Salair closed his eyes as he instinctually plunged deep in the stroke-rhythm of Incarnation. Then, he pulled back until the rim of his thick erection tugged at the edge of her opening from the inside, teasing against the snug fit. When he bore down eight
shallow, the shorter motions quickened Snow for longer penetration. The pattern repeated over and over until their energies entwined and rose together to the next level.
In this manner, he effortlessly brought her to the second tier.
Seven strokes shallow. Two deep.
Snow almost relaxed into the repetitive cadence, the slow building torture, when Salair shifted their position. He twisted about with her in his arms, resting back against a rock ledge under the falls. With his weight balanced, he cupped her bottom and lifted her, sliding her up and down his shaft in the same measured manner.
Snow soon became impatient and tried to speed up her movements on him, but he held her firm to the ancient tempo.
{No. Like this. You must let me lead this dance, my impatient cat.}
She nipped his square chin. "Who said I was impatient?" she responded in a breathy voice. "I am simply trying to get you to–
Oh!"
He ran his nails lightly over her extended nipples. It was the kind of
scratch
that was guaranteed to elicit a certain reaction during the second tier. Snow arched back, clutching his shoulders, her long hair trailing into the swirling water. She immediately crested, the surging release slamming into her. The intense contractions surprised her, throwing her completely off stride.
But Salair remained steadfast. His thrusts, true and on the mark. Snow wondered at the man's ironclad stamina. She would soon learn that a Familiar’s endurance was legendary.
Salair was very experienced–as her contractions began to subside he seamlessly led her into the third tier.
Six shallow. Three deep.
Snow's heartbeat suddenly sped up. Her skin flushed red. A sultry beat seemed to spread through her entire body.
As if her blood itself were replaced by warm spice. It was a strange magick. Instead of wanting him less after each crest, she wanted him
more
. His beat picked up, and the rite took on a trance-like quality. Even following the proscribed patterns, Salair was
wilder
. He flipped her position, dropping her legs from around his waist, turning her toward the rocky ledge.
"Bend forward," he snarled. He bit her shoulder sharply and wedged his thigh between hers, swiftly embedding himself in her hot channel. Without once losing his pacing.
That
was expertise.
But, it was a bit alarming.
Snow started to wonder if it were possible for a male to go feral during the Incarnation.
Salair's forearms came over hers on the ledge, hemming her in.
Without a pause, he tossed her long hair over his own shoulders–and clamped down the back of her neck with his teeth. He sank into her with
three deep thrusts.
The long, embedding strokes almost lifted her off her feet.
"Salair!"
His hand pressed against her lower stomach pulling her snug to him as he stroked
six shallow
. The deep thrusts were devastating–but the shallow motions made her entire body burn with fire as his manhood pumped back and forth in the half-strokes that were designed to ignite.
And, oh, they did.
Snow let out a ragged cry.
"Push back into me," he prompted, clasping her in a scalding grip.
"Yes."
When she did, a low rumble thrummed through his chest in a deep, satisfied
purrrrrr
. He rewarded her by grazing her thighs with a
scratch
that levied intermittent pressure points along each sensitive receptor. In response, her slick juices drenched him with a thick, satiny rain.
He growled uninhibitedly.
And released the cat inside.
It has been said that felines are mysterious hunters; that they are extraordinarily sensuous creatures who live for the thrill of the experience. . . And all of this would be true. But for Salair Ner–who often lived on this wild side, and often tasted unleashed pleasures–this did not begin to define him. He was a man who gave and received without apology. He was in his
third
Incarnation. He had seen and experienced much.
So when his full cat-self released upon Snow, she was quite unprepared for the sheer
intensity
of it. Salair
bit, coaxed, growled, hissed
, and
purrred
his way at her. He found a hundred ways to
pleasure-scratch
without breaking skin–Then he found a hundred more. He surged in and out, commanding her to do things she had not even dared to fantasize about.
And she did them for him.
Snow did not shrink from his spontaneity; she embraced it.
She had found her "other" self and she held on fast. He had found his match, and he held on fast. When they reached the fifth tier, Snow was as mindless as he.
She was aware they had reached the seventh tier only by the elemental rhythm of his thrusts.
He was seven deep and two shallow
.
She could not seem to catch any breath. . .!
He turned her yet again.
How many positions had he taken her in? She had lost count.
How much time had passed? She had no idea.
Her back was to the outcropping now. He kissed her hard and fast, then tossed her legs over his shoulders, taking a moment to run his white teeth over the arch of her foot. His nails skimmed across the other arch simultaneously. Snow whimpered in ecstasy, but the truth of the matter was that she was getting tired. Unlike other Familiar women, she had not had much experience before undergoing the Incarnation with her mate.
Salair sensed her energy levels were starting to decrease. He bit the back of her heel sharply. It was a trick to spur his female's lagging spirits with a rallying nudge. It seemed to work, for she immediately took offense.
"What was that for?!" She asked him an annoyed expression.
(Ah, she lives.}
He prodded her, rather unwisely.
"Is that a fact? And who do you think has been engaged with you, step by step, suffering through your–"
{Suffering?}
"Hmph!"
He nipped her bottom lip, then suckled enticingly at the spot.
