necessary until his skin felt raw. She worked the soap into his hair and then along his horns.
That…stirred him. He lowered his head, leaning into the smooth strokes of his mate’s hand, imagining those strokes gliding along his cock.
Right. Enough.
“My turn,” he said, grabbing the rough cloth and tossing it out of the stall. Using a generous amount of soap, he lathered every part of his mate. His hands appreciated her softness, the supple give of her skin, and the way her breath hitched in her throat.
He pushed her back to the tile wall and spread her feet apart. He crouched, letting the water from the shower drum against his face and blind him. As much as his mate was a visual delight, she was best appreciated by touch.
He lathered the gentle curve of her belly and the roundness of her hips. At the juncture of her thighs, he caught the scent of musk and earth, nearly overshadowed by the antiseptic soap. He marveled at the softness in her thighs and the hard muscle in her calves.
She gasped and giggled nervously when he caressed the back of her knees. She melted as he reached around, pulling her against him, and gave the same attention to her posterior.
That ass was made for a warrior, lush and sweet. He squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh.
“You’re playing dirty,” Wyn moaned.
“Not yet.” He planned to do more than touch his mate. He wanted to taste, to revel in her unique flavor.
“Hold on to the bar. Do not slip,” he said, placing her hand on the safety railing. He spread her legs wider and pressed his mouth to the tender inner flesh of her thighs.
She sighed, and her posture relaxed.
The curls here were damp from water. The clean scent of the soap nearly obscured the scent of her arousal, but he breathed in deeply, savoring the musky, earthen aroma.
Her taste bloomed on his tongue, as lovely and satisfying as ever. His mate. He took pride in knowing this was the only female whose flavor he would know, and he was the last male who would ever experience her delights.
His mate. So responsive, moaning and arching her back as he nipped and sucked. His cock ached, dripping with need. He wanted to take her, to pin her to the wall and thrust hard into her, again and again. Distantly, he remembered that his shoulder prevented this. He growled with frustration.
Wyn gasped, her hand clutching at his horn. “What was that?”
