Bursting out laughing, Kirby set aside her own coffee before she spilled it. “God, your stone face is legendary.”
Mercy patted her cheek, her leopard’s laughter in her eyes. “Welcome to the family, little sister.”
• • •
BASTIEN didn’t begrudge Kirby the time she was spending with her grandparents, but it had been fucking hard to not have her close. He hadn’t even bothered to attempt to deny himself the pleasure of watching over her from a distance the two nights she stayed at the guest aerie.
Yeah, he knew rationally that her grandparents weren’t going to hurt her, but caught in the coils of the mating urge, he wasn’t exactly thinking with clean logic. If Kirby decided to head to Canada to meet more of her father’s pack, he’d damn well be going along. Forget about being civilized and understanding—he needed to be with his mate.
It had seemed like the right choice not to push her into intimacy at the start, but now he wished he’d used the passionate heat between them to tie Kirby to him on the physical level at least. What if she began to pull back now that she’d seen all the choices open to her? What if she decided she might prefer to explore her sensuality with a fellow lynx?
The agonizing jealousy inspired by the thought of anyone else touching Kirby, and fed by his raw need to claim her, tore through him as he arrived at the aerie—to find her waiting in lynx form, ready for a run.
Barely controlling his desire to lunge at her, he stripped and shifted. Kirby rubbed up against him, her fur thick and soft, the way she pretended to bite him affectionate. As if she could feel his feral tension, wanted to soothe him . . . as a mate might do. His leopard settling at the petting, though he remained on a brutal edge, he took her on a run to the lower Sierra.
There was no snow yet, but there would be soon enough. Built for that environment, her paws natural snowshoes, his lynx might just outpace him on it. He looked forward to the challenge, to playing with Kirby on her natural turf. Now, however, he was content simply to be with her under the starlit night, the moon a silver spotlight that caressed her fur like a lover.
Arriving home at the midnight hour, the world hushed around them, Bastien shifted back into his human form, while Kirby stayed lynx. She was having trouble getting used to the nudity most changelings grew up accepting as natural. “I could jump up to the aerie, throw down some clothes.”
She nodded, tufted ears bobbing.
“Or,” he drawled, his gut tight with a need only Kirby could fulfill, “I could stand right here and watch a pretty, sexy woman come out of the shift, then run my hands all over her bitable body.”
He expected a yowl of defiance, but the world fractured into light and then a lusciously sensual woman—his mate—was rising from a crouch, honey-colored hair tumbling over her back as she smiled and crooked a finger . . . and the mating bond smashed into him, the connection vibrant and primal and tasting of Kirby.
Stunned, they stared at one another.
Bastien pounced the next instant, his hands on her hips, his lips on hers. Wrapping her arms around him, she opened her mouth and he took full advantage, giving his hands free rein to explore her curves. “You are mine,” he growled into her mouth. “Always mine. I love you until I can’t breathe.” The mating bond might’ve drawn them together, but it was now entangled with heartbonds as strong.
“You’re mine, too.” Hand fisting in his hair on that ferocious claim, she moaned and held on tight, her body straining as she rose on tiptoe. When she made a frustrated sound, he hitched her onto his hips and turned to the tree trunk, then paused.
“Bastien?” Kisses along his jaw, her skin silky soft against his.
“Bark will hurt your back,” he muttered, nibbling on the tip of her ear because he knew it drove her nuts.
Shivering, she purred, sought his lips for a kiss. He opened his mouth on her own, licked and tasted, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her body under his, wanted to be inside her, her pleasure feeding his. “Up,” he said, his breath jagged. “Climb.”
She tightened her thighs around him. “No.” Nipples rubbing over the hard wall of his chest, she kissed him again, licking just the way he liked. “Here.”
He almost gave in, pounded her on the forest floor, was stopped only by the sneaking suspicion that had taken root when he’d realized how touch starved she’d been. “Have you done this before?” he asked, too aroused to be anything but blunt.
“No.” She didn’t stop tormenting him, her slickness erotic temptation against his abdomen. “I am so ready, Bastien.” Her body moving sinuously against his own. “I want to be with you. Only you.” Kiss after kiss. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”