{How arrogant you males are! There is nothing a Familiar male can give that I cannot also match.}
"I am glad to hear that,
Softcat
," he teased in a smoky whisper.
Then he enhanced.
Snow reared up on the balls of her feet and screamed at the vibrational sensation.
{Salair!}
"Did you not just say you could take anything I could give?" He sent her another strong jolt.
"Please! Please!"
His teasing had a method. They were about to enter the final tiers. He thought it best to give her a preparatory introduction to it. For no matter her pleas, they could not stop now.
He was at his most vulnerable.
The Incarnation was a ceremony of sheer resilience and endurance that led to gifted renewal. Once the final process was engaged and the metamorphosis had begun, if Salair stopped for any reason he might not survive. There could be no holding back.
Snow’s strong contractions could send him over–something he could not allow to happen. It was crucial that he not release until he had crested the ninth and final tier. He rolled with her onto the rocky ledge under the falls. When they finally entered the ninth tier, both were breathing erratically. Now the final phase began in earnest. Nine strokes
long.
Nine stokes
deep.
Nine
surges
of enhancement
.
He pounded into her with his full power and drive. Snow gasped as the real force of the surges hit her, her fingernails making red lines down his back. "Salair," she choked out weakly, next to his ear. "It is too much. . ." She needed his help. Salair arched his back, fused his mouth to hers and
hissed
into her throat, giving her the last of his depleted energy as his life's breath. Tiny pulses of light began to circle them as the vital levels rose to incredible heights. Salair knew that if he were to do what he had planned, it would have to be now. It would be extremely risky.
Nevertheless, he believed that the potential reward far outweighed the risk. The light pulses encircling them would continue to amass in number and frequency until Incarnation was achieved. At that point in time, the male would encompass his mate in his pure energy state.
During certain Incarnations, a Familiar could take his mate with him through the change and he could gift her with renewal. Turn back time itself for her for an entire decade. But, Salair wanted to give Snow with something more. . . The injuries she had suffered at such a young age had made her forget how to change into her cat self. She had no way of even conceptualizing it. Without the ability to witness another shapeshifter metamorphose, she was forever denied the knowledge of what it meant to be Familiar. She was cruelly denied so much of her true nature!
Salair prayed that if he were strong enough he might–
might!
– be able to not just incarnate with her but briefly transform her to her energy state along with him. It would have to occur at the exact moment he, himself, incarnated. At the very precipice of change. When she coalesced from this energy state back to human form. . . He was the only one who could do this for her. Salair had never heard of such a thing being done. There would be no danger to her; but if he failed, he would likely dissolve into thin air and be no more.
It was strange how it had come to this. He had always been a carefree loner. Now he was willing to sacrifice everything. It was the way of Familiar conviction, he realized. On a hunch, he had turned and taken a different Tunnel point.
In one moment, life happens.
As he kept his pace up, he sent her a message. Just in case. He had to speak aloud to conserve his remaining reserves of strength as all his energy went into the act itself. It was a prayer, and a plea to the one he belonged to above all others. "Snow, have faith in
me," he whispered hoarsely.
Did Salair just say something?
Snow couldn't be sure; she was too caught up in what was happening to them both. As his sexual energies rose higher, photons of light streamed from his core. Although Snow could not see the rays of light, she could feel the pulses gathering in strength as they swept around their locked forms. Parts of Salair were humming–
throbbing
–reminding her of. . . Something from the past?
Then the pulses jumped to her and she could feel her own body humming!
It became louder and louder. The beats were faster and faster. Salair maintained his unrelenting rhythm of
nine long, nine deep, every stroke enhanced.
The act kept building and building, seeming to go on forever! She was lost in the trance of it: breathless and breathy, loved and loving.
Suddenly, Salair released a magnificent burst of energy, simultaneously releasing his long withheld climax. They both cried out as the full impact struck them. While Salair’s seed flowed endlessly into her, he seized her lips with his own in a blinding flash of–Light?!
How could there be light?
Something strange was happening. . .
Snow felt her body rise and float and stretch out on the wind. Then just as quickly snap back. Rapid images swept through her mind. The only thing she could feel was Salair. Only it was not Salair exactly.
Her mate seemed to brush against her like a cloud of pulsing light. So beautiful. She could stay like this with him forever!
She slammed hard against a male chest.
Salair was panting, his body violently shaking in the aftermath.
Snow lifted a wobbly hand to her forehead, not sure what had just happened.
Then she heard his voice. That deep, enchanting voice that never failed to send shivers down her spine.
"You did not remember how to transform and thus could not change into your other self. I have shown you how to metamorphose,
Softcat
."
She blinked, not believing what she was experiencing–!
“Salair, what have you done?” she whispered shakily.
She could see.
Gold-tipped black hair wafted over a broad, muscular chest to a trim, taut waist. . . Skin, golden tan, and smooth as
silk
. . . Perfectly shaped hands and powerful forearms. . . Suddenly, she felt oddly shy. She looked down at her lap. "You did this for me?"
"Yes, and I would do so again.” He paused as he sensed her shyness. “
Kittenfeet."
Hesitatingly, she looked up.
Gorgeous blue and gold eyes glittered down on her from an exquisitely handsome face. The perfect, masculine lips that kissed her, and bit her, and cajoled her, were tilted up beguilingly at the corners.