Chapter Text

Chapter 31 - Lendas  

Brogan swallowed at her words, determined and vulnerable. 

Clara always had a way of somehow balancing her vulnerability with a fire. 

“I think, yes, performing Lendas with someone would be a good idea,” he said carefully. Brogan suddenly felt huge inside her small apartment, his massive back wide as a sequoia, his horns grazing her floor lamp. She was so tiny on the far side of her couch, and yet he feared that his scent would overheat her and she’d become annoyed again. 

“H-how is it done?” she asked, her voice strong. 

“It’s scent-based. "We, uhm, we have to go to a neutral site, in a natural state, blindfolded, we have to smell each other and exchange a garment of some sort,” he said matter-of-factly, controlling his features with a will of iron. Images of her blindfolded in a natural state be damned. 

“Right… yes, I think I remember that.” Clara took a long sip of her lemon tea. 

“Yes.” He thrummed his fingers on his knee. “Normally, a woman would be selecting a man she’s dating,” he added after a long, dry silence. 

She shifted uncomfortably. “Zahuris was really the only guy I was seeing.”

“You don’t know other Minotaurs?”

“Not many outside of work…. Maybe Dean? I’ve been to his lecture before; he’s very knowledgeable about this stuff. Actually, he’s researching it!” She edged closer to the couch, the bouncing effect causing Brogan’s cock to jolt awake again.

“Professor Dean Michaels?” He couldn’t believe that’s who she was, actually fucking considering. The arrogant cocksucker was way too suave for his own damn good. “He’s a client at Morning Glory, too?”

“Mhmm, yeah!”

“Why is he a good fit?” he said, forcing himself to unclench his jaw, to not imagine him with one of Clara’s silky little panties. FUCK. 

“He knows about Lendas, he’s friendly and helpful, he’s researching inter-species mating… I think he’d be willing and also find it fascinating,” she added, somewhat obtusely, utterly oblivious to his internal insanity. 

His years of sitting at a poker table made him want to call her bluff. “Ok, call him. See if he can do it tonight. Because I fear that if this doesn’t happen in 24 hours, with Zahuris’ effect still on you, Zahruis can still show up and take advantage of his magic in your system.”

Clara blushed. 

Bingo. 

"I, uh, don’t have his number.”

“Damn.”

His inner animal practically purred with satisfaction. 

“So is that why you’re here, then?" she asked in her usual clipped tone. “Are you offering yourself as my protector?”

“I came merely to inform.” He sighed and rested his head against the back of her chair, letting his eyes fixate on the ceiling medallion around her light. “I hold no pretense that I am the last minotaur you’d ever be prevailed upon to have as your protector,” Brogan said, borrowing a few lines from Pride and Prejudice. 

Clara blinked back. 

“Ya, well, you’re right!”

“Yes, I’m very aware how right I am,” he said, noting the rise in her anger again. 

“If you came all the way here just so you can smell me and lord your power over me, then no thank you—”

“—Oh, please,” he bit back suddenly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was here as a favor to Violet. 

She got up from the couch and stood behind it. “Well, then, it seems like we’re all done here.”

He grabbed his plate and hers, heading to the kitchen. “Seems so. Glad you’re going to get it all figured out with Professor Dean.” Brogan kept his tone flat and unwavering, but the fire growing in his belly was threatening to tear him in half. 

“Well, you know where the door is—”

“Right. Thanks for the hospitality.” He gave her a seething glare. “I hope you enjoyed the dinner and the books as well.”

She was about to bite back but suddenly seemed to doubt herself. He’d never intended to use those things to bribe her—regret washed over him. He shouldn’t have brought up the gifts. 

“Gifts are gifts, Clara,” he said, his voice suddenly a gentle whisper. “No strings. Just enjoy them. My temper got the better of me.” The final ‘sorry’ hung in the air between them as his mouth went dry… 

Clara opened her mouth to respond when a massive bang was suddenly heard at her door. 

Loud. 

Forceful. 

Without a second thought, he moved her behind him and waited. 

“Clara. Clara! It’s me. Open up.”

