Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Her little mouth keeps suckling even after I remove the nipple, so I stroke her lips with my pointer and let it slide between them, allowing her to suck on my finger.
Fuck, she’s precious. My heart is hers already. Being careful not to jostle her too much, I rise again and head back toward the bedroom. My girl’s face scrunches when I remove my finger from her mouth, but a few seconds later, I locate a pacifier and pop it between her lips.
I’m gifted the most contented sigh as she resumes sucking, her body relaxing against my chest as I snuggle her closer. As a lion shifter, my body temperature is higher than hers, so I’m keeping her warm. She’ll always find comfort in climbing onto my lap or snuggling against me when we sleep. She’ll never be cold as long as I’m nearby.
Every inhale draws her into me, endearing her to me more with each passing moment. I know nothing about this Little mate of mine, and yet I already adore her.
There are a million possible problems here. I’m grateful to see that she isn’t wearing a human wedding band. That’s promising. She has on no jewelry at all. Her ears are pierced, but she isn’t wearing earrings. No necklace, ring, or bracelet.
Maybe she doesn’t wear much jewelry, or maybe someone stole it from her. I lift one of her feet to examine it closer. Her nails are trimmed but not painted. Her soles are soft. She absolutely wasn’t running in the woods. There isn’t a single cut on the bottoms of her feet.
Her hair is thick and reaches past her shoulders, but it’s been trimmed recently.
My mate may have been hungry enough to guzzle down her bottle, but she hasn’t gone without food before today. She’s not emaciated or gaunt.
Her skin is soft. She isn’t wearing makeup, which is unusual for human females but not unheard of. Maybe she hadn’t put any on yet today or doesn’t care for it. She doesn’t need it. Her lashes are long, thick, and dark. Her cheeks and lips are pink.
The more I look at her, the more stunning I realize she is. I can’t resist pulling the blanket back a few inches to see her soft breasts and tummy. I recall there’s no evidence of sexual assault between her legs, so whoever cut her didn’t force themselves on her today.
I’m baffled. Nothing adds up.
Bundling my mate up closer to my chest, I resume watching her suckle the pacifier. It’s keeping her calm, which I’m grateful for. I don’t like the thought of her being in distress.
After a while, there’s a knock at the door, and I carefully rise, keeping my Little girl bundled close to me as I stride toward the front of the room. I’m not surprised someone has come to check on me.
I open the door to find Quinn on the porch. He takes one look at my mate and smiles. “So it’s true.”
I nod, a grin spreading across my face.
Quinn chuckles. “She’s okay?” He keeps his tone barely above a whisper, which I appreciate. “I heard she was badly injured.”
“She’ll recover. She needs rest and nourishment,” I say softly.
“Good. We’ll keep things running while you tend to her. I just wanted to check on you and let you know. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thank you.”
Quinn turns and jogs down the steps, heading across the clearing.
I didn’t let him get more than a glimpse of her. He saw her hair and perhaps her profile but nothing else. Suddenly I feel fiercely possessive. It’s unexpected. As lion shifters, our species isn’t known for worrying about nudity.
Though none of the twelve of us are mated, we all remember life within our extended pride from before we left to establish our own separate pride. Our mothers and other females were not particularly modest. Perhaps they were at some point in their lives before they were claimed and mated to lion shifters, but that would have been decades ago. Over time, they stopped being concerned about their exposed breasts. Weather permitting, females in our extended pride would often be found shirtless.
For reasons I can’t understand, I don’t feel inclined to expose my mate to any of my brothers. I’m not interested in exposing even the soft swells of her breasts. Her body is mine. Mine to worship. Mine to protect. Mine to conceal.
As I head back into the house and shut the door, I return to my bedroom to rummage through my supplies. I find a soft shirt and set it aside. I’ll put it on her before I accept visitors or take her from the house.
For now, I’ll enjoy her skin against mine. We’re alone. I don’t intend to put her down anytime soon.
As I return to my spot in the living room, I can’t believe my good fortune. Sure, I have a million questions, and I’m worried about the answers, but one thing is clear. This petite female is my mate forever and always.