Page 49 of Crimson Mate

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. She let me bite her, make love to her in a bed, signaling that she trusts me. I don’t want to scare her by uttering the words desperate to be claimed.

Instead, I relish the happy little sigh that leaves her mouth as I gently pull out of her, hurrying to clean us up before returning to bed and holding her against my chest.

“I never want to leave this bed,” she mumbles sleepily against my chest.

I smile down at her. “You don’t have to,” I say. “But I do have Conclave in a couple of hours.”

She clings to me a bit tighter at that statement. “Wake me when you have to go,” she says, barely audible as she drifts off to sleep, her even breathing signaling to me just how exhausted she is. Shifting from panic to what we just did can do that to the body, so I certainly understood.

But two hours later, as I gently shift from beneath her and dress for Conclave, I do no such thing to wake her. She needs her rest, and I want her in my bed when I return.

I want mymate.

Whether she wants to acknowledge that’s what she is or not.

CHAPTER 18

Talia

My eyes are heavy as I jolt awake, the fog clearing seconds after I sit straight up in bed, my heart pounding, something inside of me solidifying so sharply that tears come to my eyes.

It takes me a moment to remember where I am, the smell of Zachariah cocooning me as I look around his chambers. I'm alone in his bed, and I blow out a breath remembering that he’d gone to Conclave.

His departure isn't what woke me though. I know that in my bones.

I'm almost terrified to look down, despite what I feel connected and strong and thriving inside of me.

A tether to Zachariah, one that is unclouded and unburied. One that I can feel right now, with him on the other end of it at Conclave, content and peaceful and calm.

I glance down at my left wrist.

“Fuck me,” I mutter out loud, my heart racing at the sight of the once faded mating mark now fully visible in whorls of black ink against my delicate skin.

Zachariah’s mating mark.

My once-upon-a-time-mate has now become mypresentmate, my stupid,traitorousheart giving itself to him, offering itself up on a silver fucking planner.

Earlier tonight, I'd been terrified that I'd lost him, that notion overtaking every other logical thought in my mind as I took him in this bed, made love to him, bit him, and allowed him to bite me.

I love this male more than I've ever loved anything, but that doesn’t immediately wash away the terror I feel at the thought of being heartbroken again. Can I trust him enough to feel secure? Trust him to never push me away again for the sake of a mission? Trust that he’ll never again make choices for us under the guise of being inmy best interest?

My heart says I can…but my mind?

It’s a mess—a tangled, anxious mess.

I hurry into my own chambers, slipping into my fighting leathers and grabbing my weapons bag, needing to get the hell out of this residence if only to clear my mind.

I need to hunt.

I need to drink in the fresh night air and sort out my chaotic thoughts.

I know I accepted this bond with my love for him. Know we’re tied again, fate giving us a second chance to get this right.

But are either of us really in a position to do this properly this time?

The question plagues me as I grab a motorcycle from the well-stocked garage in the king's residence, silently thanking whoever owns it as I speed through the gates, heading down the night-drenched street with no real hunting destination in mind.

I just have to get away.