Page 48 of Fathom

I looked over to see he had torn rips into the bed on either side of me with his claws.

“Eun,” I whispered, running my hands down his back, through the responsive strands along his spine.

I shifted, but I couldn’t quite move.

He was still hard inside of me, pulsing, and when I tried to wiggle upwards, both his body and a strange tugging inside of me prevented me from moving. I'd felt the same thing when we had had our epic session the day before, but I'd been so blissed out from multiple orgasms I never really thought about it.

He turned his face to press it into my neck.

Then he licked me, his tongue following the path of my jugular.

I giggled, tilting my chin upwards to give him space, then I lifted my hands to his cheeks. I seized his face and moved him so that it was right above mine. I lifted my head to his, and I kissed him.

His lips parted, and my tongue traced the edges of his sharp teeth.

His tongue followed mine back into my mouth, andsuddenly he paused, breaking off the kiss to lift his face away from mine. He used his finger to peel back the edges of my lips, looking at my teeth.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

He said something I didn’t understand, inspecting my canine teeth with an intense curiosity.

I pushed his hand away and attempted to wiggle out again from underneath him, but still, I couldn’t move.

“Let me up,” I laughed at him, pushing on his chest.

“Wait,” he said, pushing his hips against me, drawing another gasp as I felt the head of him press deep inside me. “Knot.”

I waited, staring at him as he closed his eyes and put a hand over his nose. He pinched his nose and took several long, deep breaths through his mouth.

I felt him soften, and the pressure inside me close to my opening let off.

He slid out of me and then got up, going to the ensuite bathroom.

He came back with a wet cloth and began carefully cleaning me. I lay there, languid and relaxed as he reverently swiped the wet cloth between my legs.

Then he began to get dressed.

My heart faltered.

Why was he getting dressed so quickly?

Had I misunderstood what this was? My thoughts spiraled. What if the contract wasn’t a marriage contract at all—but something else? Some kind of predatory-prey dynamic I hadn’t fully grasped, like a cultural kink agreement I had blindly stepped into? My skin prickled with doubt. What if I had just given him what he wanted, and now he was done with me?

“We have to leave already?” I asked, pushing myself upright, frowning.

Was this just some kind of kink hotel? The contract, the paperwork, maybe none of it meant what I thought it did. I hadn’t seen any obvious interspecies couples in the city. Not ones that looked like us. And the shows I’d watched made it clear: this sort of thing was… frowned upon, at best.

“Yes. To finish the marriage contract,” he said, his voice calm as he handed me my clothes.

There were a few more words I didn’t catch, but I dressed as he waited beside the low table, where the last page of the paperwork lay waiting. He took up the pen and signed one of the lines, then turned and held it out to me.

This was it.

A final moment of choice.

But trust wasn’t something I could just decide to give; it had already been earned, piece by piece, in a hundred quiet ways.

I remembered the first moment I met him, the way he had thrown himself between the predators from that warehouse and me. He hadn’t known me. He had no reason to help. But he had.