They met each other's eyes, knowing: Zahruis. 

“Clara. Why aren’t you responding to my texts? Open the door—now."

She made to move, her eyes already starting to glaze over, but Brogan held her back and shook his head at her slowly: No, no, he seemed to say. You’re not going to that door. 

“Clara, I can see your light is on. Open up.”

Brogan felt her try to tug free of him, but he held her in place against the side of him that faced away from the door.

“Open up. Now!”

Her eyes seemed to shift between a dilated haze to a confused expression. She mouthed, "He never talks to me like that.”

Brogan mouthed back: “He knows he can make you do things.”

It took every sense of will not to rip open the door and destroy Zahuris right before her eyes. But he also knew, in the state that she was in, she’d attack him and hate him even more. 

Better to wait. 

Zahuris pounded a few more times. 

“Clara!”

The next round of pounding made her start shaking against him. Brogan ran a hand down her spine, soothingly. “It’s ok,” he murmured down into her hair. Having her this close, he realized with amazement how much smaller she was… he was nearly two feet taller. 

“Dammit, Clara! Open the fucking door—”

“Hey!” A new voice suddenly called from the hallway. “What is your problem? You’re waking up the whole damn building. Leave!”

Zahuris: “I need to talk to my girlfriend.”

“Stop banging on her door… she’s not home.”

“I know she’s in there,” Zahuris roared. 

“And she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you—”

“—Mind your own business!”

More pounding. 

“Start pounding on that door again, and I'll call the police,” said the neighbor, closing their door. 

Clara was leaning into Brogan, her body softly convulsing. When he looked down at her, tears were streaming down her cheeks—the poor thing is absolutely terrified. Her scent wafted up to his nose; the essence of her was there, but a new scent… strong and acidic mingled through the floral notes. Fear. She was scared. Something about this was frightening her. 

Brogan leaned down. “I can go out there.”

“No,” she whispered, eyes wide as plates, pleading through her tears. “Don’t.”

He stared at her. I need to fucking break that prick in half, he growled internally. 

“It’ll escalate things, and I–I… I felt the tug towards him. I….” Tears streamed down again; Clara buried her face in her hands. 

Brogan’s ears pricked, hearing the fading footsteps outside the door. After a few breaths and stroking Clara’s back, he said, “to the window. Let’s see if he’s actually leaving or just waiting outside.”

Clara nodded. 

“Go to the kitchen to peek, he’ll expect you in the living room.”

She walked to the kitchen and sat on her countertop, bending her head just slightly into the window to watch. 

Brogan moved to the bay window in her living room and stood dead in the middle. The light of the room casting him into shadow to any onlookers from outside, all they would see is his outline, but not his features. 

Zahuris crossed the street. Sure enough, he turned to look at her apartment, and his eyes twisted into fury when he saw the silhouette of a massive, dominant minotaur in her window. Brogan kept his legs apart and his hands in his pockets. He leaned against the side of the window and maintained eye contact, the image of ease.

Immediately, her phone buzzed. 

Clara turned to look at Brogan and then down on the phone by her legs on the counter. 

Zahuris, outside, holding his phone to his ear, his anger starting to consume him. After the 4th ring, voicemail started. “Who the hell is at your place right now, Clara? Is there some fucking minotaur with you? We never talked about being open— this has to be some kind of joke—you need to call me back, now!”

Clara grabbed her phone and turned it off. 

“What the—?” she panted, her fear still washing down her face. “What’s gotten into him?”

Brogan kept in his spot. 

“He knows what he’s doing,” he gritted out, his anger simmering. “He knows that by this time, you should be fully under his magic.”

“I did seriously feel like going to the door and letting him in….” she returned, horrified and shocked at herself. 

“Yes, I saw the way your eyes turned. You’ll be like this for another day or two. That’s why Violet suggested I come speak with you and speak with Zahuris…. You won’t even get a chance to discuss your boundaries with him if you’re under this… fucking… thrall.”

Clara flinched. 

