LIAM

I growl against my mate's throat as her scent changes, slowly mingling with my own. The taste of her is on my lips, on my tongue, the feel of her small body quaking against mine, her cunt gripping me tight. She sags against me, her eyes closing, and I hold her close, waiting.

Andrea.

I remember her now.

Memories are starting to trickle in, memories clouded by the madness.

I…have not always been mad. I know her. I know her scent, and I know where she comes from. Other faces flash through my memory. A boy with a chipped tooth. A man with a dog. A dark-skinned woman that is friends with my Andrea. More and more faces flit through my memory, but Andrea's is the one that keeps coming up. Andrea laughing as she guards the gate to the fort. Andrea with her shotgun on her shoulder as she walks. Andrea's hips with that little saunter. Andrea's wistful expression as she gazes up at the stars. Andrea as she gasps, holding on to me as I make her climax, my face between her thighs as she stands over me.

My thoughts are full of Andrea, and they bring me joy.

That feeling of joy washes more of the madness away. It hovers at the edges of my thoughts, ready to flood forward if given the chance, but the scent of the woman in my arms keeps them at bay. I hold her close as we lie on the stone-covered ground together, cradling her against me. I touch her strands of golden hair, so soft and silky compared to my own. I touch her delicate pale skin and the curves of her belly. I touch the curls that hide her cunt from my view but capture her fragrance so wonderfully. Just touching her settles my mind.

My mind is still murky, but the longer I sit and hold her, the more my thoughts return.

Sickness. I remember this. I raise one hand into the air, a vague memory of a metal tube with a note in it. I held it once…how long ago was that? A few hours? A day? Two? However long it has been, it's gone now. My shorn claws have grown out some, the ends jagged, and I study them. I will need to keep them short so I don't inadvertently harm my Andrea. I bury my face against her neck and breathe in her scent.

Wake soon, I tell her impatiently. I miss you.

There's no response. Not yet. I can feel her mind gently opening to mine, though, like a desert flower unfurling petal by petal. She's coming to me, but she's not there yet. So I stroke her, and wait, and try to remember human things to counter the stench of the human place around me and the madness that sends little tendrils through my mind.

When she wakes up, we will talk. We will kiss, and mate, and I will fill her with my seed, and her mind will touch mine…and then I will be whole again. My cock aches, desperate to pump into her body, to fill her with my spend, but I cannot take her while she adjusts to my fires.

There will be time enough for that later.

I croon soft sounds at my mate and tuck her against me, closing my eyes. Even though my body aches fiercely with the need to claim her, and the madness threatens at the edges of my mind…I feel content for the first time in what feels like forever.

She has given this to me.

My Andrea.

The human world is quiet around us as she sleeps, my fires seeping into her scent. I love the way it’s changing, absorbing my essence into her spirit, until her scent becomes maddeningly intoxicating. It was already irresistible. Now that she smells like I’ve claimed her, she’s that much more appealing. I breathe in deep, enjoying her scent and the way her body curves against mine. She twitches in her sleep, and I feel in her mind when she begins to rouse.

Her thoughts immediately go to me, full of concern and hope.

I am here, I tell her, and gently nuzzle her throat.

I can feel the wonder in her thoughts. Oh. Oh…your thoughts are in mine. Are we joined?

I can’t help but tease her with a little thrust of my hips. You can’t tell?

Pleasure spirals through her, evident in her thoughts. She responds, distracted. You…you know what I mean. We’re connected in our heads.

We are. I rub my nose against her cheek, loving both the touch of her mind and her body pressed to me. My thoughts are full of her, and there is no room for the madness. Does it bother you?

Bother me? It’s amazing. Wonder floods her mind. I’ve been so jealous of the closeness Amy and Rast have. How connected they are. Now I realize just how incredible it is. It’s like there are no boundaries between us any longer. She lifts one hand to mine, lacing our fingers. We’re together in all ways. I love it. I love you, Atalim.

My heart, I tell her. I love you, too. Finally you are mine.

I was so worried about you. Her thoughts are tinged with fear. That you wouldn’t be able to return to yourself.

I’m not entirely as I was, I admit. I can feel the madness ready to creep in, and now that my thoughts are open once more, I will be vulnerable to it. But you brought me back. With our spirits linked, you will always be there to bring me back. I press a kiss to her neck.

