He finished feasting on one nipple and took the other, giving it as much attention as the first.

His pain ebbed as he sucked on her. The touch of the mate, Eric had told her. It calms and heals.

Whether she’d rejected the mate-claim or not didn’t matter, he told himself. Mate-claims, Challenges, and the rituals to finalize the mating were trappings Shifters had invented to keep themselves from going feral.

Shifters used rites to formally acknowledge the mating, but a true mate—one who shared the mate bond—was a magical, unexplainable joy. The mate bond sealed mates to each other, ritual or no ritual.

Iona was the mate of his heart. Eric knew it like he knew the sound of his son’s voice. Iona knew it too, though she might not admit it.

But her body knew it.

Eric licked the warm space between her br**sts and took kisses down to her navel. He let his tongue play there, enjoying how she jumped with laughter as he tickled her. He got to his knees and kissed the wiry hair between her legs.

The mating hunger in her responded instantly. She was wet there, not just from the shower, the scent of her honey filling Eric’s senses.

Eric knew she’d never been with a man—he could smell that. She’d probably been too cautious to take a human to her bed. She wouldn’t know how not to reveal the Shifter in the wildness of sex.

But Iona’s body knew what it wanted. Eric slid his tongue over her clit, licking the little berry to life. Iona rose on her tiptoes, moving her hips to press herself to his mouth. She made a noise of pleasure, a woman learning what it was like to have her sexual places touched.

She tasted of salt and musk, and beautiful female. Eric clasped her hips, leaned into her, and drank.

Iona’s legs slid apart, wet feet moving to let Eric take more. Eric slid his mouth over her opening and let the goodness of her fill him.

Iona alternately groaned and whimpered, her strong body pressing at him, wanting more. She wanted all of him, he knew, his c**k filling her up, the Shifter female craving the male’s seed.

That would come. For now Eric assuaged his weakness by tasting her, letting himself drown in her scent and her heat.

“Eric.” Her voice filled the tiny room, echoing from the tiles. Iona shivered, though the hot water coated her skin.

Eric slid his tongue inside her in slow thrusts. He tasted the depths of her, savoring her heat on his tongue. She tasted of nectar and incredible sweetness, smelled glorious.

Iona’s fingers bit into his shoulders. When Eric looked up, it was to see her head rocking back, her mouth opening with her cries, the ends of her drenched black hair curling on her br**sts.

The hair he licked was as black, her petals wet with her honey. Eric drank her, his hands cupping her bu**ocks, and Iona went into shudder after shudder of pleasure.

Eric plied his tongue faster, liking how she responded. She was coming beautifully, her cries blending with the patter of the water. He drank her, lapping her goodness like a greedy thing, then he rose, rinsed his face in the shower’s stream, and kissed her.

Iona responded hungrily, tongue tangling his, lips bruising, mouth opening to take him. Her fingers caught on his Collar, and for a moment, she tugged at it, as though desperate to unfuse it from his skin.

Someday.

Iona’s roving hands found his erection, which stood out straight and hard from his body. As she had in the back hall of her house, Iona closed her hand around him and began to stroke.

Eric broke the kiss to pull her close. She’d learned well, squeezing and pulling, the crazed ecstasy of it almost unbearable. Eric’s hips moved as he thrust into her hand.

“That’s it, my Iona,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful.”

Iona sped her strokes, her tongue busy on his chest and neck, her teeth latching onto his throat. Eric would have more love bites for his family to tease him about, not that he minded.

They were locked together, Eric’s arms tight around her, Iona in the curve of his body. Eric felt the need for her deep within him, the urge to mate and mate and never stop.

He braced his hand against the wall as he thrust into her fist, the squeezing almost as good as being inside her would be. Almost.

“Iona. Damn.”

His release shot out of him, right into her hands. Eric dragged her close, thrusting and coming, f**king her hand like he wanted to do to her. Iona smiled up at him, her blue eyes soft.

The beauty of her, coupled with the erotic joy gripping his body, took away all pain, all thought except the joy of being with her.

Eric knew he could never let her go. He’d never be whole again without her. Iona completed him like no other person had since Kirsten—he’d not felt this at peace since his mate had passed at Jace’s birth. So many years with emptiness inside, and now…Iona.

Eric kissed her, slowing now, his pain gone.

Iona leaned him into the wall, strength in her slim body, and pressed openmouthed kisses to his face, his neck. “Eric, I want…”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Now. Why can’t it be now? I need you.”

The feral beast in Eric, so close to the surface, agreed. Take her now, to hell if they drowned, and do her for days. Graham and his wolves, the human world—everything else—didn’t matter, as long as Eric could bury himself inside this beautiful woman.

“I don’t want to drop a cub on you,” Eric said rapidly, his body crying out in protest. Like your father did to your mother. “Not until we’re joined under sun and moon. Join with me, love, and then we’ll slake the mating frenzy—I don’t care if it takes a month or a year of nonstop screwing.”