Mated to the Warrior Beast

When Skhal first pulled away, adrenaline flooded Jayah—was he leaving? Had something happened that she didn’t understand?

But Skhal took her hand and drew her forward as he walked back—to a simple space at the back of the cave where he’d spread furs and rested his bag. His resources in case he was stuck there for days.

Heart racing, Jayah bit her lip as he drew her towards them and his eyes dropped to her mouth, light and heat blazing in them until she almost laughed with the sheer delight of it all. But her mirth faded quickly when he’d drawn her to the furs so that she stood at their edge. And then he knelt, still holding her hand, but down on one knee and staring up at her, a smile on his face that beamed like the sun. He pulled her hand to his chest and flattened it there, holding her to him, his pulse hammering under her palm.

The healer in her flashed with worry—his heart pounded so!—but the part of her that was purely female fluttered with the joy of it, the sense of power she held to impact him so deeply.

“Jayah,” he rasped, “You’re a gift to me from the Creator. One I didn’t think I’d ever receive. I am… I am a male of little, but what I have is yours. I am a hunter and a fighter—I offer all of that at your call. Your enemies are my enemies. Your people are my people. And my strength is yours. Where you face danger I will stand in the gap and give myself for you. Always. Always. Every day. Every moment. I am… humbled to have you.” He trailed off, clearing his throat, his eyes beginning to shine.

Jayah gave a little gasp and stepped closer to cup his precious face—how was it possible that she’d never known him, and now, as her blood fizzed and her body hummed, he had become the treasure she’d always wanted. His very breath precious?

And yet, he placed himself below her. It felt wrong to her, so with a tiny sob, she knelt on the furs as well, pressing herself close to him, one hand still on his chest, feeling his heart, but the other cupped at his neck, holding him to her.

“I have little as well,” she whispered with a nervous laugh. “But what I have is yours. I am yours—I don’t know how that can be, but I’m here, Skhal. And I… give myself. I’m a healer… Your wounds are my wounds. Your hurts are my hurts. Where it’s in my power, I will heal you, soothe your pain. And… and where you’re in danger, I will stand for you. Stand to protect you. Stand for you in the face of others. We are… we are one. I will refute anyone who would say otherwise.”

.....

A tiny whine broke in his throat and he let go of her hand to pull her closer. Jayah’s heart flooded with joy and thrill as their lips touched.

It seemed like her entire skin thrummed with joy. He kissed her so gently, so softly, at first his breath fluttered more heavily against her lips than his kiss had.

‘My mate,’ he sighed in her head.

‘My mate,’ she replied, clinging to his shoulders as he groaned and his grip on her tightened. Then he descended on her, that soft-sweet kiss deep and searing.

He held the back of her head, pressing her back into his hand—his kiss branding her, his tongue teasing and searching and Jayah, her body aflame, taking his kiss and offering it back with every ounce of the heat that he brought.

She’d lain in the arms of a male several times, enjoyed kisses and strokes. She knew what was to come and knew she would enjoy it. Her mate drew her body in a way no male ever had before. Apart from her young years, when curiosity drove exploration, she’d rarely felt desire for a male. And where she’d given in to lust, especially in later years, she’d always walked away feeling hollow in the aftermath, as if something important were missing.

She’d assumed there was something wrong with her. That the Creator hadn’t made her for this kind of love. Because as she devoted herself to the service of healing and especially through the wars and care of the Royals, she hadn’t missed it. Hadn’t ever felt that she was lacking for not having a male in her life.

But as Skhal murmured her name and trailed his fingers up the back of her thigh, her entire body quivered. Her skin seemed to lift towards his touch. She thrilled in a way she never had before, and her heart… her heart spun out of control.

He took minutes to undress her, both of them fumbling with each other’s clothing, laughing softly into their kisses when her leathers didn’t want to slide down her thighs, or she struggled with the button on his shirt.

At some point they’d stopped kissing and instead watched each other. It stole her breath when Skhal, finally having finished with the buttons of her linen shirt, used his fingers to draw it open and she watched his eyes widen and light up as her breasts were revealed.

His breath rushed out of him, and he murmured her name, reaching to cup her and take the weight of them, his roughened hands and calloused thumbs sending fizzing jolts of pleasure through her when he stroked her nipples.

They still knelt and he stared down at her with delight, his full lips pulled to a smile, his chest rising and falling quickly.

She’d already opened his shirt, but as he continued to stroke and tease, she reached for it to push it back and off his shoulders, baring the flat planes of his chest with a bare smattering of hair. And then, on a whim, she leaned down to tease his nipple with her tongue.

The noise that broke in her mate’s throat then was very, very gratifying.