Oh, I’m so glad.

Her scent is intoxicating, and the presence of her thoughts twining with my own heightens my desire. My need for her is overwhelming, because I can feel her body’s reaction to me. I can feel her awareness of how big my cock is as I am seated inside her, the press of my length into her cunt. The way I fill her to the point of distraction. You are the one who is distracting, I tease, clasping our joined hands and stroking deep into her again.

God, she tells me, even as she gives a little gasp aloud. I never knew it would feel like this. You’re everywhere…everything’s so deep.

We’re connected at every level. I nip at her ear even as I stroke into her again, and her cunt shivers around my cock in response. I can feel her arousal, and I let her feel mine, sharing my thoughts and the sensations that ripple through my mind. Connected. I thrust again. Forever.

And you’ll never leave me again. She pushes back against me when I rock into her, adding to the friction of our bodies.

Never.

I love you, Atalim. So much.

Hearing my name in her thoughts and the emotion attached to it makes me utterly wild. I drive into her over and over, dragging our joined hands between her thighs. She gasps when I toy with her clit using our twined fingers, and in the next moment, she cries out as the climax overtakes her. The moment she comes, I allow myself to release, too. I bury my face against her neck and growl my release as I surge into her. I pump into her clenching channel and empty my seed for what feels like an eternity.

Slowly, our panting breaths return to normal, and I continue to nuzzle her neck. I can’t get enough of her scent, her touch, the flutter of her thoughts against mine. My mate. How I’ve missed you.

I’m just glad you remember me. She squeezes my hand and I can feel her smile.

I would know you in this world and the next, I promise her. The moment I drank in your scent, I knew you were mine. Even in the madness, I knew. I brush my lips over her skin. But even so…it’s different than I recall. You are still you, but…changed?

It’s your blood. It’s changed us in little ways. Gabe can hear dragons. Benny, too. Not as clear as how we’re speaking right now, I don’t think, but Gabe says he can make out snatches of conversation here and there. I can pick up the emotions when they fly overhead, sometimes. It’s like a thundercloud settling over the fort just before they attack.

Surprising. But when I give her my fires, isn’t that a union of our spirits? Perhaps the blood gave her a bit of drakoni life force, as well. Now that she has mentioned her sickness, I compare the female in my arms to the one in my memories. She’s thinner, her cheekbones more prominent, her ribs easily counted. Have you not been eating?

Andrea gives a tiny snort. I nearly died, Atalim. These things take time to come back from. Look, you can still see my scar. She pushes her hair away from her ear, revealing an ugly jagged red line that’s bright against her skin. The black lump was called a bubo. I did some research in the medical books we have at the fort. We had the black plague and it nearly killed us. So I’m going to be a little weak for a bit longer.

Her mind fills with memories, recent images of the others. Of Gabe, his healthy face thin and sallow, eyes hollow. Of Benny, whose messy hair turned dry and fell out in clumps for a week. Of another young female, Katrina, who was so sick that her skin looked translucent, her blue veins prominent. Of Andrea gazing down at her own wrists and seeing nothing but bones and tendons under the skin.

I run my hand possessively down her arm, studying her. The Andrea I hold doesn’t match the one in her memories. She looks better, healthier, and the scar behind her ear is healed over. How long did you say I was gone?

Weeks. The simple reply is filled with devastation. So many weeks.

You must have thought I abandoned you. The realization sickens me and fills me with self-loathing. I am not a good mate for her to abandon her the moment she became ill. I could have lost her. The madness floods in again, my mouth rushing with saliva even as I feel my eyes go black. Red clouds my vision and my surroundings blur away.

Kill.

Hurt.

Destroy.

Tear this world apart.

“No, Atalim. Be calm, baby. I’m here.”

Andrea’s whisper is a splash of cool water on my mind. The madness bleeds away as quickly as it came on. I realize I am still on the ground, my mate in my arms. At some point I sat up, though, and our joined bodies separated. My throat rumbles and I realize I am growling.

She faces me, her hands cupping my jaw as her eyes—bright gold—search mine. Are you with me, Atalim?

I am here.

Focus on me. Slow your breathing. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere. Her thumbs stroke my skin.

