His Virgin Princess. Grace Goodwin
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to be close, close enough to once again be in my head. I had no choice but to find a way to survive, to find her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was cupping my balls, or it was the searing heat of my mark, but I could deny her no longer. “Yes. I am yours, Dani. And you are mine.”
“It’s about time, you big jerk.”
Before I could chastise her for rudeness, that crude mouth was around my cock, sucking me into a hot, wet heaven. I groaned at the feel, the sweet suction as her lips pulled inward. She worked me with her tongue, swallowing me down like I was her favorite treat. The sight was addictive. Powerful. Humbling.
How could I love a woman I had never met? Never touched. Never held in my arms?
This was the power of the Marked Mate, the mind-to-mind connection we shared. This was my gift from the gods, and I ached for her. My cock, but more importantly, my heart.
My orgasm was swift, rolling through me like a lightning bolt without warning. I did not fight it, for now it was my turn to feast on my mate’s sweet pussy. Even in a dream, I could dominate. To strip her naked and make her scream my name. Only my name.
Lifting her in my arms was easy as she was tiny. So much smaller than me that it was hard to remember the vixen on her knees was so fragile. Breakable. I backed her to a large tree, pinning her petite body and kissed her like the drowning man I knew myself to be, yanking at her clothes as she helped me strip her naked in this untamed land she’d once called home. Her love for the mountains sang through her mind in the dream, the birds singing, water raging, the high-pitched call of a pack of wild things made me pause and tilt my head to listen. Their song was beautiful and haunting, just like my mate.
“Wolves. They’re called wolves.”
“Are they beautiful?” I asked.
“Very.”
I looked into her eyes, held her pressed to me, naked. “I want to see this place. And your wolves.”
“Then you will.” The conviction in her eyes made my chest ache, and I lowered my lips to hers, claiming her again. Tasting her. Mine. She was mine. “You are mine, Dani. Your sweet pussy is just for me and me alone. I claim it. Now. Do you give yourself to me?”
She nodded, the long swing of her hair sliding over her bare shoulder. “Yes.”
I lowered her to the ground, shocked to find a thick blanket spread beneath us. The fabric was striped, and soft, warm to the touch despite the chill in the air. “What is this?”
“Flannel stuffed with down. It’s from my bed. My dream, remember?”
I settled her on the dark blue and red blanket. “Is this where you are now, mate? In your bed?”
Her gaze grew dark and serious. “You know I’m not.”
“Where are you?” I asked. I shouldn’t. I knew the answer would enrage me, make me feel helpless. If we were dream sharing, she wasn’t at the Touchstone. She was nearby.
“I’m safe. That’s all you need to know.”
Her words settled me and my gaze wandered back over her curves, the thin line of her body and small breasts. She was not soft, but lean. Strong. So beautiful. The scent of her wet core drifted from her body, made my mouth water. I ran my hand over her breasts. Her curved waist. Her hips. Lower.
“Gage.” She arched off the ground as I lowered my mouth to her clit, sucking her essence into my body so I would never forget her taste. Her scent. Carefully, I slipped one finger into her tight pussy and groaned as her body clamped down on it like a fist.
“Mine,” I breathed against her tender flesh.
“Yes.”
I spread the soft lips of her pussy open to my eyes and feasted, tasting and sucking, flicking her sensitive clit with my tongue as I worked my finger in and out of her wet heat, rubbing the inner walls of her pussy as I expertly pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
Her fingers buried in my hair and she cried out, her scream echoing off the canyon walls below us as she came, her pussy bucking and milking my finger, hungry for my hard cock.
I was hard, even though I’d just come down her throat. Hot. My cock so heavy it felt like I’d hung weights from the damn thing between my legs. I wanted her. Needed her.
Her hair spread out around her head like a halo. Her lips were full and ripe from my kisses. Her pale skin was flushed, her eyes shone with passion, lust, and unrestrained pleasure. She looked like a goddess. My goddess.
“I want you, Dani. To be inside you. To fuck you. Make you mine.”
With a smile, she spread her legs, exposing her wet, pink pussy. She might be a virgin, but she knew her passionate nature, didn’t hide from it. Or me.
“Yes.” She pushed against the ground with her feet, lifting her hips in eager invitation.
And cried out in pain, reached for her ankle. “Damn it!”
Reaching for her, I pulled her into my arms, cradling her, looking over every inch of her small body. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
“No. It’s just an old injury…shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m waking up. I’m sorry. It hurts too much.”
“What? Dani?”
The mountain faded. She disappeared and I woke, chained. Bleeding. Dying. Cold. Left for dead in a mountain cave so remote no one would find me in time. My cock? Hard as a rock, but my heart breaking, the imagined taste of her lingering on my tongue.
2
Dani, Planet Everis, Exact location unknown
There he was. After hours of hiking since I woke up, my body aching with need from the steamy bout of dream sharing, I finally found him. Followed my innate sense as a Hunter descendant, the heart-sense of a Marked Mate searching for the other half of her soul. My heart was frantically beating out of my chest at the sight of him. I saw the rusty chain affixed to the wall, curling across the floor and beneath him. Light-years from Earth, this was the perfect male for me. Warden Egara and the testing knew it. I knew it. I was sweating from my trek, but I shivered in the cave.
This hellhole. He’d been left to suffer. Die.
No one would have found him. Ever. Only me, only his Marked Mate because of our connection. The mark on my palm flared with heat and I hissed at the feel of it. A moan came from his injured form, knowing he felt the same sensation. My presence.
I closed the distance between us and pulled the huge drop bolt from the rusted metal cage door holding him. I threw the long chunk of heavy metal as far as I could and pulled the door open, dropping to my knees before him. My ankle screamed a protest, but I ignored it completely. I’d survive, but Gage? I wasn’t sure the extent of his injuries.
He sat on the hard ground, his back to the bare stone behind him. Chains hung from well over his head, outside the cage, out of reach, the dark metal links attached to manacles on his wrists. He was asleep, or unconscious. I wasn’t sure which, his body limp and his arms loose, manacles in his lap. His face, god, his beautiful face was bruised, his lip swollen, blood soaking his hair to run down his temple. I reached out, cupped his shoulder. He was cold, his bare chest covered in blood and burns, his skin like ice. They’d left his pants on, but his feet were bare as well and freezing. A thick jacket was on the ground just out of his reach. It was the same style the Hunters wore at the Touchstone, although filthy.
“Gage.” When he didn’t respond, I shook him. “Gage!”
I knew he was alive, knew because of the mark, his response to our marks being in such close proximity.
“Dani?”
“I’m