Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

LERRIN

Breath shallow and mouth dry, Lerrin waited next to the fire like a hunted animal, every hair, every sense, tuned to finding her. When she finally materialized, it was only at the edge of where the fire's light flickered over the grasses. He caught movement first and snapped his head around when a shadow flickered in his peripheral vision. And she was there, standing in the grasses, staring at him.

Her eyes reflected the fire's warm light, giving them a wild edge. But her hair was down and her body… she'd changed clothes. She was in one of the long, thin tunics she had worn to bed when they lived in the tent at the encampment. In the moonlight and the soft breeze, it fluttered around her like the finest silk. But sleeveless and only a single layer intended for comfort, not protection, there could be no real warmth from it, it was far to thin.

Then the lazy winter breeze pressed the cotton against her from knee to chest and his eyes picked out her nipples, peaked and hard beneath the thin fabric. He would have gambled his freedom that her entire skin was pebbled in goosebumps from the cold.

"Suhle, what—"

He leaped to his feet, but instead of speaking, she sent to him.

Bank the fire and follow me.

He froze. Her eyes were wider than usual, and her posture tense—but not with fear. At least, not only that.

Then she licked her lips and Lerrin's stomach clenched with desire.

He became a whirlwind, stifling the flames and banking the embers of the fire, clearing any dry grasses around it and ensuring it would be safe untended, then turning to find her again… but she was no longer standing in the spot where she'd been.

Where are you? he sent, working hard to keep the desperation he felt that he couldn't see her out of his voice.

Walk into the dark where I was. Just keep walking.

He walked. Very quickly. And caught her scent there, in the grass—berries and sunlight… and the tang of desire. Lerrin picked up his pace until he was trotting after her trail, searching the dark.

He didn't have to search long before a small thicket of bushes made a dark spiderweb in the night—capped by a bright whiteness thrown over the tops of them. Had she washed a blanket and hung it to dry? He could smell the water here, and sensed the shadowy fingers of a handful of trees deeper into the night—likely trees that had made their home on the banks of the water.

"Suhle," he breathed.

"Over here." Her voice was quiet and firm—yet it trembled.

His heart clenched as he turned, striding in the direction of her voice until she came into view, standing alongside what was soon revealed to be water as he got close enough to see past the grasses to rippling reflection of the moon on its surface.

"Suhle," he said, relieved, rushing over to put his arms around her and warm her from the cold. "Aren't you freezing? Were you be washing laundry? I would have helped you—"

"No," she said with a small smile, stepping out of his arms. "I told you, it's a surprise. I'm not sure how well it will work, but I tried."

"Tried what?" he asked.

"A bath," she said simply.

Lerrin blinked, then frowned. "A… what?"

She took his hand and led him around the water's edge, and as they approached a small group of rocks pressing out of the earth on the banks of the waterhole, two things became visible behind them.

A small fire, sheltered from that chill breeze by the rocks, with several waterskins laying alongside it. And a natural bowl in the earth at the base of the rocks.

He frowned, then looked at Suhle.

"I can't put you in the water, but if you undress, I'll bathe you," she said, her voice breathy and quiet. "The waterskins should be warm by now."

He turned to face her and found he could barely speak. "What are you doing?"

Suhle stepped up, right up against him and lifted her hands to his buttons. "Come on, Lerrin, I've bathed you countless times," she said, barely above a whisper.

The first of his buttons gave under her fingers—that were shaking. But when he reached for her arms, she lifted her eyes and… there was sheer joy in them.

His softened his grip on her arms, splaying his fingers that easily circled her wrists and stroking the prickling skin there to warm her, instead of pull her hands away.

The second button popped, then the third.

"Suhle—" he started, but she shook her head.

"You are my mate," she breathed. "You are the only male I have ever desired, Lerrin. And I do desire you," she said, with a pointed look into his eyes. "All I ask is that you be patient with me. I don't know… I don't know how I will react. But I want to try."

Heart aching with tenderness for her, grief for what she'd suffered—and sheer rage for the males who had harmed her—he trailed his hands up her arms to her shoulders, then her hair, his fingers on her scalp, his thumbs pressing up on her jaw until she looked away from the buttons and turned her chin up.

He took her mouth as softly as he was capable, a featherlight kiss, tracing her lips softly as a breath, praying she could feel the love that swelled his chest and humbled him.

As they kissed, as Lerrin's breath came heavier, her hands never stopped on his buttons, first finishing his shirt and tugging it out of his leathers, then drawing her hands up his stomach to his shoulders and pushing the shirt off, and down his arms.

He dropped his arms to allow it to flutter to the dirt behind him, then immediately took her face again while she began on the buttons of his leathers.