"Every word."
He kissed me—soft, reverent, a complete contrast to the desperate claiming of the past day. When he pulled back, his expression was raw and open and utterly vulnerable.
"Let me take care of you now," he said quietly. "Please."
I nodded, and he rose on unsteady legs, crossing to the small table where the supplies waited. He returned with a soft cloth and a bowl of warm water—Selene's magic keeping it heated—and began to clean me with gentle, careful hands. He wiped the evidence of our coupling from my skin, pressed soft kisses to every bruise and bite mark, and murmured apologies and endearments against my flesh.
When I was clean, he wrapped me in a soft blanket and pulled me into his arms, settling us both into the nest of furs. The candles had burned low, casting soft shadows across the walls, and the basement felt like a sanctuary now—warm and safe andours.
"Thank you," he whispered against my hair. "For staying. For trusting me. For loving all of me."
"Always." I pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart. "Always, Lucien."
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and soft footsteps descended. Selene appeared first, her emerald eyes sweeping over us with a mixture of relief and approval. Behind her came Azrael, his golden gaze warm and reverent, and Darius, his silver eyes soft with something that looked like love.
"Everything okay?" Selene asked, her voice gentle.
I smiled, nestled in Lucien's arms. "Everything's perfect."
She crossed to us and knelt beside the fur pile, her hand reaching out to brush the hair from my face. "You did so well, darling. Both of you."
Azrael settled on my other side, his cool fingers finding mine. "The mark helped?"
"It helped." I squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
Darius remained standing, his silver eyes moving between us with quiet intensity. "We'll give you space to rest. But we wanted to check in. To make sure you were both... okay."
"We're okay," Lucien said, his voice rough but steady. "Because of her. Because she stayed."
Darius nodded slowly. "She's remarkable."
"She's ours," Lucien corrected, and there was no jealousy in his voice—only gratitude. Only wonder.
The four of them surrounded me—Lucien's warmth at my back, Selene's hand in my hair, Azrael's fingers intertwined with mine, Darius's steady presence watching over us all. I was sore and exhausted and covered in the evidence of a werewolf's primal claiming.
And I had never felt more loved.
"Sleep," Selene murmured. "We'll be here when you wake."
I closed my eyes and let myself drift, safe in the arms of my family. The last thing I heard before unconsciousness claimed me was Lucien's voice, soft and fierce:
"Mine. Ours. Always."
And I smiled.
