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The Primale grabbed her hand and put it palm-first between his legs. As she gasped at the contact, his hips surged and pushed something long and hard into her palm. “The wanting is not the problem.”

Cormia’s lips parted. “Your grace . . .”

Their eyes met and clung. When his mouth opened slightly, as if he couldn’t breathe, she gained the courage to gently wrap her hand around his rigid sex.

His massive body trembled and he let go of her wrist. “It’s not about the mating,” he said hoarsely. “You were forced into this.”

True. In the beginning, she had been. But now . . . her feelings for him were not forced in the slightest.

She looked into his eyes and felt a curious relief. If she wasn’t his First Mate, none of this counted, really, did it. Moments like this, with them together—they were just two private bodies, not vessels of immense significance. It was just him and her. A male and a female.

But what about the others, she had to ask herself. What about all her sisters? He was going to be with them; she could see it in his eyes. There was resolve in that yellow stare of his.

And yet, as the Primale’s breath left him on a shudder, she pushed all that out of her mind. She would never truly have him as her own . . . but she had him alone right now.

“I’m not being forced anymore,” she whispered, leaning into his chest. Tilting her chin up, she offered what he wanted. “I want this.”

He stared down at her for a moment, and then the words he spoke in a guttural voice made no sense: “I’m not good enough for you.”

“Untrue. You are the strength of the race. You are our virtue and power.”

He shook his head. “If you believe that, I’m not at all who you think I am.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not—”

She silenced him with her mouth, then pulled back. “You can’t change what I think of you.”

He reached up and brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “If you truly knew me, everything you believe would change.”

“Your heart would be the same. And that is what I love.”

As his eyes flared at the word, she kissed him again to get him to stop thinking, and evidently it worked. He groaned and took the lead, taking those soft, soft lips of his and stroking her mouth until she couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. When his tongue licked at her, she sucked it in on instinct, and felt his body jerk and surge against her.

The kissing went on and on. There seemed to be no end to the ways of it or the different sensations of rasp and drag and thrust and suck, and it wasn’t just her mouth that was a part of it . . .Her whole body felt what they were doing, and clearly going by its heat and urgency, so did his.

And she wanted him even more involved. Moving her arm up and back, she rubbed at his sex.

He pulled away sharply. “You might want to be careful with that.”

“With this?” As she stroked him through his trousers, he threw his head back and hissed—so she did it some more. She kept at him until he was biting into his lower lip with long fangs and the muscles running up the sides of his throat were straining.

“Why must I be careful, your grace?”

His head righted and he brought his mouth to her ear. “You’re going to make me come.”

Cormia felt something warm pool between her thighs. “Was that what you did when we were in your bed? That first day?”

“Yes . . .” He drew the word out, the s drifting.

With a curious, single-minded drive, she found that she wanted him to do that again. Needed him to.

She angled her chin so that she was right at his ear. “Do it for me. Do it now.”

The Primale growled deep in his chest, the sound vibrating up between their bodies. Funny, if she’d heard the sound from anyone else she would have been terrified. Coming from him, in this situation, she was thrilled: His leashed power was in the palm of her hand. Literally. And she had the control.

For once in her forsaken life, she was in control.

As he pushed his hips into her palm, he said, “I don’t think we should—”

She cranked her hand down on him hard, and he moaned in pleasure. “Don’t you take this from me,” she demanded. “Don’t you dare take this