Could she hear the bite in his words? He hoped so. What Zahuris had done had perhaps been one of the worst violations Brogan had ever heard of, breaching consent. Only really backward, fucked-up, archaic, assholes used their magic like that. If he had anything to do with it, this case was going to be taken to the Cambric Creek Council tonight and Zahuris would be ousted. On top of that, his profile would be circulated to every community from the Atlantic to the Pacific… he wouldn’t be welcome anywhere when Brogan would be done with him. He remained at the window and quickly typed out a quick email to his assistant Tamara for her to get the paperwork ready for tomorrow, first thing. 

When Zahuris was gone at last, Brogan turned back to Clara; still sitting on the countertop, back against the wall and eyes lifted up. Her red eyes had dried up, but she looked distant and pained, as though she was reliving memories. 

His heart twisted for her. 

“There was someone else once, wasn’t there?” he asked softly, trying not to sound too gruff. 

She blinked back to awareness and nodded. 

“Someone who tried to control you…like this?”

She nodded again. 

“A human.”

“Yes.”

Brogan would find that asshole too. Whoever had ever tried to touch her would be slowly broken by his own hads if necessary. There was no lendas in the human world, no way to scent a woman and let it be known to others that she was protected like amongst numen… it was all social. It gave him a strange kind of sadness that came over him, seeing here there and thinking of all that made her vulnerable. 

“How do you want to proceed,” he asked her cautiously. 

A muscle in her face tugged at her temple, pulling her into alertness. “I want to take care of this right now.”

He nodded. 

“With you.”

Brogan could feel his heart throbbing in his throat. 

This was going to be a very, very trying night. 

—

Brogan drove Clara all the way to the outskirts of the Town. 

The drive had been quiet, which was fine by her. 

Her anger and fear had abated into a dormant silence, like the way your mind goes blank after crying all night. She nearly did fall asleep a few times, but he gently shook her awake. The bright full moon above shone like gauzy beacon. 

“Nearly there,” said Brogan. 

She wrapped the shawl around herself and nodded. 

In a few minutes he pulled up to a part of Cambric Lake she’d never seen before. 

“This is the Naiads Grove,” he said, “named after the Greek nymphs who were often associated with intimate encounters.”

It was a beautiful space, like a small, calm gulf of the lake, surrounded by soft-leafed trees that diffused the moonlight into shades of lavender and amber. A rock sat out a few feet away from the shore, as though waiting for a mermaid to perch herself atop it. Tendrils of willow wafted in the still waters, not even a whisper of breeze on the surface of the lake. 

“It’s an unusually quiet night,” said Clara, her breath catching in her throat. The only thing she could hear was Brogan’s steady breathing. His tall, massive presence behind her felt like a heated magnet. Never in a million years did she think she’d be performing a mating ritual with him of all numen… but the fear that had struck her when Zahuris came to bang on her door had made the decision for her. 

“Some think this spot is enchanted,” he replied softly, looking outwards to the lake at large. 

“Is this where everyone comes for Lendas?”

“I believe so.”

“Have you come here for Lendas?” Her curiosity piqued into something a little darker. How many times had he brought women here, other female numen? What was he even attracted to, anyway? Probably elves and nymphs; that’s why he likes this spot. Her insides turned a little. 

“No.”

Vague. She huffed. Maybe there were more special, remote spots that he preferred, perverted bastard. Sure, he had protected her earlier, even comforted her, but everything from his arrogant stance to his overconfidence let Clara know that he’d done this a hundred times before. 

Brogan took in a sharp breath, pulling Clara out of her musings. “So. This is about scenting. We uh… strip down…”

“Like all the way?” she asked, her voice hitching. 

“Ideally yes. But maybe a couple undergarments," he said back nonchalantly. 

Shit, she’d not been wearing a bra. Fuck. Fuck!!

“Then, one of us lies down—you—and the male scents the female,” he said. As she blinked at him, he clarified, his voice tinged with annoyance. “He smells her.”

Clara pressed her lips together. The moment was rather weird and intimate. He had to smell her. All the minotaurs at work could already smell her. Why smell her more?!

