Page 33 of The Huntmaster

Then he began to feast.

One tip of his tongue circled my clit with a firm, relentless pressure, swirling in tight, dizzying circles that sent sparks shooting up my spine. The other tip dipped lower, delving into the slick, desperate heat of my entrance, tasting me with a deep, hungry stroke before retreating to trace the same path again. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, a symphony played on my most sensitive nerves by a master who knew exactly how to make them sing.

It’s too much, my mind screamed. It’s not enough.

His hands, those large, alien hands that could snap a neck with lethal grace, tightened on my thighs, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of my inner legs. He held me open, pinned for his consumption, and the possessiveness of it sent a fresh wave of slickness gushing against his mouth. He groaned, the sound one of pure satisfaction, and drank me in.

The forked nature of his tongue allowed him to do things no human ever could. He would flick the two tips in rapid, alternating succession against my clit, a fluttering, electric pulse that made my hips buck uncontrollably. Then he’d press them together, forming a single, broad, rough surface to lap at me with long, slow, thorough strokes that dragged a moan from the depths of my chest.

I was babbling, a stream of broken words and pleas. “Yes… right there… fuck…”

He answered by increasing the pressure, his mouth sealing over me completely. He suckled at my clit, drawing the swollen bud between his lips and applying a pulsing pressure with his tongue while the lower fork continued its relentless, shallow thrusts inside me. The combination was exquisite torture. I could feel the rough, cat-like barbs on his tongue—a texture I’d never known existed—grazing over my hypersensitive flesh with every pass, amplifying every sensation into something sharp and bright and almost painful in its intensity.

My vision swam, the violet canopy above blurring into a haze of colour. The only things that were real were the heat of his mouth, the vibration of his growls against my core, and the building, coiling pressure deep in my belly. I was climbing, my breaths coming in ragged, sobbing gasps, my heels digging into the soft earth for leverage.

He sensed it. His hands slid under my ass, lifting me higher, angling me perfectly for his devouring mouth. His pace became frantic, his tongue a blur of wet, hot motion. The forked tips worked in perfect, devastating harmony, making me ache for him in a whole new way.

"Kaelen," I sobbed, my hips bucking against his face.

The world was spinning. The violet trees, the silver leaves, the dual suns—it all vanished. There was only the sensation of him, the vibration of his primal growls against my skin, and the terrifying, beautiful realisation that the Huntmaster had finally caught his prey.

And I never wanted him to let go.

Chapter 21

Kaelen-Thul

The forest floor was a suffocating blanket of violet ink, but I saw nothing but her.

My mouth was still wet with her, my tongue still vibrating with the phantom sensation of her frantic, arching hips. The scent of her—S’va—was thick in the air, a heady cocktail of human fear, venom-induced haze, and raw, intoxicating arousal that set my own blood to boiling.

I was the Huntmaster. I did not lose control. I did not bow to the primitive whims of the flesh. I was the silent watcher, the swift blade, the guardian of the Pulse.

Yet, I was currently anchored between her thighs, my claws digging into the damp moss, trembling with a need that felt less like desire and more like a physical necessity for survival.

"Kaelen," she sobbed again, a broken sound that shattered the last remnants of my discipline.

I surged forward again, sealing my mouth over her. I forgot the Sun-Stinger. I forgot the Council. I forgot the rules of the Alu’un. I forgot that I was supposed to be teaching her, not consuming her.

I tasted the metallic tang of her climax brewing, a frantic, desperate flavour that I wanted to drink until it consumed me.

She is singing, I thought, a strange, poetic phrase from a language I barely knew. Her body is singing to mine.

Every nerve in her seemed to harmonise with the vibrations of my own growls. Her skin felt like silk over steel, tight and impossibly sensitive. I could feel the electricity arcing between us, a raw, primal energy that was intensifying, drawing from the very life-blood of the Great Tree above us.

"Delicious," I rasped against her wet flesh, the word escaping me in a growl of pure, intoxicating satisfaction. I had never tasted anything like her. She was a mixture of sweetness and heat that made my head spin, a flavour that was entirely forbidden and entirely necessary. "So fucking delicious, star-woman."

It was more than pleasure. It was a merging.

I felt the immense, slow thrum of the Alu’un—the great, living pulse of the planet—and for the first time in my life, it seemed to still, holding its breath to watch us.

My own body was a traitor. My Pulse was screaming, a high-pitched, manic melody that demanded I claim her completely, right there in the dirt. My length was agonisingly hard, straining against the leather of my breechcloth, desperate to shove inside her and never pull out. I had never felt this. Not with a female of my own kind, not in the throes of a hunt, never. It was a hunger so vast it felt like it could swallow the forest.

I was devouring her, my tongue a blur of wet, frantic motion, bringing her to the very edge of the abyss.

Her hips bucked, a violent, desperate motion that lifted her off the moss. Her voice reached a pitch I hadn't known she was capable of, a long, shattered scream of pleasure that echoed through the thicket.

I felt the precise moment her climax hit. It was a seismic shift. Her muscles spasmed, clamping down on my tongue with crushing, wet force, and I drank it all—the taste of her shattering, the raw, unadulterated release of it. I groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure satisfaction, and continued to lap at her, drinking until the waves subsided and she was left shaking, breathless, and entirely mine.