"Yes—yes, Alpha—please—" I was sobbing openly now, tears and sweat mixing on my face, my nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood, my body arching off the bed with every thrust. The pleasure was too much, too intense, building to something that felt like it might destroy me.
"I can feel you," he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine, sweat dripping between us, his rhythm growing erratic, his knot starting to catch on my rim with every thrust. "Feel you getting close. Feel you clenching around me." His knot swelled larger, stretching me wider each time he pushed in, the burn of it mixing with the pleasure until I couldn't tell them apart. "Come for me, Artemis." His voice dropped to a growl, his amber eyes blazing into mine. "Come for your Alpha."
The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, my vision whiting out, my body seizing around him in waves that went on and on. I screamed—his name, or maybe just a wordless soundof release—my inner walls clamping down so hard around his swelling knot that he cursed, his hips stuttering.
"Fuck—fuck, I'm—" His voice cracked, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, and he slammed home one final time, his knot locking inside me with a stretch. Then he was coming, his whole body going rigid above me, a guttural groan tearing from his chest, his cock pulsing deep as he filled me. I could feel every throb, every hot rush of his release flooding me, his knot still swelling, stretching me impossibly wide.
The orgasm didn't stop. My body kept clenching around his knot, kept pulling waves of pleasure from both of us, each pulse of his release triggering another contraction that milked more from him. I was crying—really crying, ugly sobs that shook my whole body—not from pain but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.
"I've got you." His voice had changed—the feral growl softened to something tender, reverent, even as his body still trembled with aftershocks. He gathered me against his chest, rolling us carefully so I was draped on top of him, his arms wrapped tight around me, his knot still locked inside. "I've got you, mon coeur. You did so good. So perfect for me."
"Alpha—" The word came out broken, barely a whisper, my face pressed against his neck, my tears wetting his skin, his pulse thundering against my lips. I couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the tears, my body still spasming around his knot in weakening waves, my fingers clutching weakly at his shoulders. "I can't—it won't stop?—"
"Shh. I know." He pressed kisses to my hair, my temple, the shell of my ear, his hands stroking up and down my spine in long, soothing passes. "Just breathe. Let it happen. I'm right here."
I don't know how long we stayed like that—me sobbing against his neck, him murmuring soft French words against myhair, his knot pulsing inside me in diminishing waves. Long enough for my tears to slow. Long enough for my body to stop shaking. Long enough for something like peace to settle into my bones.
Then his hand slid up to cup the back of my head, tilting my face toward his throat. Just his pulse jumping wild under my lips, his scent flooding my lungs, and the understanding that passed between us without speaking. This was the moment. This was what we'd been building toward.
I opened my mouth against his neck at the same moment his teeth found my throat.
We bit down together. The world didn't go white—it shattered. I tasted blood on my tongue, his blood, copper and salt, and felt the answering sting where his teeth had broken through my skin. The marks would scar. Would stay. When I could breathe again, I was still in his arms, still knotted to him, my back pressed against his chest. He was murmuring something in French, soft broken syllables pressed into my hair, his whole body trembling against mine.
"Mon Dieu," he breathed eventually, his lips moving against my hair, and then he laughed—a wet, wondering sound that shook through both of us. He pressed a kiss to the bite mark on my neck, and the touch sent a shiver through both of us, an echo of the bond humming between us. His knot still held us locked together, his body still emptying into mine in lazy pulses. The houseboat rocked gently beneath us, water lapping at the hull, frogs singing their chorus in the dark.
Time went strange after that. The candles guttered and died one by one. His knot softened eventually, slipping free, and neither of us moved to clean up the mess we'd made of his sheets. The houseboat kept rocking, gentle and endless, and through the window the stars burned bright over the bayou.
"Silas tomorrow," I murmured against his chest, my lips brushing his skin with each word, not a question. The thought should have felt heavy. Instead it felt like the next note in a song—inevitable, right.
"Silas tomorrow," he agreed, pressing his lips to my hair, his arms tightening around me briefly. "Lucky bastard has no idea what's coming."
I laughed, the sound surprising me, my shoulders shaking against his chest. "You're terrible."
"You love it." He pulled me closer, his body curving around mine like he was trying to memorize the shape of me, his legs tangling with mine under the sheets. "Sleep now, chere. I've got you."
My eyes were already closing, my body heavy and sated, the bond humming warm between us. The last thing I heard before I drifted off was his voice, soft and rough, singing something in French that I didn't understand but felt in my bones.
Remy Boudreaux, serenading me to sleep after bonding me forever. The most Remy thing that had ever happened.
I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Chapter Fifty
Artemis
The path to Silas's cabin wound through a stand of pines, their branches swaying gently overhead. I could smell woodsmoke before I saw the amber glow of his windows, and something in my chest loosened at the familiar scent. I touched the marks on my throat as I walked—two bites, still tender. Harper's on the left, Remy's on the right. There was space between them. Space that had been aching for Silas since the moment I'd met him.
He was on the porch when I arrived, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, watching me approach through the darkness. Even from a distance, I could see the tension coiled in his frame—the way his shoulders were set too rigid, the way his jaw was clenched tight. I could smell him beneath the woodsmoke, that deep, earthy musk that always made heat pool low in my stomach.
He was holding himself back. I'd learned to recognize the signs—the white-knuckled grip on his own control. Harper haddone it too, at first. So had Remy. They'd all been so worried about overwhelming me, about scaring me off.
They'd all needed a little push.
"You came." His voice carried through the darkness, low and rough, his fingers digging into his biceps where his arms stayed crossed, knuckles white with tension.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" I climbed the porch steps, stopping close enough to catch the full force of his scent—pine and earth and something wild underneath that made heat pool low in my belly. I tilted my head, letting him see the marks on my throat. "I've been waiting for tonight, Silas."
His nostrils flared, scenting me, and I watched his eyes darken to slate. "You smell like them." His voice dropped lower, something rough and possessive bleeding through. "Like Harper. Like Remy."
