He rubbed his body against hers, scenting every bit of skin that he could reach. His bones shuddered with the need to change, but he controlled it.
Barely.
His wolf howled for release. He willed the beast to submerge itself in pleasure.
Lifting her arms above her head, he nuzzled one of her armpits. An aphrodisiac like no other, the scent of her pheromones made him crazy. He nipped the tender skin right where arm and shoulder joined. Her body jerked, her hips pressing up into him. She wasnt trying to buck him off though, not with the way her smaller calves wrapped around his, holding him to her with unmistakable intent.
He approved and let her know how much by rubbing his hard cock against the apex of her thighs. She made a choked noise, her hips bucking again and again. It was amazing how perfectly their bodies were attuned, considering she was not part wolf.
He threw his head back and howled out his pleasure and his need.
Then his head dipped forward of its own volition and his lips sought out the join of her shoulder and neck. He opened his mouth over the sensitive spot, his teeth brushing the skin there, making them both moan in a feral recognition as old as time. He bit down, gently but firmly, worrying the mark he had made the night before.
A keening sound broke from her throat and his body went rigid with pleasure at the recognition of his claiming. His wolf howled so loud inside him that his head reverberated with it. Her entire body bowed, lifting his much-larger form several inches before she collapsed back into the furs.
He shifted his hips until his granite-hard erection pressed into the slick opening to her soft body.
Do it. Her hands grabbed at him, pulling him down. Do it. Do it. Do it. Claim me .
He could not have stopped himself if he had wanted to. He claimed her with his bite and with his manhood.
As he surged inside, two things happened. The first was an overwhelming sense of coming home, even stronger than he had the night before. So strong, he could not begin to deny it. So strong that it paralyzed him into temporary immobility.
And the second was that he heard her cry out his name. In his head .
He recognized the soft cadence of her voice, but there was a timbre to it he had not heard from her before, a richness that her spoken words did not have.
No. It was not possible. She was human. She was his kings choice, not Talorcs. She was not Chrechte . She must have said it out loud and he just thought he had heard it in his mind.
That had to be it.
All inner arguments fled as the pleasure built with unprecedented speed between them. She moved under him with wanton sensuality. His hips thrust of their own accord, moving his hardness in and out of her with a speed and strength he would not have thought she could handle, much less rejoice in so clearly.
He slid his forearms under her knees and pulled her legs up so he could thrust more deeply.
Yes. Yes. Yes . . . Each affirmative barely whispered past her lips, but the intensity
of the demand was more obvious than if she had screamed the words.
He spiraled toward climax. The strange sensation that he could feel her doing the same only increased his pleasure. Building it and building it. Until they reached an orgasm together that was so intense his shy wife screamed out so loud it would have shattered his inner ear.
If the cry had not sounded inside his head.
He put his head back and howled in indescribable pleasure as he planted his seed deep in his wifes body and cried out her name in his mind.
Abigail.
Her breath seized in her chest and Abigails body convulsed with another wave of wondrous bliss as she heard her name shouted in her husbands pleasure-drenched voice.
Heard it .
Heavens above and all the saints besides. Could it be true? Had she truly heard Talorc yell her name as he reached his own pinnacle of gratification? Yet, how could it be anything but real? She who had heard nothing, not even a ringing in her ears, for too many silent years, had heard her own name called out.
She gasped at the sheer miracle of it, tears of joy burning with welcome sting in her eyes.
Grabbing his face with both hands, she demanded, Say it again. Say my name again.
But as she spoke, cold dread lapped at the edges of her joy. She had not heard her own voice.
He stared at her with satiated pleasure and obligingly complied with her frenzied request. Abigail.
She watched his lips form the syllables she knew made her name, but no sound penetrated the cocoon of silence she lived in. Desolation choked her even as she begged, Again. Please?
Talorcs brows drew together and he asked her a question with his amazing blue eyes.
She could not answer it though, only beg again, Please. Though each word she uttered eroded the hope that had blossomed at what she had thought was a miracle.
Because she could not hear her own words and now questioned whether she had indeed heard her name. But if not, then what? It had been so long since anything but silence had assailed her, she could not remember sound. She fought the forgetting of normalcy, but each year drew her further into a world that felt as if it had never had sound at all.