My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"My Moon," he whispered, tracing the side of her face slowly before kissing her tenderly again and then willing himself deeper, gripping her thighs with his hands as his hips rolled against her.

She whimpered with the intensity of him—his hands that seemed to be at war with themselves, wanting to tear her clothes right here in the forest and yet trying to restrain himself with her modesty and insecurities in mind. At last, August encouraged him, arching herself against him with her arms laced behind his neck, fingers gripping his back.

"Mine," she whispered into the woods, her words spiraling up into the moonlight, "you're all mine," and she hooked her legs tighter around him, willing him closer.

This was what she needed—what they both needed—the reassurance of their mated souls entangling, blurring their physical boundaries and running together like watercolor, flushing everything else out.

Graeme finally discarded the material left between them. Suspending August in his arms against the tree, he rolled against her, entering into the warmth of her shelter for her to muffle a cry, biting her bottom lip in the process.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, his hold softening as he found the golden light of her eyes again.

She shook her head, gripping his shoulders tighter. "Don't stop," she pleaded quietly, "I want to feel all of you."

The tree's bark bit into Graeme's arms, but the soft heat of his mate being held there—of her core warmth surrounding him and clenching him tightly—sweetened the pain of it, and he couldn't help but growl softly against her, nibbling her ear even as he wanted to devour it along with the rest of her.

August tried biting back the cry that Graeme was pushing further and further toward her surface with every enticing grunt, every thrust and roll of hips. His scent and warmth surrounded her and flooded through her as they were both drenched in cool sweat and moonlight.

Bright colors exploded behind her eyes as he opened her further and further, but she was trying to slow this sensation, push it down, dull it to where it couldn't escape and embarrass her out here in the forest. Graeme grabbed the hand that she had brought up to muffle the cries threatening to escape.

"August, it's just us, love. I have you," he said in a gruff voice. "I have you. Let go," his voice was in her ear, bringing her eyes to find his. The deep cosmos in his eyes that embraced her. "You're safe here with me."

He watched her eyebrows thread together as she maintained his gaze, the pleasure building in her eyes as she opened herself more fully for him, shuddering with every wave of him that crashed into her until she was cresting with him—so high, she couldn't see anymore, and she was tumbling against him, riding out the ecstasy of their delicious slide together.

He captured her breathless mouth in his, coaxing the moans from her that rattled free only to be devoured by him and met with his own.

When she collapsed limp and panting against him, Graeme continued to hold her, trailing kisses down her neck, nibbling the soft skin over and over again, creating sweet tremors that jolted down her body adorably.

"Goddess, stop already," she giggled breathlessly against him, shuddering with every gentle touch of his fingertips on her skin. "You're really all mine, aren't you?" she whispered to herself.

"All yours. Always," he answered, ducking to kiss her lips again where he lingered a moment more before finally setting her down.

He smiled up at her as he helped straighten her clothes, revealing that dimple behind the dark texture of his beard. "Even in the moonlight, you turn a beautiful shade of scarlet."

"Thanks to you," and she felt her cheeks grow warmer. "Why do you have to be so… so…"

"Irresistible?" he raised an eyebrow at her playfully.

She laughed softly at how he pegged it, likely from feeling the impulse of what she wanted to say before she even said it. "… And out here in the woods where anyone could catch us?"

"Your human insecurities are cute," he replied, kissing the tip of her nose. "Trust me, no one is getting near us."

As they walked back toward the clearing with fingers intertwined, Graeme realized something. "You said 'Goddess.'"

"What?" she asked.

"You said, 'Goddess,' back there. I've never heard you use it."

The easy smile that was on her lips now spread wider. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? I… I guess I feel her," she said. "In the air, in the moonlight, in the forest. In you," she added as she looked up at him, and he squeezed her hand in understanding.

'Goddess.' It wasn't a curse. It was an acknowledgment.

When they arrived back at the clearing where the orange glow flickered against the trees, August noticed Sam close by the tree line with his cousin. The two men had their backs to the trees as if they were simply entranced by the bonfire from this far distance, but August couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing guard. Had they… heard everything?

August's stomach dropped in embarrassment, causing Graeme to give her a questioning look. He followed her vision to the two men a short distance from them, and he shook his head.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. There was something about his voice that spread through her soothingly, like a thick molasses coating her vulnerability.

When they arrived by Sam and Jack's side, the two turned and nodded in greeting. Despite Graeme's reassurance, August still felt the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks, and she felt Graeme squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"What did we miss?" Graeme asked.

"Just your sister kicking some major ass," Jack chuckled before Sam gave him a look. Jack cleared his throat as August's eyebrows pinched together in question.

"August, Graeme mentioned that you're an artist," Jack said, turning more fully to her now. His blonde hair appeared auburn in the firelight like his cousin's.

"Yes, that's right," she replied, surprised that at some point their earlier conversation had shifted from the brewery to her.

"Have you ever considered teaching?" he asked.

"Oh, um. Yes, actually. I did some community work with kids back home," she smiled. "Why do you ask?"

"You might have heard that we don't have traditional schools here," he said, and she tilted her head curiously.

"What we do may be considered similar to homeschooling, but it's more of a team effort. You know, 'it takes a village,' that kind of thing." Sam nodded next to his side. "Sam and I train the group in our area on fighting techniques a few times a week. They don't have anyone offering them drawing or photography unless they're doing it on their own," he said.

"The closest was probably Rachel's crayon and charcoal rubbings," Sam agreed. "Remember that?" he nudged Jack with a grin.

"When the kids did rubbings of items at home, and everyone had to guess what they were?" they both started laughing.

"That backfired," Sam mumbled, taking a sip from his mug. "August, do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she said quietly.

Greta skipped to their side from somewhere in the crowd. "Hey guys," she smiled. August noticed two long scrapes on her forehead that hadn't been there earlier.

"Greta, what happened?" August's face dropped.