I giggle, and he silences me with a kiss, sweet and tentative, then demanding, his tongue twining with mine, our breath mingling. His musky scent mixes with the blankets and quilts, and even though in the back of my mind, I know the Airstream is dirty and old and cold, that’s not how things really are. My nest is cozy and safe. I’m protected.

My mate won’t hurt me. He’ll make me feel good, and I want that more than anything. The need is riding me, harder and harder. I push him back so I have room to turn and settle on my hands and knees. I arch my back,...