She wasn’t going to hound him about it tonight, though. She wasn’t going to ruin the mood by asking him to rip open old wounds. That could wait. For now, she was just going to marvel in the bond, in the joy of what he felt for her, in the fact that she was finally irrevocably bound to Luke. And she had the fleeting thought that if anyone tried to part them, the fucker wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, Luke woke to the feel of warm air feathering over his claiming mark. He quickly became aware that a very naked Blair was half sprawled over him, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. His still-sensitive brand tingled at the feel of her hot breath.
His brand, he thought with a curl of his lips.
They were mated now. Irreversibly bound to each other. Something he’d occasionally worried her mother would find a way to prevent, despite the fact that—even in the beginning, when Luke had been a relative stranger to Blair—his mate hadn’t experienced torn loyalties where Noelle was concerned. Blair had always been steadfastly in his corner, her loyalty to him absolute.
It was almost a little surreal to be finally bound to her. For years she had felt just out of his reach. So close yet so far.
Not anymore.
She lived inside him now, exactly where she was supposed to be. The knowledge planted itself deep in his system, anchoring him, flowing into his blood, slithering around his bones, smoothing over each and every jagged edge inside him.
The sensation of her soul knitted to his didn’t feel whatsoever strange. He’d always had that sense of her being a basic part of him … as if she was engraved into his very being and imprinted on every cell of his body. Blair belonged to him on a level that nothing else ever could or would.
Their bond burned bright, stronger than any steel. He’d psychically touched the knot of emotions that resided at the other end of it. What she felt for him wasn’t sweet and tender. It was as fiery and fierce as her personality. She loved him with a ferocity that humbled him—one he returned tenfold.
His sleepy cat did a languid stretch. For the first time in what felt like too long, the feline wasn’t restless and moody. He was relaxed. Content. Secure in his hold on Blair.
As memories of their mating flitted through Luke’s mind, his cock twitched. She’d so easily rolled with his demands, accepting it was part of who he was; pleasing his cat that she didn’t resent that forceful streak both man and animal shared. The way she’d pointblank refused to let Luke get away with holding anything back, trusting he wouldn’t take that too far and hurt her … that had touched him.
In general, there’d be very little that she’d let him get away with. Not that she’d fight him on petty shit or put up a protest for the mere sake of it—Blair was too mature for that. But she wouldn’t pander to his overprotective nature, fail to call him on his crap, or ever struggle to tangle with him. That thought made him smile.
She stirred, shifting position slightly.
Sensing through their bond that she’d woken, he danced his fingers along the arm that she’d tossed over him. “Morning, baby.”
She mumbled a non-intelligible sound.
He felt one corner of his mouth cant up. “Sleep well?”
“Trying to sleep now,” she said, a slight slur to her voice. “Woke up ’cause pulses of male smugness are drifting down our bond.”
“It’d be impossible for me to not be smug right now.” Luke swept his hand down her back and possessively palmed her ass. “I finally have you here, all marked and claimed. Not to mention naked.”
“And tired.”
“Fucking beautiful, too.”
Unable to maintain “cranky” when he said stuff like that and she could feel his total sincerity through their bond, Blair smiled against his neck. “And my tits are awesome. Admit it.”
He chuckled. “Absolutely awesome. Much like this ass.” He gave it a gentle squeeze.
Blair snuggled into him a little more, breathing in their combined scent. He now wore her on his skin just as plainly as he wore the imprint of her teeth. It pleased the possessive heart of her.
That same territorialism had risen inside her like a tidal wave when he took her last night. She understood now why he’d been so sure he’d never manage to have sex with her without also claiming her. The urge to mate that had taunted them for months had intensified by a thousand when he had finally slid inside her. She could no more have stopped herself from branding him than she could have stopped herself from breathing. It had been too necessary, too instinctual, too primal.
She wasn’t sure how it was for other women after their virginal status altered, but Blair personally felt neither here nor there about no longer having a hymen. Then again, it hadn’t been an awkward or incredibly painful experience for her. If so, she might have otherwise felt differently.