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“No commitment. No mating. Just having fun in the furs. No hearts involved.” S’bren shakes his head. “It is already too late, P’nee. I lost my heart to you long ago.”
"You're not going to spend all night between my legs—" "Why not?" I want to squirm with frustration. "Because…you'll get bored." He snorts, the sound loud and dismissive. "To think I was worried I would not compare to human male pleasure mates. I see I was very wrong about this."
R’jaal steps forward. “I am torn, my clan brother. You disappoint me. We all want mates, but this is not the answer.” “R’hosh stole his mate,” M’tok answers, pretending to study his fingers. “V’za told us.” “What?” R’hosh stiffens and scans the group for V’za. The elder stands near G’hail, holding their kit, and gives us a panicked look. “Is this true, V’za?” V’za looks at me and M’tok, then back to R’hosh. “Rukh stole his.” “That is beside the point,” R’hosh begins even as his mate coughs into her hand, her face red and her shoulders shaking. “Hassen stole his,” V’za continues. “And—”
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I giggled
might occasionally toss you down a gift package when I swing through this end of space, but don’t expect too much.
Dumb