“For stronger magic, it's better to do this around water,” he said, starting to take off his sweatpants. Clara watched, horrified, as he slid them over his rump and lifted his legs out of them. His ass still covered by a pair of tight briefs, he swayed a bit as he moved to lift his shirt over his head. 

She’d seen him fully naked before, sure. Seen his cock and everything. 

But it felt intrusive to watch him strip like that. 

Without turning or waiting, he started to wade into the water and move toward the rock. 

“Come on, you can lie on this rock, and I can scent you without looming over you,” he said, finally turning toward her. His broad back and chest seemed to blend into the darkness, making him look even more huge. 

Clara clutched her wrap around herself. It wasn’t cold… but this was… a lot. 

“Come, Clara.” He beckoned for her. 

Beneath the inky black waters, she couldn’t tell if he was aroused or not—she didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Turn around,” she instructed. At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Please?”

He considered her and then turned around. 

Slowly, she wiggled out of her shorts and then her top. She stood there, bare toes spread in the lush grass, trying to force herself to move forward, but couldn’t. Brogan waited for her, his hands on the rock… his back taut and muscled. Her eyes traced his spine down to his tapering waist and the muscles there, and her mouth went dry. It felt like he was even more naked than before, and she was also… naked…

Fuck. 

Her heat flared. 

Clara clutched her heavy breasts in her arms, shivering suddenly with nerves. “No, no, no,” she murmured. “He’s going to smell me, fuck, fuck, he’s going to smell—”

Brogan sniffed and turned around suddenly, alarmed, but his eyes darkened as well. 

She could see him gulping, but he managed to say, “It’s—it’s fine. Just come to the water.”

His hand tightened on the rock as she approached. Brogan averted his eyes, but his back stiffened as she stepped into the water.

The lake was a strange kind of wet feeling—more like oil and silk than water. The water coated her skin in a strange opalescent sheen she’d not noticed before, the way it made her skin look pink and gold and violet distracting her for a moment until the scent of him hit her nose too, and her heat flared again. 

Swallowing her embarrassment that fucking Brogan Aldridge, of all numen, was seeing and smelling her like this drove her insane. She was close to bursting a molar from clenching her teeth in anger and nerves. 

For his part, Brogan seemed content to stare at a spot on the rock in the opposite direction from where she moved. And when Clara approached the rock, she was waist-deep and started to climb. She knew he wouldn’t look, but it pissed her off anyway that she couldn’t climb while also covering herself. 

“Ugh, this water is… damn… slippery,” he muttered to herself as she scrambled a bit more. 

“Shall I help you?”

“No!”

His subtle huff of breath didn’t escape her ears, but now was not the time. She pulled herself up to the flat top and sat awkwardly. Breasts in her hands, she pulled her knees as close to her as possible. 

Brogan lifted his eyes to hers. He assessed her intently, with that insane intensity that only Brogan fucking Aldridge could wield.  

“I need to cast a blindfolding charm over our eyes; it’ll only be on for ten or so minutes, ok?”

Clara nodded, aware that heat rose from her as though it were hot steam. His eyes glazed slightly, but he remained firm, strong. 

“You’ll need to lie down on your back. And I will also have a blind fold on—we’re both supposed to have only our scent for this,” he continued, his voice seeming to drop even lower, like a shadow. “And then, I smell you… well, each other… but mostly me. Just all over, so I know the scent of your skin.”

“I-is there touching?” Clara hated that her voice wavered. 

She managed to force herself to look into his eyes, the hazel in them turning into a rich amber, as though he were transforming the colour from within. She realized, seeing them shine now on the lake, that she’d always been so busy she’d never truly looked at his eyes, and as they glowed ever-warmer, her skin began to prickle. She felt her nipples pebble in her palms. 

“I will have to touch your eyes for the blindfolding spell,” he said, nodding. The way his gaze locked in on her was so intense, it made her feel glued to the rock. “Now, lie down. This is going to feel … warm.”

