Except I can still taste the promise in the air between us. Still feel the way his control fractured when that shadow creature went for me. The protective rage that exploded through him wasn't calculated strategy. That was pure instinct.
Mine, the bond whispers. Mate.
My hands shake as I press them against the workbench. Wood, solid and real under my palms. Grounding. Everything in my life has been temporary—apartments, relationships. Nothing permanent. Nothing mine.
But Jonah Hayes looked at me tonight like I was worth dying for.
The door crashes open.
I spin around. Jonah fills the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild. Shadows still cling to him—actual shadow tendrils writhing across his shoulders before dissolving into smoke.
"I can't." His voice comes out rough. Raw. "I said tomorrow but I can't wait that long."
He crosses the workshop in three strides.
Doesn't lean in. Claims.
His mouth crashes onto mine with bruising intensity. One hand tangles in my hair, angling my head where he wants it. The other grips my hip hard enough to leave marks. There's nothing tentative about this kiss. Nothing gentle.
This is possession. Declaration. Mine.
My back hits the wall before I register moving. His body pins me there, solid muscle and heat, and every nerve ending ignites. He tastes like pine and copper and something wild I can't name. Something that makes rational thought impossible.
When he finally pulls back, we're both gasping. His pupils are blown wide, more black than gray. The bond between us blazes gold-bright, singing with satisfaction.
"We need to talk." His voice is gravel and smoke. "Now."
Not a request. A command.
But his thumb brushes my jaw with surprising gentleness. Like he's reminding himself I'm breakable even while claiming me.
"Okay," I manage.
He takes my hand and pulls me across the compound. Not toward the main cottage where his family is still gathered, but to a smaller cabin set back among the trees. Close enough to the main buildings that help is seconds away. Far enough for privacy.
Smart. Strategic. He's not taking me away from protection.
"This one's mine." He unlocks the door. "Built it when I got back from grad school."
Inside, the cabin is sparse but clean. Wood furniture, a kitchen that looks barely used, books on marine biology stacked on the coffee table. A few photographs pinned to a corkboard—his family, mostly. Before the shadow realm. Before corruption. Before me.
"Sit." He gestures to the couch.
Another command, but tension radiates from every line of his body. This isn't about control. This is about holding himself together long enough to explain.
I sit.
He paces, then forces himself still. Stands across from me with his hands in his pockets, shoulders squared like he's preparing for battle.
"You need to understand what you are to me." No preamble. Direct. "Mate bonds. What they mean. What we are to each other."
My pulse kicks up. "Alright."
"When shifters find their mate, it's recognition. Not choice." His eyes lock onto mine. "My bear knew the second I first saw you. Knew you were mine before I was even conscious. The bond started forming whether either of us wanted it."
"Started," I echo. "So it's not complete?"
"No. Not until we both accept it. Until we complete the bonding ritual." He moves his weight. "But Maren, you need to hear this clearly. You're mine. My bear knew it, I know it, and you feel it too."
