Chapter 708: Surprise Attack In Jungle

Catching the acute suspicion radiating from the young girl, Zeyra let out a dry, forced cough into her fist, her expression remaining deadpan.

"What?" Zeyra said smoothly, tilting the tip of her spear toward the sunlight. "Cravers just hammered the balance out of this stone head. It needs to taste blood against fresh hide, or the temper will settle unevenly. Don’t look at me like that."

Without waiting for Sol to agree... or for Kira to voice the obvious skepticism burning on her tongue... Zeyra spun on her leather-clad heels and strode briskly down the dirt path toward the southern palisade, her stride long, brisk, and suspiciously impatient.

Sol merely chuckled, offering Kira an amused, helpless shrug. He reached down, lightly ruffled the top of Kira’s hair despite her indignant swat, and gave her a lazy parting grin before turning to follow the scout’s briskly retreating silhouette.

Kira frowned, glancing down at the mountain of uncounted resource tallies and salted meat logs still cluttering her lap, letting out a frustrated, defeated huff.

The guards at the palisade snapped their fists to their chests as the two passed through, locking the heavy gates behind them.

Along the way, Veynar sentries atop the newly reinforced watchtowers didn’t dare ask or say anything to the Supreme Spear, merely thumping their fists against their chests in deep, reverent salutes as the two passed the outer perimeter in silence.

Within minutes, the ringing wood hammers, the barking of work crews, and the smell of wood smoke faded behind them, swallowed whole by the humid, emerald hush of the ancient ironwood canopy.

Thick moss muffled their footsteps. Towering ironwood trunks reached high into the sky, blotting out the harsh glare of the autumn sun and casting the forest floor into a dim, dappled twilight.

They had barely crossed three hundred paces into the dense brush... just far enough that the towering timber walls of the settlement vanished completely behind the dense veil of hanging vines... when Zeyra suddenly skidded to a dead halt.

But strangely she didn’t look for tracks or scan the brush for game.

Instead, Zeyra casually tossed her finely balanced spear straight into the fern bushes with a dull thud.

Sol felt strange as he didn’t sense any beast or even a human or alien race far and wide around them. He didn’t think anything could deceive his superhuman senses.

Before Sol could even raise an eyebrow, she spun around, her dark eyes entirely dilated, burning with a wild, feral desperation.

With a low, ragged sound caught between a gasp and a growl, she lunged straight forward.

Her slender arms threw themselves violently around his neck, the sudden momentum slamming her lithe, athletic body flush against his broad chest. Before he could utter a single word, her mouth crashed against his in a wild, bruising assault.

Her lips were hot, hungry, and incredibly possessive. There was no gentle exploration, no patient seduction... she kissed him wildly like a starved predator sinking its fangs into fresh meat, her tongue darting into his mouth with frantic, desperate heat.

She really kissed him with a frantic, unhinged ferocity, her teeth bruising against his lower lip as she tasted his breath.

Her hands tangled themselves frantically into his thick dark hair, yanking his head down to deepen the collision, her hot, slick tongue forcing its way between his lips with greedy, starving desperation.

She pressed every inch of herself into him... her firm breasts flattening against his leather jerkin, her hips grinding shamelessly with rhythmic, urgent friction straight against the thick, rising bulge behind his trousers, letting out a muffled, trembling whimper against his lips as the masculine warmth of his scent flooded her senses.

The thought of Veylara claiming him, the lingering scent of his masculine body and days of suffocating separation had completely unhinged whatever cool restraint she normally possessed (which wasn’t much to begin with).

She kissed him as if oxygen were running out in the world, whimpering softly into his mouth as her nails clawed at the nape of his neck, completely consumed by the raw, primal urge to mark him as hers before the sun dared to set.

Sol obviously did not stay passive.

He locked one arm around her waist and crushed her fully against him.

The other hand fisted in the dark hair at the back of her head and took control of the kiss, turning it even filthier.

Sol met her desperation with equal or even more force, his tongue thrusting deep, lips bruising, the wet sound of their mouths colliding loud in the humid hush of the ironwood canopy.

The thick bulge behind his trousers was already rock hard, grinding up against the soft heat between her thighs every time she rolled her hips.

Zeyra made a muffled, broken sound into his mouth and pressed harder, as if she could crawl inside his skin if she just tried hard enough.

His hands slowly slid down her back, in slow and possessive circles, feeling every shift of muscle beneath the thin clothes.

Roaming around, they stopped at the firm soft curves of her ass as he gripped hard, feeling every bit of softness and continuously moulding her ass cheeks.

Zeyra responded instantly... wrapping both legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him, using the leverage to grind her pussy directly against the erect cock trapped in his trousers.

The friction was filthy even through the layers of cloth. She whimpered into the kiss, nails digging into the nape of his neck, completely lost in the need to mark him before the night claimed him elsewhere.

Sol kissed her until both of them were breathing hard and the taste of her was deeply embedded on his tongue.

Only then did he break the seal of their mouths, dragging his lips along her jaw as he slowly lowered her back to the moss-covered ground.

"Be a good girl" He barely managed to push these husky words out of his throat. Zeyra’s legs stayed locked around him for an extra second before reluctantly releasing.