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“Yes. It’s an ancient angelic tongue.” Though angels were immortals, their languages had nonetheless drifted over the eons. “If I read it aloud, you’d understand large parts of it. It’s just the writing of it that’s changed so significantly.”

Naasir’s hair brushed her cheek as he leaned forward to turn the page, his body warm and strong around her. “So it’s the book from your vow?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Tugging the Grimoire out of her hands, he dropped it on the far side of the picnic blanket. When she turned to ask why he’d done that, he slammed his mouth against hers, his hand thrusting into her hair.

The shock of contact was blinding. Then came the hot, hard punch of violent pleasure. It hurt, she’d been needing him for so long. Moaning, she twisted in his embrace so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. He had other ideas.

A second later, she was on her back on the blanket, Naasir over her.

Weaving his hands through her own, he pinned them to either side of her head. His hair—one of her feathers still in place—fell around his face as he dipped his head toward her, his eyes silver bright. Mercy but he was beautiful, she thought and then his mouth was devouring hers, and her heart, it was thumping like a brutal hammer inside her chest.

She devoured him as he devoured her, her tongue licking against his, her teeth grazing his lips. He bit. Of course he bit. And that was okay, because this was Naasir and he was hers for this moment, this instant, this day.

He lowered his full weight on her, nudging apart her legs and grinding his erect cock against the swollen folds between her thighs. Inner muscles spasming as a ragged cry was ripped from her throat, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him. Growling into her mouth, he released one of her hands, reached down between them.

Claws grazed her skin.

She jerked as she felt her pants tear. He didn’t stop there—he ripped and tore until there were only a few shreds hanging by her boots. Her panties disappeared as quickly and then his no-longer-clawed fingers were stroking her with a slick, wet intimacy that made her want to beg and to take and to give all at once. Shuddering, her breasts aching and her nipples painfully sensitive, she pushed up his T-shirt and, when he didn’t cooperate, nipped hard at his jaw.

That got her a growl and a silver-eyed glance through lashes as beautiful.

“Take this off,” she ordered.

He thrust a finger inside her instead.

Her spine arched as her mouth fell open on a silent scream, her breath lost and her body clenching down hard on the small, possessive invasion.

Naasir’s lips brushed her throat.

She jerked at the scrape of fangs, but he didn’t bite, every muscle in his body so tense it was as if he’d snap. Her mind was fuzzy but she knew instinctively what was wrong. Pushing her free hand into his hair to hold him to her, she gasped in enough air to speak. “Yes. You can feed from me. Take me.

Tension dissipating into molten heat, he scraped his fangs over her needy flesh again and, withdrawing his finger from her body to her moan and the carnal, liquid sound of her readiness, moved his hand to the fly of his jeans . . . and a second later, the rigid length of him was demanding heat against her. Shoving up her thigh until her knee pressed into her breast, he began to push into her.

She’d expected him to thrust, had been prepared for inevitable discomfort, but he nuzzled and kissed at her as he went slowly. “You’re very tight, mate.”

Heart melted and in his hands, she just held on to him with a needy, hungry desperation. Her other hand remained locked with his as her body stretched to accommodate his girth and length. Kissing her, Naasir rocked forward another inch. She clawed at his back. Growling into the kiss, he rocked again.

And again, and again.

Until he was lodged fully in her, the ache of him inside her an erotic pain, and the feeling of belonging so deep tears pooled in her eyes. “Naasir.”

Keeping one hand under the back of her knee, he nuzzled his way down to her throat.

Her stomach fluttered.

Her breath hitched.

And then he sank his fangs into her right as he began to move his cock in slow, deep thrusts, each movement rasping over her aroused flesh.

The pleasure was a huge, raw crash over her senses. Naasir rode her through the first wave, ignited another by sucking her blood and rubbing his thumb against the throbbing nub between her thighs. The second one slayed her, leaving her limp and honey slick, her muscles quivering.

It was all she could do to keep her leg around his body.

Increasing the speed of his thrusts once her body stopped spasming around his cock, Naasir raised his head from her neck and took her mouth again as he pounded her into the picnic blanket. She felt taken, branded, loved with an honest, wild ferocity that called to her own primal nature.

Not fighting instinct, she bit down on his neck when he bent his mouth to her throat again. A deep, inhuman growl, his hand tightening its grip . . . and his fangs sinking into her as he thrust his cock home.

* * *

Naasir collapsed on top of his mate, his cock still snug inside her, and lazily stroked one silken thigh. He could hear her heart thundering beneath him, feel her body clenching in unexpected spasms that wrung pleasure from her limp form. Shocked surprise had dilated her pupils to dark moons.

Smiling smugly, he kissed her, then nuzzled his way down to lick closed the tiny wounds he’d made with his fangs. “You’re delicious.” He would feed from her often when they rutted.

Enjoying their combined slickness, and happy she was marked by him now, he stroked gently in and out of her. His cock was beginning to harden to full readiness again. “Do you hurt?”

“I ache.” She ran her fingers over his lips, eyes heavy lidded. “You fill me up.” A smile when he nipped at the tips of her fingers, followed by a shiver as he circled his hips in a sensual tease. “Don’t stop.”

Delighted, he slid his hand down her body to push it under her tunic and the tight tank top she wore to control her breasts. Her inner muscles clamped possessively on his cock when he closed his hand over the warm, soft globe and squeezed. He liked that, so he squeezed again.

Andromeda arched her neck in response. Dropping his head to lick and kiss at her neck, he began to move. Slower this time, but just as deep. He could keep this up for an hour, might just do it if she let him. Lazily licking at her neck as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, he pretended to bite her when she put both her hands in his hair and tugged.

A harder pull. “I want a kiss.”

Kissing his mate was no hardship. Stretched out on top of her, he playfully seduced her mouth until she pushed at his T-shirt again. “Help me get this off.”

Sated enough to be more patient, he cooperated and soon the warm air kissed the naked skin of his back. He went to rip off her tunic, too, but she grabbed his wrist. “I already don’t have any pants.” Reaching down to her waist, she pulled the tunic off over her head, then followed with the tank top, freeing her breasts, the plump mounds topped by dark brown nipples.

“Pretty,” he purred.

Maneuvering so he was on his knees between her spread thighs, his cock still buried inside her, he palmed both breasts with possessive hands, watched her eyes flutter shut. Her teeth sank into her lower lip when he pricked her with his claws, the moan that left her throat making his balls draw up tight.

Patience evaporated.

He covered her body with his once more. He’d fondle and bite and suck on her pretty breasts later. Right now he wanted to rub up against her, inside her, wanted to drench her in his scent until no one else would ever dare make a claim on her.

Andi was his.

Her hands stroked up his ribs and over to his back, her body beginning to move in time with his lazy thrusts. “This is . . .” Another moan as he ground himself against her.