Page 41 of Salt and Knot

He groans, and the next moment, he’s crushing me to him. My body responds to him, and I’m instantly flooded with slick between my legs. The rightness of being with him flows into me like waves.

“My little omega mate. You’re everything I’ve been dreaming of and never thought I’d have. But you’re in for it now.” He grips my hips, and moves me with effortless strength, holding me on the head of his massive cock.

The next second, he’s pulled me down onto him, ramming up at the same time so I take him entirely in one stroke. He’s far bigger in his shifted form, and I cry out because the stretch is sudden. But my body gives, adjusting, taking him, and it’s just pleasure as he moves inside me, deeper with every thrust.

“I’m going to fuck you, knot you, and bite you to claim you as my bonded mate.” There’s no hesitation or question in that harsh statement. He pushes me on him. “Open for me.”

He’s filling me entirely and I cling to him as best I can as he rails me. I tip my head back, offering my neck.

I’m being held by tentacles as well as his hands, and he slides a tentacle between our bodies, suckering it onto my clit.

Then another has wrapped around my breasts.

There’s no warning. He demands my pleasure. The orgasm is ripped from me within seconds, my body already ready and waiting for him.

“Mine,” he growls. Then just as he shoves past my resistance to knot me, he brings his lips to my neck. His knot puts pressure on my clit and it blasts ecstasy out in waves. I moan. He jets seed into me, convulsing as he fills me up.

Then he bites down. And it’s more, again. Like an orgasm but a hundred times stronger. I collapse with the intensity of it.

He’s shaking beneath me, and I’m almost boneless with how good it is.

His purr comes through his mouth, and vibrates through me. We’re joined in so much more of an intimate and close way. His knot in me, of course, but his arms around me, his tentacles. And his teeth—sharp and painless, pressure. It’s the sweetest moment.

I chirp. Softly.

He purrs more intensely, and the pleasure flows between my neck and where his cock spears into me.

We stay like that, hearts in sync, the bliss pulsing to and fro. It’s primal. The love that is between us is a physical thing, connecting and solidifying.

Mated. Bonded. Forever.

Chapter 22

Isla

One month later

“Are you sure this is okay?” I tug on the dress again. It’s a gorgeous pale-sea-blue mixed with green, and shimmers in the light. In the shop it looked stunning, and when Dylan saw me in it, his eyes flashed the purest blue I’ve ever seen them. But now, as we’re walking into the bleak, remote castle that we’ve come miles inland to reach, I’m not sure if it’s too much. “I don’t want your friends to think…”

“They will think that you’re very pretty, and know you’re mine, and they’ll be respectful and friendly.” Dylan stops and looks down at me, tipping my chin up with two fingers until I have to meet his gaze. “You are my mate, and you’re beautiful. I’d be proud to have you at my side wearing anything, but this was your choice, and it’s perfect.”

I look into Dylan’s eyes, as I’ve started to do over the last month, whenever I’m nervous. They’re bright, pale-blue. He doesn’t hide his emotions from me. He can’t. I know when he’s feeling sad, because it makes his eyes darker and greyer, almost descending to black.

And if I’m hiding a bit from him, is it really that strange? Over the last month our bond has strengthened, and grown into something that’s undeniably love, though neither of us have said the words. And it’s difficult to explain the sensation of something being missing when you’re mated to a billionaire alpha who adores you, living by the sea in luxury, and spoiled with knotting sex and orgasms morning, day, and night.

But his kraken side has become the elephant in the room. Or the kraken in the cove. Because each day that goes past, I long for Dylan’s monster-side more, and I don’t think Dylan realises, much as he feels my emotions.

And I feel his. The low rumble of his aching kraken side, included.

I stroke the healed scar of my bonding bite, drawing reassurance from it even though Dylan is at my side. Going inland feels wrong. Apparently, I’m a creature of the sea now, too.

Dylan told me that these meet ups tend to have a hint of being an “event”, since they only have them once a year. He’s wearing a suit in a navy-blue, and an open collared white shirt. He definitely has a formal naval vibe, but not one that could be defined.

“You’re sure they won’t mind me being⁠—”

“Certain,” Dylan cuts me off. “You’re my mate. You’re a part of me. I can’t leave you behind, and they wouldn’t want me to.”

Even so, it’s intimidating.