She slowly leaned back, her one hand trying to cover her massive, plump breasts. Clara tried to focus on the glittering constellations above, the clusters of mauve nebula deep out in space that somehow seemed so clear all the way out here in Cambric Creek, but her entire body was hyperaware of Brogan. How her breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath, how she only wore a pair of white panties that were soaked and clinging to her now. 

When his fingers came to graze across her eyes, closing them, a shiver raced down her spine. He spoke soft, low words she didn’t understand and suddenly, it was like her eyelids were too heavy to lift… The soundlessness of the lake surrounded her like a deep unknown. All that remained for her was the sound of their shared breathing and the sudden keen awareness of Brogan’s masculine scent. 

He had that strange, unique scent that always came with high-end perfumes. They were never singular scents like pine or tobacco but instead a strange, rich blend of spices she didn’t know: earthy and primitive. He smelled like masculinity itself, strong lines, hard stares, he smelled like sex and sweat and the elements somehow too. 

Clara hated how her breasts seemed to harden even further at registering his scent. 

She was already in this mess because of him—the heat was entirely his fault. And that was probably why Zahuris had become such a brute around her; before her heat, he’d been gentlemanly… or maybe he was just calculated?

Fuck Zahuris, the little devil on her shoulder said. Forget him.

I can’t forget him… he’s… he’s…special, her mind thought absently, but she warred with herself. 

The devil snorted at her. Mind-addled little fool—he manipulated you, Hello! His magic is still in you. Give Brogan some time to overpower it and extract it.

No! Clara felt furious, but her logical mind knew what was going on. Nevertheless, she felt furious. Zahuris’ magic is mine now!

Ya right, scoffed the devil. You heard Brogan. He’d have you doing who-knows-what if he could right now. Remember how he banged on your door?

Clara’s mind filled with the image. At first it was like he was close to knocking the door off its hinges. She’d leaned into Brogan, scared. But on second thought, Zahuris had actually asked nicely. He was worried about her, right? Worried he hadn’t gotten a text back…’Please let me in, Clara, I miss you baby.’

That is not at all how he said it; stop being stupid and pay attention. That midnight-earthy smell is to die for!

Clara breathed in. It was heavenly, deep, and dark. She breathed in again, and it made her writhe with desire.

Do you know what this smell is?

Uhhh? She responded. 

Pure masculinity. This is the smell of a minotaur who fucks, takes, and gives it so good that women completely forget their self-respect around him.

Clara wanted to roll her eyes, but as she felt him lean closer to her, his nose nearing the crook of her neck, she nearly moaned as she bucked her hips slightly.

That’s what I thought, said the voice smugly. 

Shut up! Clara bit back, self-conscious at her own reaction. 

She could just imagine that devilish imp inside her shrugging nonchalantly. 

Brogan inhaled her deeply. She wished she could see his body language and gauge whether he enjoyed her scent or not. The unknown was killing her. She hadn’t even had a chance to fucking shower before this! And she’d practiced some dance moves before he showed up… she probably stank!

Trust me, he likes it, said the devil. 

That comment made her want to spread her legs, but she settled for rolling her hips again, squeezing her tits. 

Men who are great in bed like natural scents; they react to pheromones. You could run a marathon, and this minotaur would shove his snout in your pussy and breathe in like he would die without it. 

Stop!

She felt her pussy squeeze and gush. Scared that Brogan would notice, Clara shoved away the devil and prayed for the angel instead. But, as soon as that innocent voice popped up, she regretted it too. 

Oh my gosh! Oooooh my gosh!

Stop freaking out! I need you to distract me!

The little angel seemed to huff, like she was already overstimulated. Distract you? He’s practically nuzzling your hip, he’s so close to—oh gosh! I can’t look!

Useless, thought Clara, annoyed. She needed someone to talk to, anything to take her mind off this. 

Her skin seemed to tingle… almost like the sensation of losing feeling in a limb after sitting too long but more pleasant, arousing… like tiny sparks.

But Brogan’s nearness was overwhelming. He almost seemed to glow with his body heat, drawing her in. He was near her left thigh, and all she wanted to do was edge closer to his scent. She felt him rise out of the water, and suddenly, searing hot water droplets sprinkled onto her pelvis, and she knew his snout was right at her pussy. 

