Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I wrap my arms tightly around him and nod, encouraging him to go on. He thrusts again, and then is pumping into me, fast and furious and so good that I’m biting down on my lip because I know I’m going to start crying out again. Another orgasm is about to blast its way through me, thanks to his spur, and I decide not to fight it. I just let go and totally give in, losing myself to the moment. One endless orgasm crashes into another, and I’m barely aware of Pashov straining over me.
He comes in the next moment, and I’m surprised by how quickly he gets his release. It’s all right, though. Right now it’s all about connecting again. And I’ve come so many times, so fast and so hard, that I don’t mind that he got his in a flash.
Pashov collapses on top of me, all sweaty, velvety skin, and I cling to him with arms and legs, desperate to keep every inch of our skin touching. I need this. I need my mate’s touch. I’m worn out, exhausted, but this is the best I’ve felt in weeks. And a happy, sated little smile curves my mouth when he rolls onto his side and pulls me along with him, letting my smaller body sprawl over his chest.
Now, it’ll come, I think drowsily. He’ll remember that he always grabs my ass right about now. No tail, he’ll say, and spend the next half hour petting and stroking my butt like it’s something special.
But he doesn’t.
He touches my hair, panting, and seems content to let me lie on top of him.
And as one moment ticks into the next, my skin prickles with just how…different this is. This isn’t our normal MO. At all. Pashov and I, we have a ritual. We’re not the most inventive or imaginative, and I like it that way. I like it that my mate kisses me for what feels like hours before he moves on to my breasts, and then licks my pussy before penetration. It’s like he’s going down a menu, and I enjoy that.
Except tonight…he didn’t kiss me. At all.
And he’s still not grabbing my butt. His hand rests at my waist.
My heart hurts all over again.
I can’t help it. I start to cry. At first it’s just a sniffle, but as one moment passes, and another, I feel more alone.
I feel…like I cheated on my mate.
Which is so stupid, but this wasn’t my Pashov. This wasn’t my kiss-hungry, loving, silly-and-grabby-handed mate. This was a stranger wearing his face, and I slept with him because I miss my mate so fucking much.
“Stay-see?” His hand moves against my waist, and I can hear the question in his voice. “Are you…well?”
Am I well? I press a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle my sobs because I don’t want to wake Pacy up. I want to push off of him and retreat to the far side of the tent. I want to bury my face in his chest and let him stroke my hair and tell me everything’s going to be all right. “I wish you could remember,” I choke out. “Something. Anything. About how it used to be with us.”
I feel him suck in a breath. “Me as well. I would give anything to remember.”
And that somehow makes it worse.
PASHOV
The greatest moment of my life is followed by my lowest.
Being inside my mate? Sharing pleasure with her and feeling the sated release that comes with mating? The low thrum of my khui in my chest? The feel of Stay-see’s small human form resting on top of me? I feel like the strongest male in the world.
It means nothing when she begins to cry.
Her shoulders shake with weeping, and even though I ask what is wrong, she can’t speak between her sobs. Only I wish you could remember.
To her, I am still a stranger. This is why she cries. She misses her mate. And I feel…like half of a man. For the first time since I woke up and was told the strange news that two turns of the seasons had passed and I had forgotten them, I feel like I am missing. Missing something big.
Before now, it was just strange. To look at Stay-see’s odd human face and try to fit it into my memories was a game. Pacy? My son? Interesting, but I did not feel strain or worry when I did not remember him. It was just an oddity. It would come back in time. Nothing to worry over.
But now? I worry.
Now, I feel like less. I have mated with her wrong, and she realizes it.
I have mated wrong.
I have no memories of mating before this. How can I have forgotten something that feels so important? So primal? So perfect? Yet I have clearly mated with Stay-see many times in the past, and I have done it wrong this time, and this is why she weeps. It is yet another reminder that I am not the mate she thinks I am. And it hurts her.