I do as she bids, and when I am myself again, I let out a long sigh and pull her close against me. Now that my mind is open, I must be more careful not to let my emotions rule me.

“You have me. I won’t let you lose yourself,” she says, and gives me a sweet smile.

I nearly lost you.

“No, you saved me,” she corrects gently. “And you shifted forms to try and save me. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life saving you each and every day. We’re a team.”

“My beautiful Andrea,” I murmur, and then decide that I like mental speech better. It feels like a return home, comforting and familiar. I never have to use human speech again.

“Yes, but I like the way you say my name,” she tells me, putting a hand on my chest and pushing me backward to the cobblestones. “It’s sexy.”

I rumble with amusement. Her thoughts are pricking in an interesting direction, mating on her mind as she bears me to the ground. A flashed image picked up from her captures my attention. She…wants to straddle me?

Oh yeah. Her thought is husky with arousal and paired with a mental image of her guiding my cock into her cunt as she slides down on top of me and then rocks her hips over mine, driving me into her body. Is it okay if I’m on top? Or is that not done?

I don’t care if it’s done or not. I watch avidly as she slides one thigh over my hip and then moves over me, her slick folds moving against my cock. Now that I’ve seen it in your mind, I want it.

You did say humans were creative, remember? We can do this in all kinds of ways. And she fills my mind with images of us together. Of me, mounted on top of her, our faces close together instead of me taking her from behind. Of her rising atop me. Of both of us on our sides, our mouths between each other’s thighs…

I growl with lust, grabbing her hips and dragging the wet heat of her cunt over my cock. I’m aching with need for her, but I want her to feed me into her cunt like she did in the mental image she sent. Do it, I tell her. Quick.

My teasing Andrea only gives a throaty little laugh and arches her hips, rubbing her cunt against my length. Or what?

Or I will spend my seed on your skin and shame us both.

“Oh, my love,” she murmurs, her fingers gripping my length as she raises her hips. “There’s no shame in anything we do together. Sometime soon I’m going to let you paint my face with that seed of yours, and you can see how sexy it is.” She licks her lips, looking feral with need, and it makes need slam through me.

She grips me, teasing the head at her slick entrance. With another playful move, she circles her hips, her cunt enveloping just the head of my cock before she flexes and pulls away again. I growl at being robbed of her warmth, and when she does it again, this time I plant my hands on her hips and thrust her down on my length, driving into her.

Andrea’s gasp and the flood of arousal in her mind are delicious. “Cheater,” she manages in a choked voice.

Are you complaining? I arch up against her, rocking my hips to drive into her.

“You’re backseat driving,” she protests, gasping. Her back arches. “Armchair quarterbacking. I’m supposed to be in control.”

You are, I promise her, and then lift her slightly, only to thrust her down onto my length again. You’ve mounted me and claimed me as your own. I’m just…helping.

“Oh god,” she moans, and her hands move to my chest, spreading wide as if she needs to hold onto me. “Keep helping, that feels so good.”

I watch, fascinated, as I shuttle her hips up and down over my cock. I like this position, because I can look down and see her cunt sucking me deep every time I pull her down over me. More than that, all I have to do is look up to see her breasts bounce each time I drag her cunt down in a reverse-thrust. Her mouth works in a silent cry, her head thrown back, and her nails dig into my flesh.

I like the way humans mate, I decide, and when her cunt clenches tight around me with her release, I growl and pin her hips against mine as I spurt my seed deep into her, filling her with my fires again. This time, when her release finishes gripping her, Andrea collapses over me, her breasts rubbing against my chest as she lies atop me. I enjoy the feel of her sweaty skin against mine, her cunt still clasping me in her body, her thighs pressing against my hips. Her hair falls against my shoulder and she sighs, pressing her cheek against my chest. Her scent is sweaty and musky with mating, and she wears my scent more with every moment that passes.

It makes me growl low with pleasure. I like this.

Andrea chuckles low, and her breath fans over my chest. “Of course you do, you’re a man.”

You didn’t like it?

“I didn’t say that.” I can practically feel her blushing. “I just don’t feel the need to declare it aloud.” Her thoughts grow pert. If I didn’t like it, I’d tell you. And she sends me a mental image of her small fist crashing into my jaw.

A laugh rumbles up my throat. You know that’d just turn me on.

“Freak,” she mutters, but she sounds happy.