“But I’ll be ready enough for both of us until you are. Bite me, Princess. Make me yours, even while you’re not mine.”
He thrusts into me, hard and fast, exactly how I want him. How I need him. He flips our positions so that he’s on his back and I’m straddling him. I grind my hips against him as my canines descend. The taste of the serum that will imbue my scent in him floods my mouth, but I continue to ride him, pushing us both closer to the edge. Only when I’m right at the precipice of falling apart, do I fall forward and sink my teeth into Luca’s flesh at the junction where his shoulder meets his neck.
He holds me still while thrusting up into me once, twice, and then filling me with his hot release. My teeth withdraw, and I lick over the mark. Healing him and sealing my scent inside his body forever. I push up, enough to kiss him. Deep and slow, like it’s the start of forever.
“Let me be worthy of you.”
“You do realize you just bound yourself to me without the reverse right? You won’t be able to leave me, but I could still leave you.”
“It’s cute that you think I would ever let you get away and that there was ever a chance of me leaving you. I’m yours, always will be.”
He pulls me into a kiss, filled with the promise of forever.
I snuggle into him until he tells me he really does have to go attend to some pack business, but he’ll be back as soon as possible. And that if I’m not in this bed naked and waiting, that he will hunt me down and remind me who I belong to.
I might have to find somewhere else to be and see what he has in mind. But first, I have things of my own to do.
Chapter Forty
Sofia
I called Dr. Maya Moore shortly after Luca left. The therapist I contacted a couple of months back, when Emily was dealing with the worst of her PTSD. At the time, I researched heavily, only contacting licenced therapists with extra training in trauma work.
I must have looked through fifty therapist profiles back then, scrolling late into the night, rejecting almost all of them. Too clinical. Too impersonal. Too polished. But when I found Dr. Moore’s photo in a directory, something made me pause. She couldn’t have been more than in her late twenties, maybe thirty at most. She’s Asian American with sleek black hair and a delicate face that somehow looks both warm and like she could read you like a book.
Her introductory video had sealed it: warm voice, clear eyes, something steady that felt safe. I couldn’t explain it then, but I knew she was the one to trust. The only choice.
And I was right.
She has been a huge part of Emily’s recovery. Patient and gentle but unflinching, teaching her how to ground herself during flashbacks, how to breathe through the worst of the panic, how to stop letting fear dictate every decision. Human tools that, surprisingly,worked just as well for wolf shifters. Emily still has her scars, her triggers, but for the first time in her life, she is well on the road to healing.
I can only hope Maya can do the same for Ryan. But she doesn’t answer. Leaving me to sit and stew in my own thoughts. About Ryan. About Luca accepting my bite but not making his own. About the omegas who are out of their hell but have such a long way to go themselves.
I’ve spoken to Caleb a couple of times, and he’s finding it really tough. He lost his brother, Landon, in the fight, and Camille still won’t talk to him or their other brothers. He’s butting heads with Katie a lot too. Even though they both seem to want the same thing.
My head is so preoccupied that I jump when Maya finally calls me back
“Hi, Dr. Moore, this is Sofia Rivera, Emily Grant’s friend.”
“Hi Sofia, I remember you. Did something happen to Emily?” she asks, her voice taking on a worried tone. I can’t blame her. The last time I called her, it was to cancel Emily’s session after she rejected her fated mate and ended up unconscious for a few days while she recovered from the rejection. I referred to it as an accident that landed her in the hospital because she’s human, and what else could I say?
“No, no, nothing like that. I’m calling you about a new patient. Do you have availability? It’s sort of urgent.”
She hesitates, her professional tone soft but firm. “I’m sorry, Sofia. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to see such a close friend of one of my clients.”
Panic flares hot and sharp in my chest. If she says no, I have no backup plan. I need someone like Dr. Moore for Ryan. Someone I’m certain is good at what they do.
My mouth moves before my brain catches up. “Oh no, it’s not for me! It’s for my brother.” My words tumble out quick and desperate as I continue. “I’ve been trying to convince him to try therapy, and he has finally agreed. I’d love for him to see you, but he really needs to get started sooner rather than later.”
“Oh, I see. I might have to start paying you a finder's fee, Sofia. And strangely enough, I’ve just had a slot open up and no one on my waitlist can take it. Must be fate,” she laughs softly.
Fate. She said it so lightly, but my breath caught on the word. If only she knew how much fate meant to us. Maybe this is a sign. That maybe Ryan isn’t doomed to lose himself after all.
I give her his details, carefully weaving the story I’ve worked out. That he was required to marry for the sake of the family business or risk losing everything, but he refused to settle down because he was fixated on finding the perfect partner. I tell her his mental health is not in a good place and the closer he comes to losing everything, the more I worry about him.
Close enough to the truth to sound real. Human enough to hide the parts of our world she could never understand.
Dr. Moore asks the usual questions—about his mood, his stress, his sleep. I answer as best I can without tripping over lies. Eachword has me feeling both relief and guilt. Therapy isn’t exactly the norm in wolf culture. We’re more about fighting it out, avoiding things, losing your mind to moon madness.
