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Tarkyn crept around the trunk of one of the larger trees in the little valley and smiled the smile of a predator.

Harth was crouched behind a mound of fallen branches and rocks, listening. But he was downwind. She hadn’t scented him—and hadn’t yet realized he was behind her.

He would have liked to have told himself it was only his skill as a tracker and scout that had put him to such advantage, but the truth was, the bond was far more clear for him than for her. It made him uneasy to know that somehow he felt their connection more than she did, but he shook it off. It could simply be a function of their different physiologies.

It didn’t mean she loved him less.

He crept forward using all of his skill to keep his feet silent on the grass, not leaping on her until she was within reach.

“Gotcha!” he growled.

Harth shrieked and leaped, flipping herself around, eyes so wide they were white all the way around. She held one hand to chest, which heaved—too deep, too fast.

“Harth, beautiful, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

.....

“It’s okay.” She swallowed hard, but the fear didn’t leave her face, and she was beginning to tremble. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said hurriedly.

He gathered her into his arms, cursing himself for his thoughtlessness. Of course she wouldn’t take well to being ambushed. What had he been thinking!

But of course, as he tried to apologize again, she only shushed him.

“Tarkyn, seriously, it’s fine! Now that the shock is passed I’m actually more annoyed that you were able to get to me without me sensing it! I thought I’d successfully hidden from you—but you could still sense me, right?”

He nodded, combing her hair back from her temples. They’d been trying different things and discovering boundaries—or lack of them—in their bond.

“Will you forgive me for the scare?” he asked quietly.

Harth tipped her head and a wicked gleam entered her gaze. “Only if you do a favor for me…”

Tarkyn’s body leaped to attention the moment she smiled like that. He growled his approval, but she laughed and pushed him back, insisting that they undress first.

Tarkyn did as she bid and gave her space, working quickly to pop the buttons on his shirt and whip it off. But his mate… his wicked, playful mate just bit her lip and stared at him from a few feet away, her fingers very, very slow on her own buttons.

“Do you need some help, Love?” he asked, letting his voice husky and get deeper.

But Harth shook her head. “I want to see you,” she said with a little grin. “I never get to just look at you. I want to do that.”

Tarkyn’s brows popped up—along with applicable parts of his body—but he only smiled, then tossed his shirt away. “Whatever my mate wants, she gets. Please… drink in the sights, my love.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. He was pathetic. And he didn’t even care.

Within seconds he’d stripped completely, leaving his clothing tossed aside like trash—not usual for him. Order was crucial. But for this moment… with this mate’s eyes growing darker and her tongue snaking out to wet her lips?

For this he would let the world descend into chaos.

When he was naked, the light wind whispering on his skin, he looked at her for cues, standing there, hands open. “What would you like me to do?”

Harth bit her lip again then sidled towards him. “Just stand there,” she said, but her voice was breathless in a way that clenched his belly and drew his balls tight.

She approached him fearlessly, which he loved. His body was making his arousal known, but her eyes hadn’t yet drifted down.

She walked to stand right in front of him, examining first his jaw, then his shoulders. When she reached up, it was to run a finger along his collarbone. She traced the divot between them, then along the other clavicle, her touch raising goosebumps on his skin.

Then she took both hands and drew them along his shoulders, kneading and following the lines of his muscles until her hands dragged down to his arms and she gripped his biceps.

He was about to reach for her, but she shook her head, still smiling. “Turn around,” she said, her voice husky.

Tarkyn’s breath came faster, but he turned, pleased when she made a small sigh of appreciation as his back was revealed.

“This is my favorite part, I think,” she murmured, drawing one hand along his shoulders, then down the line of his spine, her fingertips trailing so lightly he physically shivered.

He put his hands on his hips to force himself to keep his hands from her as she continued to explore—tracing the lines of his buttocks, commenting on the hollow at the side of them and placing the heel of her hand there.

“Everything about you is so… big,” she said thoughtfully.

Tarkyn swallowed a burst of juvenile laughter.

He’d spent too many years in the barracks of soldiers not to have the proverbial joke rise in his thoughts.

He tried to imagine himself relaying this story to Gar. “No, really, she really did say that!” But as hilarious as it might be, he knew he never would. These moments with her when she showed her innocence were precious to him.

“Does it frighten you?” he asked suddenly, wondering if he’d misinterpreted the breathlessness in her voice.

“No. I love it,” she said, then gave a little giggle. “I never thought I would say that, but it’s true. You make me safe, Tarkyn. I’ve always feared males on some level—especially humans, but anyone that could overpower me. There’s always been a part of me that stayed… alert.”

Tarkyn knew that feeling and grieved that she had it.

“But,” she said brightly, leaning into his back and resting her forehead on his spine, “with you I’m… relaxed. I feel safe. Your size, your strength, they’re my safety. My protection. Not my threat.”

She said the words so simply. But Tarkyn was overcome. For a moment with her leaning at his back, he pulled her hands around his waist and held them to his stomach, simply appreciating her trust. Cherishing it.

But clearly she was moved as well, because after a moment, she sniffed, then breathed deeply and pulled her hands out of his grip.

“Stop distracting me with feelings,” she said with mock displeasure. “This is a moment for appreciating the beauty of what the Creator made you to be. So stand still while I do that.”

Happy to lighten the mood if it was what she wanted, Tarkyn raised his chin and pretended to position himself to be observed. “Like this?”

Harth giggled again. “Yes. Exactly like that. Don’t move.”

Tarkyn nodded once, then made himself go still as a statue.

Until his mate’s fingers began to trail up his sides to his ribs, following the lines of muscle there up and under his arms until he was giggling like a child and flinching from her touch.

“You’re ticklish?” she asked, delighted.

“No!” he insisted, squirming and twitching.

“You are!” she laughed.

Tarkyn growled, then turned quickly and pulled her against him, pinning her arms under his and glaring at her.

“This is a secret between mates! If you tell a soul, I will… punish you! Soundly!”

And then the little minx gave him a look… as if he’d promised her a toy.