My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"I was 14," August said, crossing her arms. "I was at a party with friends and some guys we didn't really know. I ended up in a room I couldn't get out of," the mask she wore paled considerably, but she continued staring at him like she was challenging him to hear it. "With two of them," her eyebrows raised, remembering.

The air was sucked out of Graeme's lungs as he looked back at the girl who was now far away in her mind, staring past him. She looked hollow, the specter of a memory whistling through her. Graeme grabbed her hands to bring her back to him.

"I'm not a lycan, but…" August whispered as she refocused back on his face, "but I'm not weak, Graeme. I'm not. That—that didn't break me, and this won't either. I can handle this."

"Okay, okay," he choked out, pulling her gently against him, cupping her head against his chest where she couldn't see the tears that continued to escape for her. "I just wish you didn't have to handle it." 'And you don't have to handle it alone anymore. I'm here,' he thought to himself, willing her to hear it. To believe it.

He gritted his teeth—what kind of cruel world was this? So much horror and violence to those he had loved or would come to love—even before he was able to help them. It was like the universe was laughing at him. Like it was making a mockery of every protective instinct he had. Every instinct that told him he should be able to control things. That he should be able to prevent or alter events by his will alone. Why was that not the case?

But despite everything that had happened—despite every fear of failure or weakness that both Graeme and August harbored—simply being in one another's arms seemed to sooth and cover it all. After some time allowing the closeness to comfort them both, he lifted her into his arms so he could see her eyes again. Her beautiful golden eyes that burned into his.

"Let me help you carry it," he spoke softly against her, ducking his head so that their foreheads rested together. "Let me help you carry these burdens like you me helped carry mine. Please."

Graeme leaned to turn on the shower before walking under it with her, smoothing her hair back with the warm rain that cascaded over them both. The water gradually soaked their clothes as they held each other.

August lifted her face to see the drops of water that had thickened Graeme's lashes and clung like jewels to his beard. His hair was wet and matted against his forehead as he gazed deeply back at her, caressing her face with one hand while he supported her with the other.

"I vow to be here for you always, my love. In whatever way you need me. Nothing could ever change that," he whispered.

And suddenly the water was a curtain keeping the rest of the world out, and she wanted to never leave. To never tear herself away from the warmth of his eyes that reached so deep into her. She was breathless gazing back at him.

Graeme hadn't been disgusted by her. He hadn't walked away. He hadn't gotten angry or threatened to hurt someone. He was still here just as he had been—holding her close, reassuring her. Believing her. And somehow that made her feel stronger. He wasn't offering her pity. He was offering her strength. Strength and belief and love.

Graeme blinked against the water streaming down his face before lowering his head to kiss her gently, and August pulled herself up to meet him. She tilted her head, deepening the tenderness he had initiated and setting it alight. And then she was clutching his hair, his beard, his chest—grasping at him with her hands that wanted to be everywhere, seeking all of his strength that rippled and tensed under the shirt that now clung to him.

Graeme pulled back and studied her carefully. "I don't want to hurt you further," he said, searching her face.

"You can't," she whispered against him. "You can't, because it's you. Somehow… it's always been you," she said it as if she was marveling to herself as she clutched his hair. "How are you real?" she asked suddenly, causing his dimple to appear. "I mean it. How?"

"I wonder the same about you," he replied before pulling her up closer to him where he could kiss her neck, trailing his soft lips down to the spot he wanted where multiple streams of water united into one warm slide along her skin, and he nipped her there with his teeth.

A rumble began deep in his chest as he gently kissed and sucked that spot, pulling the tenderness of her into his mouth and running his tongue along it. He ached for her. His teeth ached for her, and it ran the length of him. He pulled back, an apology forming in his eyes.

"I love that possessive growl you make," August said, giving him a crooked smile.

"I don't know where that comes from. I just… Goddess, I want you so bad. I'm sorry. It doesn't scare you does it?"

August shook her head. "No, I love it."

"I should have known what was happening today. I should have been here for you right away. I would have if—if…"

"If you had marked me?" Her eyes slid back down to look at his lips and the sharp white canines behind them. Graeme let out a loud sigh and raked a hand down his face before he nodded. "And you want to do it now?" She whispered the question.

He groaned. "Yes. I do. More than anything. I'm sorry," he closed his eyes against the feeling that was still there—the bite that was clawing to get out of him. To finally taste her. To make her safe.

"Then do it," she whispered, clutching the hair at his neck tighter.

"No," he groaned again. "No, not after what you went through. It will hurt. I can't…"

"Graeme," she interrupted, pulling his attention back to her. Her eyes were burning a deep golden like he had never seen before. "I want you," she breathed, tugging him reassuringly towards her. "I want you to mark me. I want to experience that connection with you. No one… no one ever cares what I want," she whispered, and he saw her eyes squint against the truth of it. "Please tell me that what I want matters to you."

Graeme's eyebrows pinched together, and he ran his thumb along her face. Over her golden eyebrows that shone against her skin. Over the blush that formed on her cheeks and grew darker. Over the curve and dip of her top lip as her bottom lip parted from it.

"Are you sure?" he asked and swallowed again.

"Yes," she breathed, never looking away from him. Her legs squeezed around his waist, and he felt all of his bright desire tighten in response to her.

"Goddess, August," he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again. "You need to know. The mark… it's forever. There's no going back." And even as he said it, his eyes opened to focus on her neck that had flushed from his attention earlier. He could have her at last. He could know how she was from afar. She could be safe. She could be his.

"I understand," she said, her voice like velvet and her hand stroking the hair at his neck.

"Through life and death, I am yours. I will follow you," he said in a low gravel, not registering that he was slowly bowing toward her again.

"And I am yours," she said softly as she pulled his head further toward her.

"Are you sure, my love?" She felt the soft puff of his breath as he tilted toward her, and she arched into him.

"Yes, Graeme. I trust you. I love you," she whispered in his ear.

"Hold on to me, darling," Graeme said with ragged breath.

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