“Oh my God,” she yelped. 

—

Brogan’s snout hovered above her hips. He was so aroused, his cock was digging into the stone, threatening to cleave it in two. 

Her neck had smelled so sweet and delicate, her arms as well… He didn’t even dare linger near her breasts, worried he’d slip and lose it. 

The darkness at his eyes was nothing to him… the way he could smell her so closely now, and combined with how her heat radiated from her body, his mind built a mental image of her like a glowing figure. He knew exactly where he was in relation to her without needing his eyes. 

And he was above her pussy. 

He inhaled loudly and sighed. 

Fuck.

A sensation of tingling scattered across his skin like dots of electricity. 

That delicious plump mound, clad in white, wet underwear. He’d taken a glance at it briefly as she’d come up, the material clinging to her cleft and clit—he needed someone to slap him,hard. 

Now and then, he whispered, “Lendas-le,” casting the ancient words that imprinted her scent into the fibre of his mind, his body, his mouth, and his soul. She’d forever be unforgettable to him. 

He wondered if she could hear his whispers. Brogan could feel her trembling; he knew her thin fingers clutched at her luscious tits and that she was fighting with herself a little bit. But with each sniff, she seemed to calm down.

But as he moved even closer to her, he could feel her writhing beneath him. 

A slow smirk edged his lips. 

That’s right, he thought. Move your hips for me. Let that scent simmer and flow. 

Almost as though he’d summoned it, he suddenly caught the heady, musky scent of her arousal, and a deep groan escaped him. It was like the vision in his mind turned from gold to red. He lowered his snout as close as he could to her without touching and inhaled.

Fuck!

He inhaled again as his skin tingled more. 

Fuck! He thought, almost panicked. Fuck her, bury yourself in her. Take her virginity, now!

Brogan pulled away, panting, and lowered himself into the water again. He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his heart. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not right now, not when she was vulnerable and needed his protection. 

Knowing he shouldn’t, he briefly took his cock out. It sprang free like a rabid dog, itching to plummet into Clara’s moist heat, cum leaking out of him. 

He always had a leaking problem around her. 

He tried to drag his cock back in his briefs, but after a few failed attempts, he sighed, wiped his eyes off the spell and let his cock stand straight up into his abdomen, caught by his boxers… His cock was too stubborn to listen. 

Before he could stop himself, he looked up and saw her lying there. 

That pale ivory skin, glowing lavender under the moonlight. Her fiery red waves splayed on the rock, looking like it was self-illuminated. And as his eyes traced down, past her round, doll-like face, to her breasts…

More leaking. 

Shit. Blindfold, shit. 

The way her fingers dug into her flesh, like it was too much boob for her small hands, plump and heavy… He quickly swiped at his eyes again and submerged back into the darkness. His breathing was ragged; he was nearly trembling when he lowered his nose down to her again. 

She’d cum. 

Clara had definitely cum, or maybe it was just heightened arousal, but he could smell it on her, smell the fluid soaking her panties. 

Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the scent and how close he was… the smallest flick of his tongue—No! He wouldn’t. He quickly drifted his nose up her right side, hovering near the lush thighs he’d stared at earlier that night, when the desire to sink his fingers into her had overtaken his thoughts. Up to her waist and then… 

His snout was just above her plump tits.

Brogan prayed he wouldn’t drool. 

How often had he fantasized about her perfect, pale, massive tits? Bouncing on him, enveloping his snout or his cock… sucking on her nipples…

Clara’s hands covered her nipples still, though he could feel that under him, she was sensitive to his movement and his scent, apparently; it was taking hold of her. 

“Lendas le,” he murmured. 

Her soft voice husked out, “L-Lendas le.”

He nodded, smiling, his nose nearly pressing into the other side of her neck, grazing her ear and into her hairline… the desire to bury his face in her hair clouded his mind. But he pushed through. Brogan was entirely aware of how many pheromones and small nerves in her scalp, and he shuddered, wondering what it would be like to have her hair splayed on his chest as she—

No. He told himself. Control yourself. 

