Charlotte turned the bottle of orange juice end over end, the contents sloshing back and forth, as she listened to the young man who had taken over power in her home territory. Her gaze was distant, but she didn’t seem terribly worried. Dom still didn’t trust that there wouldn’t be violence in the Protectorate, but as each day crept by with no hint of bloodshed, even he had begun to loosen up.
“Furthermore,” the sovereign continued, “it is my intention to see the Protectorate enter into a new and more cooperative age. To that end, I will be sending my sister, the former sovereign, to a new post as our delegate in the United Territories and Allies Congress. From this position, she will speak for the Protectorate in matters related to other territories and—”
Dom flicked his finger against the console, turning off the audio feed. He was too tightly strung to listen to an elf go on about cooperation and delegates and all the other political machinations that went into keeping the threadbare tapestry of the UTA strung together.
He felt Charlotte’s eyes scanning his profile as he guided his truck into the forest he called home. They weren’t far out now, less than a half hour, but the minutes were beginning to feel longer, more painful. How had he gone this long without noticing the build up of tension, that bubbling spring of testosterone and arousal that made all demons so very volatile at this time? He was normally good at spotting the signs of the rut, but Dom had been so focused on Charlotte that he let the most sensitive time of the year sneak up on him.
A soft hand stroked the corded muscle of his forearm. Immediately, every nerve in his body came alive; each one hyper-aware of his mate and her proximity. His shadows writhed under his skin, eager for the taste and touch of her. His lust wasn’t helped by the fact that he knew how sweet she was on his tongue, how pliant she could be under his hands. The memories of their nights together slammed into him as one entity.
Fuck. He tried to breathe through the pounding lust in his veins, but it was almost impossible. It was as if his realization had unlocked the gate holding back the flush of hormones and instinct.
“What’s wrong, Dom?”
He swallowed hard, but his throat was too dry to form words properly, so Dom ended up having to clear his throat before he could speak. “I just remembered something.”
When he didn’t immediately continue, Charlotte let out a long sigh. “…Are you gonna tell me, or are you going to let my anxiety speculate?”
Dom blew out a huge breath. Staring hard at the road that wound ever-deeper into the forest, he answered, “August is in a few days.”
“Uh-huh.” He watched her move out of the corner of his eye. Charlotte shifted in her seat to peer at him, the constant movement of the bottle in her hands stilling. “What? Are you going back to school or something?”
“No.” Dom lowered his window, hoping that the scents of home and fresh air would help alleviate some of the tension currently threatening to snap his bones. “No,” he began again. “It’s August. It’s the demon mating season.”
There was a beat of silence, broken only by the rumble of the engine and the rush of wind through his window, before Charlotte let out a long, “Oh.”
A flush stole up the back of his neck and into his ears, darkening his deep bronze skin. “Okay,” she said, “so… what happens?”
Dom looked away from the road just long enough to send her an exasperated look. “What do you think happens, glowbug? I’ll be hard as a fucking rock for two straight months. The rut makes us want to do two things: fight and fuck. Not necessarily in that order.”
It was satisfying to watch her face turn bright pink, but only for a moment. Hadn’t he gone out of his way to make her comfortable, to not push her? Guilt and hormone-fueled frustration stabbed at him.
Dom let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I’m just tense. Normally I do everything I can to avoid people when the rut hits, but with everything else, I just forgot about the damn thing.”
And what grown-ass demon forgot about such a basic part of their biological clock? Dom would have been humiliated, but he allowed himself the tiniest shred of grace. Given the circumstances, he thought he could be forgiven for the oversight.
My Nan sent me on a quest and I found my mate trapped in a jar on the other side of the country. Not exactly my usual routine.
Before Charlotte could respond, as he knew she was about to, he continued, “Listen, I know that we are… that things are going well for us.” He snuck a panicked look at her. Fuck. “I mean, I think things are going well. But I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and the rut can be intense, so if you want to stay with another member of the clan while I ride it out, I’ll understand. The ban will be lifted around the time the rut ends, so your parents can come visit you there or at my cabin, if you come back.”
Gods, why did I just say that?
Yeah, he could ride it out, but it would be approximately a thousand times worse now that he knew who his mate was, what she tasted and smelled like, and where she would be. He’d never heard of a mated demon being separated from his partner during a rut. Would he even be able to stop himself from tracking her down? Or would the worst of the season finally crush his will and force him to seek her out for relief?
But he couldn’t do that. Not if it would scare her. A mate was patient, attentive. They didn’t crawl on their hands and knees to beg for sexual release when their partner clearly wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy yet.
Just the thought of being separated from her during such a desperate time, and after just finding her, made the muscles of Dom’s abdomen clench hard. Everything in him rebelled at the prospect of letting her go.
He would do it. He had to do it. Never, ever would he put Charlotte in a position where she felt trapped or unable to say no to something she wasn’t ready for. Even if he had to suffer in the worst kind of agony for two months, he would do it. Without question, he would do it.
“I’m not doing that.”
Dom was so surprised, he nearly let go of the wheel. Swearing under his breath, he corrected his hands before replying, “Glowbug, I don’t want you to feel pressured into—”
Little claws curled into the muscle of his forearm. A shiver of pure need rippled down his spine. His mate loved to sink her little claws into his flesh when she wanted him, and he’d grown to anticipate the sharp bite of them. A prick of claw usually meant pleasure was soon to follow. “Dom, I want to.”
He averted his eyes back to the road. They were so close to home, and the prospect of having her in his cabin, surrounded by his scent, willing to give herself to him in all the ways his imagination could conjure, made every second of the trip seem longer.
If he hadn’t been driving, Dom would have closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Casting her a warning look instead, he said, “It’s intense. I won’t be able to hold back like I have been. I’ll need to— You know. I’ll need you again and again and again. But… I don’t want to do anything you’ll be uncomfortable with, Charlotte. I can’t hurt you. I won’t.”