“About time. Come on, everyone, let’s give them some peace.” Cassie pushed past him with a gentle shove and strolled into the bedroom to grin at Cat. “I didn’t know if he was going to drink someone’s blood or put a bullet in his brain. Thankfully, he intended to wait to do either, so I thought we were safe waiting for you to return.”
“You knew she wasn’t dead?” Jonas sounded outraged, Graeme was certain he would be outraged as well, later.
“‘Knew’ is a rather strong word,” Cassie informed them all. “She didn’t feel dead, so I was hoping . . .”
Compassion vied with amusement as she left the bedroom, followed by the others, their expressions amazed as they kept their eyes on Cat for as long as possible.
“You were lucky, brother.” Cullen stopped at his side, his hand pressing Graeme’s back momentarily. “Don’t fuck it up.”
The grief in his brother’s voice was subtle, reminding Graeme that Cullen had lost his wife several years before.
The door closed behind his brother seconds later, leaving Graeme to assure himself his mate was truly there.
“Cat?” he whispered, stepping closer, his throat tightening, emotion swamping him. “Baby? You’re really here?”
She took the last steps to him, her hand reaching up to touch his face, her expression softening as the scent of love . . . it was love, wrapped around him.
“I love you, G.” Tears fell from her eyes. “I’m going to kick your ass, I really am. But I want you to know, I love you so much. And I’m so sorry.” A sob hitched her voice. “I’m so sorry.”
She smelled of love. Indescribable, pure and invincible.
Love. He’d doubted love when she’d spoken of it, but in the many hours since he’d felt her die in his arms, he’d fully realized what he felt was love, but far more as well.
“‘Sorry’?” he whispered, reaching out to touch her, to believe she was there, to prove to himself it wasn’t some crazed hallucination brought on by his desperation to hold her, to touch her, once again. “Why should you be sorry, Cat?”
“For not understanding,” she whispered, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. “For not understanding your need to protect me, no matter the cost to yourself.”
He shook his head, his hand lifting to touch her damp face, only to realize his hand was shaking, his fingers trembling so desperately he couldn’t still them. And he had to touch her. Her lips, parted for him, soft as silk and so very tempting.
“We’ll talk later.” Later. He had to kiss her, had to hold her, show her his love for her. “Talk later.”
Swiftly lowering his head his lips covered hers, his swollen, aching tongue piercing her lips to sweep inside.
The taste of honey, sweet, innocent and filled with life, met his kiss. The taste exploded through his senses, through his soul. The mating hormone, once barely present in her system exploded against his taste buds and filled his senses now like a spark exploding into a brilliant, consuming flame burning through his senses.
She lived, here in his arms, his heart, the soul of who and what he was, and nothing else mattered.
She lived.
The pleasure was stronger, hotter. The taste of spicy heat in his kiss sank into her senses with such power that she couldn’t get enough, couldn’t sate the overwhelming need for that taste spilling to her senses.
His tongue rubbed against hers, teased her into closing her lips on it and drawing the rich potency from the glands beneath his tongue. Then he’d draw back, tempting her tongue to follow his to allow him to do the same. The passionate duel became a dance of give and take as they tore the clothes from each other’s body, determined to meet skin to skin.
Bootlaces were shredded, the leather kicked aside. Sharp claws ripped the formfitting black pants from her hips as Cat’s claws snapped the band of the denim covering his before tearing the material down the legs, allowing him to kick free of them. Shirts were nothing but strips of material littering the floor, in no way resembling what they once were.
Naked, bodies burning, adrenaline infused with mating hormones, far too powerful now to deny the bond hidden by forces out of their control for so long that the hunger for it overrode any finesse or thought of foreplay.
Cupping her rear with clawed fingers Graeme lifted her to him, feeling her thighs lift to his hips, the slickness of her juices spilling from her, meeting the head of his cock as he pushed past silken folds to thrust inside the brutal ache centered in her vagina.
“G, oh God, it’s so good,” she cried out, claws pricking the tough skin of his shoulders as her lips buried at his neck as he thrust again, harder, going deeper as sharp ecstasy echoed through her senses with each penetration inside her sheath.