A deep breath in, she turned towards him. Her limbs felt heavy, laden with rocks and stones. She moved clunkily and gracelessly, all of her etiquette lessons flying out of the window for this one walk. Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, the hairs in her nostrils vibrating with every harsh breath that passed between them. Could she really do this?

Of course not. The universe was never on her side.

She stepped on the hem of her dress and fell flat on her face.

Grunt, grunt, grunt!

She was so embarrassed she wished the ground would swallow her whole. 

Her face stung, but her pride had it worse. Forehead red from thumping the floor, ears and cheeks redder still from perturbation, she scrambled to get up. Zion offered a faltering hand. She raised her face, and the tears she tried so hard to rein in began to wet the corners of her eyes. In the end, he was the one to put out his hand first.

She took it.

On her feet now, Zion quickly released her hand, but she held on tight to his second finger. He stared at her. A few weeks ago, she might have squeezed her eyes shut in trepidation and braced for impact, but now, his gaze was everything she clung to. If he could look into her eyes, through to her soul, he might understand without words what she wanted so desperately to tell him.

Grunt?

She began to chew on her bottom lip.

Grunt, grunt?

There was no way he understood her, and the same applied for her. If she did not take a leap now, she probably would not be able to do it at all. Holding her breath, she tugged on his finger, and he lowered his head, leaning down to her. 

Please don’t hurt me. I know I’m being vulgar, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.

She slung an arm around his neck, grazing her arm against one of his spikes, but the pain barely registered in the face of her tiny success. Zion flinched in surprise, but he did not shake her off, so she released his finger, and both her arms were around his neck. He was still bent towards her, the only reason her feet could touch the floor, but it all changed the moment he straightened to his full height.

His chest immediately pressed into hers as she dangled against him, but she refused to let go. This was the exact situation that led to his first erection, and Chrysanthyllis was determined not to shy away if it happened this time.

Zion’s arm moved to support her bottom, cradling her with the inside of his elbow, his hand cupping the back of her thigh. She had not felt him so keenly when he carried her through the forest before, perhaps because of her winterwear, but now, in an indoor dress, the feeling of his thick fingers through the fabric was doing bad things for her heart.

But she could not back down, not now. She tightened her arms around him.

Grunt.

He sounded as if he was in pain.

Chrysanthyllis continued to cling to him, burying her face into his neck, refusing to let go. He was warm. He also smelled good, of soap and clean skin – and something that was distinctly him.

Grunt, grunt.

He began to move.

The direction he took was towards her room, and while her bed was spacious, she doubted the delicate frame could withstand his bulk and the ferocity that their night activities would likely bring. Her cheeks began to heat.

“No, please, yours,” she whispered.

He jerked his head back, so abruptly that he broke free of her constrictive embrace. Thankfully, her fingers held fast, pressed into the back of his neck. He stared at her, head tilted, and in those few seconds, she knew that he understood. His shoulders levelled, and his entire body hardened against hers. She began to fret. She had been too forward, after all. He thought her the vilest, most disgusting louse, and he was going to drop her.

Instead, Zion hastily made a turn and the walls became a blur as they whizzed through multiple corridors and junctions. She did not know where his room was, only now discovering how far his was from hers. The sound of a door opening and closing told her they had entered his bedroom. This was it.

Warily, Chrysanthyllis scanned her surroundings. Zion’s room was near empty. A large, reinforced bed that was quite obviously made specifically for his size and weight, and a simple wardrobe off to the side. There was another door, too, that probably led to an attached bathroom. 

Grunt.

He gently set her down on the edge of his bed, but she refused to loosen her locked fingers. A light rumble vibrated through his chest.

Was he laughing at her?

Chrysanthyllis pulled him down, and he gave in easily, planting both hands on either sides of her head. He lowered himself to her, and his tongue brushed against the underside of her jaw, a fleeting lick that made her toes curl inwards. 

A monster was actually nuzzling her, and he was gentler than any human she had encountered in her life of eighteen years. His glowing eyes, his overwhelming size, the unearthly feral strength that no doubt rippled through the cords and muscles that lined his body – his appearance was that of a ferocious beast, but his true nature could not be farther from that. 

Finally, the words that she found so hard to say minutes ago were on the tip of her tongue, ready to flow out of her.

“Please let me spend the night with you.”

Zion drew back to study her. Her heart was thumping hard in her ears, blood rushing to her cheeks, her temples, everywhere. Her hands were clasped to her chest, no longer holding on to him, no longer allowing her fear to leash this man. She was going to entrust her body to him, and she wanted to trust him wholly, if only for one night. 

His hands undressed her, one lifting her supine figure slightly off the bed and the other at her back undoing the strings that held her bodice. She sat up to make his task easier, and her loosened dress fell away from her shoulders to join the bunched up skirts at her waist. Naturally, her eyes darted towards his crotch. He was positively aroused, and somewhere inside her, a small flame was lit. She felt powerful.

Her dress and chemise met the floor, and she sat naked before him. It was his turn to shed his pants.