“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, sending a glare his way.
He grins, fangs peeking. “As you wish, my Luna.”
He peels the shorts away, and then his mouth is on my stomach, my hips, the softest places that have never known a touch like this. I’m shaking. I want to hide, to pull away, but every time I try, he chases me, nuzzles, soothes. He doesn’t rush. Not even when my nails dig into his scalp. Not even when my breath comes in high, broken gasps.
He takes his time.
When he finally moves above me, when his body covers mine and I feel the size of him, I panic a little. I freeze. The old fearreturns, all the warnings I ever heard about pain and blood and how it’s supposed to feel like dying before it feels like flying.
He senses it instantly. His hands cradle my face, his eyes searching mine. I force myself to meet his gaze. I don’t want to run. I don’t want to ruin this.
He cups the back of my neck and kisses me, softer than before.
“I’ll go slow,” he promises.
He does. He’s so careful it almost breaks me. He moves with infinite patience, coaxing my body to open for him, letting me adjust to every new inch, every stretch, every burning, impossible moment. He whispers to me the whole time — words I don’t understand, words that sound beautiful.
When it hurts, I squeeze his forearm and he stills. He holds me, his lips pressed to my temple, waiting for me. When the pain finally ebbs into something sharper, hungrier, I roll my hips into his and he groans. A sound so wrecked and hungry that it snaps the last of my fear into dust.
He fills me completely, body and soul, and I feel the bond flare to life — stitching us closer together.
I want to say something but the only thing that comes out is a whimper. He moves inside me, slow at first, then faster. Until I’m shattering around him, every part of me burning and alive. He follows the moment I cry his name in pure, pleasurable agony, his whole body trembling as he pours himself into me.
Afterward, he doesn’t let go. Not even when I roll onto my back and pull him with me. Not even when my legs start to cramp and I have to kick at his shins to make him shift. He just laughs and buries his face in my neck, inhaling deep.
“Neris says you smell like fire,” I murmur, running my fingers through his hair.
He lifts his head, eyes bright and wild.
“You are my fire,” he says, and there’s so much love in his gaze that for once, I have no snarky comeback.
This might be the first time he managed to shut me up.
Chapter 11
Draven
We arrive at Mirenwulf Pack in the late afternoon, the air thick with grief.
Before we left, I gave Sin a full set of instructions in case something goes wrong. He usually stays behind to manage the palace in my absence, but I brought him this time. I need someone I trust, someone who would protect Kassira with his life.
Because this trip? It reeks of a setup.
Alpha Parrin’s death doesn’t sit right with me. It’s too sudden. Too convenient. And I know in my gut — she’s here. The witch who’s been playing with my life. Whoever orchestrated this has been moving the pieces for a while, and now, they’re bound to make a move. I just wish we had more answers before walking into the lion’s den.
We’re barely in front of the packhouse entrance when the first voice cuts through the somber crowd.
“Welcome, Ven.”
Amira. Of course she’s the first to greet us. I feel Kass’ discomfort through the bond, but she keeps her expression composed. Regal.
Amira stands beside Luna Hana, who looks like a shell of herself, pale and hollow-eyed, and beside her is the Alpha Heir — Amira’s older brother, Isak. Levi lingers just behind them, noticeably separate from the group. I make a mental note of that.
I don’t stop walking. I just tighten my arm around Kassira’s waist and keep moving forward.
“My condolences, Luna,” I say as we come to a stop before Luna Hana.
Kass’s voice follows mine, soft and sincere. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Luna.”