“Lendas le,” he murmured again against her hair. 

Clara writhed again; this time, the tingling he felt across his skin was so intense it made him shake. An electric current that made him hard and wild.  

“I have to smell all the covered parts of you,” he murmured. 

“W-why?”

“To complete the protection spell,” he said.

“I-I…” she hesitated, her voice trembling. Brogan knew she was also being sprinkled with the sensation of magic on her skin. “You’re still blindfolded, right?”

“Yes. I’ll remain blindfolded the entire time,” he whispered back, hoping to sound firm and reassuring. 

He sensed her hands moving out of the way, slowly, tentatively. 

When his snout was just above her first nipple, the mewling groan Clara released reluctantly made him spurt a jet of cum against the rock. Her nipples had a unique scent all on their own; her smell mixed with something other, warm and sweet. Brogan wondered if it would be the possibility of milk… though thinking about that wasn’t helping him right now. 

“Lendas le,” he whispered against her nipple. 

She moaned and rotated her hips again. “Lendas le,” she breathed softly. 

A sprinkling of electricity scattered across them again. 

Brogan moved to the other nipple, letting the moonlight glide on his back. He inhaled deeply, and again, more cum oozed out of him. Thank God she couldn’t tell. “Lendas le,” he murmured, barely keeping it together, his hands gripping the stone with his last vestiges of power he had, trying not to touch her, spook her. 

“Lendas le,” Clara moaned, utterly lost to the magic infusing itself into her skin. 

“I need one more area.” The last word stuck in his throat. Every morsel of his body was held so tightly in control, he somehow suspected tomorrow he would be sore. 

“...No. I can’t,” said Clara, her voice breathy and shocked. 

“This is the last part. I promise not to touch, and I cannot see anything.”

He moved away from her, letting her have some space as he adjusted his body. He’d been blindfolded so long in this darkness that he could hear a bird perch on a branch above and could almost feel the thin clouds in the night sky tracing against the darkness. 

“It’s too much…”

“Clara. We’ve come this far…”

She was still and silent for several moments. Her breathing was erratic and uneven. While he waited patiently for her, he tried again to calm his mind and force his erection to abate. Despite all his efforts and attempts to imagine strange things, he remained fixated on her scent and what it all meant. 

He could almost hear the oily blackness of the lake now, like the muffled purl of a different kind of current within the lake. Brogan’s chest heaved with deep breaths, uncertain if he wanted to get this over with fast or to stay here next to Clara and smelling her forever. At least with the former, he could take her home and then take care of himself when he got to his own place. 

She sighed. “Fine.” Then added quickly, “Please don’t look.”

“I promise.”

He moved there to hover above, and when the scent hit him, Brogan knew he was absolutely fucked. 

Fuck her! Use her. That virginity is yours now—take it!

He tried to control his primitive thoughts, but they overtook him. 

Bury your thick cock in her, stretch her pussy out—she wants it! Breed her!

It was worse than the day he’d first laid eyes on Amelie in France. He’d become obsessed with her, nearly hunting her down in his desire to be with her. But this…was a new duality. 

On one hand, he was overwhelmed with his inner beast's need to finalize this ritaul but having her right here on this rock, consent be damned. And simultaneously knowing you’d never see another person again, no other female mattered. Clara was it, the final woman—the final female. No one else would do. 

No one else existed. 

His cock was hers. 

He panted like a dog in heat as he inhaled, barely able to murmur the sacred words over her mound. She repeated them back, and hearing her voice made his heart ache. 

She was it.

As he returned to the water, his skin alight with the magic that kissed the surface before sinking into his muscles, Brogan removed his magical blindfold and hers. His wide eyes took her in, and he wondered if she could see the fear in his expression, the pure terror there. 

Had she sensed it too?

She blinked her eyes open and gingerly got up, her gorgeous hands cupping her heavy tits. Brogan saw the golden magic sinking into her skin. She trembled delightfully. He wanted to be the one to make Clara tremble like that. 

