WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series Alana Khan (i like reading TXT) 📖

“You’re not inspiring confidence, Bayne.”

“On Skylose, mates in my tribe have sex, and during sex the male bites the female. It’s at that moment the two develop a mindlink they share for eternity. The few males of my tribe who mated with Skylosian non-shifters turned their mates into shifters this way.”

He pauses a moment for that thought to sink in. He’s still waiting for my response, but nothing is sinking in. Mindlink? Is that a psychic connection? Okay, that might be cool. Didn’t I envy Dr. Drayke and Nova? I saw them working on Bayne and thought it was amazing how they communicated wordlessly like a well-oiled machine.

But shifting? I’d be a . . . dog? A very big dog? I remember the pain he was in after he shifted on Aeon II.

“Will it hurt?”

“To be honest, I don’t know if you’ll shift. You’re not from Skylose. I don’t even know if we’ll develop the mindlink.”

I look at my sweet mate as we sit at the little corner table in the cabin we share. Could I love him any more than I already do? I can’t imagine it. Would I change even one thing about him if I could? Absolutely not. If he came to me as a mate without his inner canine, would that be better? No! Instead of making our relationship richer, it would be poorer, by far.

I love all of our differences—his pointed ears, those canine teeth, his pelt of fur. If this is the way of his people, then it will be my way, too. I secretly hope the shift doesn’t hurt, but if it does, I’ll embrace that too. The sacrifices I’m willing to make for him will be my way of declaring my deep and abiding love for him.

“I already said yes to being your mate, Bayne. But now that you’ve given me full disclosure I give full consent. I’d be honored.”

I never thought his eyes could look more golden, but they do. They shine brightly for me.

“Part of the mating is for you to tell this to WarDog,” he says seriously.

I’m surprised. I’ve never been sure how much Bayne understands in his canine form—how sentient he is.

“I’m all-in,” I tell him with a smile and a nod.

Bayne steps out of his chair, removes his clothes, crouches, then turns into my favorite hound. I recall the first shift I witnessed, when he morphed from canine to humanoid in the dark catacombs on Aeon II. It was painful and left him panting on the filthy floor.

This shift is easy, and a happy two-hundred-pound animal greets me with a huge canine smile. He wanders over, sits between my feet, and puts his front paws in my lap. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s looking at me expectantly. As momma used to say, ‘somebody’s home and the lights are on’. There’s a smart being inside that shaggy head.

“I love you, WarDog.” I don’t feel silly saying this. In fact, it feels right.

He licks the back of my hand where I’m holding his paw, then nuzzles me with the depth of affection he’s shown me since the first moment we met on that abominable slaver ship. I might not have received all the love he gave me from the start, but I realize he’s always bombarded me with it.

“I’m going to be so happy to be your mate, too.”

He chuffs, then as quickly as he appeared, Bayne reappears.

I’m not even sure how I wind up on his lap. But I’m here in the heavenly warmth of his embrace. His cock kicks hard at my hip, and his mouth devours me, his tongue excavating the warm depths of my mouth.

We’ve been honeymooners for days—or as he would say, sweetmooners—exploring each other, learning each other's secret places, how to prolong our ecstasy, and the words that elevate the mundane to the incendiary.

Somehow I think we’re about to take our physical relationship to a whole new level, although I wonder how that’s even possible.

I straddle him in the small chair, not caring for either of our comfort, needing only some means of getting closer. His jutting cock presses the seam of my sex as I ride him, my fingers biting into the pelt on his shoulders.

Sex is different with Bayne. I love the delight he bestows, but he’s the first sex partner I’ve had where his pleasure is infinitely more important to me than my own.

“Tell me what you want, Love,” I demand as I arch my back, thrusting my breasts in his face. He has to be able to see my hardened nipples through my bra and t-shirt. “Want it hard? Soft? Fast? Slow? Quiet? Or do you want words?”

He gives me that lambent look that hints WarDog is as close to the surface as his inner being can get. I’m mating them both. I understand it now. I embrace it.

Instead of a verbal answer, he shows me as his calloused palm caresses my nape, his head bends to my level, and he kisses me as long and sweet and slow as two people can kiss.

Slow and silent—I get it. That’s what he wants, that’s what he shall have. My tongue greets his with lingering, heartfelt strokes. What’s going on above the waist is achingly sweet and intimate. What’s going on below the waist, however, is carnal as I feel every pull and drag of his hardened cock on my clit.

One minute more of this, two at the most, and I’ll be announcing my first orgasm of the evening with a moan—and I’m still fully clothed.

He knows the minutiae of my response cycle better than lovers I’ve had for years. Maybe he’s more attentive than anyone I've ever shared a bed with, or maybe it’s that canine nose. It doesn’t matter, I want