Maybe—sometimes—they're exactly what we've been searching for all along.
Eleven
Rand
The second my mate tells me to show her how I feel, my Wolf is begging me to pounce.
Claim.
Bite.
Mark.
And I want to do all those things.
But first...
I lower us both onto the soft carpet covering the hardwood floor, kneeling between her splayed legs as I take in every breathtaking inch of her.
Daria is a beautiful woman.
There is no doubt about it.
Everything about her calls to me.Her curves.Her soft skin.The way her whiskey-colored eyes look at me with trust instead of fear after everything she's learned today.
My heart feels too big for my chest.
My Wolf is practically vibrating beneath my skin.
She chose me.
Against all reason, against everything she thought she knew about the world...
She chose me.
I don't think I'll ever stop being grateful for that.
“You're staring,” she whispers.
I am.
I know I am.
But can you blame me?
I've waited forty-two years for this woman.
Forty-two years wondering if fate had forgotten me.
Now she's here, looking up at me like I'm worth believing in.
She bites her lower lip, and I watch intently as a dusky pink blush spreads across her cheeks, trailing down her neck to her breasts.
I trace it with my hands first, cupping the heavy mounds and teasing the nipples.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Mate,” I murmur reverently.
The words don't feel like enough.