“Are you… alright,” he asked, trying to ease his panting. Every molecule in him wanted to hold her, kiss her, take her home, and keep her forever. 

She breathed heavily as well, but Clara nodded. “I’m fine.”

Images of him carrying her to his bed swiftly fluttered through his mind, but he shoved his desires away and asked, “Feeling different?”

“Just… just like my skin is buzzing.”

He nodded, trying to look down into the black, inky lake, giving her some privacy. “That means it worked.” More images of her nuzzling her head into his shoulder… he had to repress those too. 

“Is that it?” she asked, starting to move towards re-entering the lake. “I thought there was one last thing.”

He stopped dead in his tracks on the way to the shore. 

“There’s the exchange of personal scented items.”

He could practically feel her get aroused and annoyed simultaneously now that the magic linked them a little. Brogan could never manipulate her heat or her desire, but he’d always know what she wanted and what she felt. 

“Pardon? Like what exactly?”

“Anything of yours that carries your scent,” he said flatly, fully knowing that she was somewhat freaked out by the suggestion. “Couples usually exchange lingerie, for example.”

Clara stopped moving down the rock, blinking at him. 

“You want my… what?! You want me to give you my bra?”  

“That’s not necessary,” he said, trying to stay calm. Clara had said she’d read about this… Had their Lendas altered her memory suddenly? “I will give you my shirt,” he said casually, reaching for the shore. 

Brogan let the night air dry him as he stared back at her, then quickly darted his eyes away. She was fucking perfect even when she was heated about something. 

She looked like a fiery little angel sitting on that rock, her hair flowing over her arms and chest. 

“Well… I can’t give you my shirt; I don’t have a bra,” she said, half annoyed with him and half with herself. “And my pants are… old. Fuck.”

He set his jaw and said nothing. Brogan didn’t want to push. This had been one of the most enchanting, riveting, sensual nights of his life; the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it—for himself and for this absolute angel… this gorgeous, mouthy angel. She deserved to have a positive memory of this, too. 

“You can give me something later. Or nothing at all. Honestly, it’s fine,” he said lightly, starting to pull up his sweatpants, leaving his torso bare. “I’d love for you to have my shirt, because, well, with the magic and my scent on it, it can help soothe you from time to time.”

She pressed her lips together and stared at him, her big eyes rounded with understanding of his consideration. 

“Could you please turn around?” she asked, her tone soft again. 

He turned immediately. 

Brogan’s ears pricked at her movements and huffs as she descended the rock and waded back to shore. Clara dressed quickly behind him. 

“Ok. Done.”

When he turned around, he took in her mussed hair and roughly assembled clothes and smiled. Clara was adorable. 

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he said.

The drive back was even quieter. Both of them were awake and abuzz from the ritual. The sensations still played on Brogan’s skin, and he could tell that Clara, too, was trying to manage the frisson winding around her body. Somehow she seemed softer than normal—she’d never been fully comfortable and relaxed around him, and even now, there was a stiffness in her, but still, he could sense a kind of ease. Her spine was less stiff, her hands gripping her clothes less tightly. 

A small smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. 

Seeing Clara relaxed and happy was his newest obsession. 

He pulled up in front of his apartment, the car humming lowly against the warm pavement. 

“Wait,” he said, holding a hand out to stop her. Brogan checked the surroundings, but Zahuris was nowhere to be found. “He’s not here.”

He got up, opened the car door for her, and held out his hand to help her out. 

Clara actually took it and went to the door before turning around and saying, “Brogan?”

She’d said his name. Nicely. Kindly. 

He merely inclined his head towards her, not sure he could manage speaking. 

“Thank you… for this.”

He nodded and murmured, “Of course,” not sure what his expression conveyed to her; he was an absolute bundle of nerves and thoughts. 

She lowered her head and ambled inside quickly. 

The last thing he saw was a flash of that bright hair. 

Brogan returned to the car, waiting to see the light in her apartment turn on, when suddenly he spotted something out of the corner of his eye: white. 

She’d left him her panties.