83 The Companions

RETH

Every time he stroked her thigh, letting his fingertips trail along her skin, the tiny hairs of her legs stood on end and her skin prickled under his touch. The mating huff rose in his throat. He'd had to swallow it a dozen times already. He was swallowing and scenting like an adolescent at his first mating. It would have been embarrassing, but there were so many people and so much going on, he trusted that most weren't taking the time to single his scent out. He prayed they weren't.

Though it made him grown in frustration, he was almost glad when Behryn stood on his other side and called for quiet. He was forced to take his hand off her, which helped a great deal with his concentration, but less with the fire inside that urged him to touch, and taste, and fill his nose with her. He didn't want to think about anything else.