Page 74 of North’s Claim

My name in his mouth breaks the last of my resistance. “Yes.” The word tears out of me, raw and certain, and he lets me fall.

Pleasure crashes through me so hard I lose my grip on everything except his shoulders and his name. He holds me through it, rough and steady, his mouth against my skin, his voice low in my ear, telling me he heard me, telling me I said yes, telling me I’m home.

Home.

That is the word that undoes me completely. When I come back to myself, North brushes his mouth over my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my lips, each kiss slower than the last. “There’s my answer,” he murmurs.

I open my eyes and find him watching me. “That wasn’t a proposal.”

His hand slides into my hair. “No?”

“That was a claim.”

His mouth curves, dark and satisfied. “Good,” he says. “Then you finally understand.”

When we head downstairs, the music shifts, bass pounding harder, and someone starts a chant for shots. A couple of the Black Panthers join the circle, slamming their glasses down so hard the table rattles. Wolves fill in the gaps, their deep laughter cutting through the noise.

I sip my beer, letting the noise wash over me before asking, “The ambush, what happened?”

Iron leans forward. “Myka talked. The little MC he tried to drag into his mess? They’re gone. We’re clear.”

“And Myka?”

Their grins say everything.

I lift my bottle high. “To his soul, may it be damned forever.”

“Cheers to that,” Bullet says, clinking his against mine. He leans closer, voice dropping to something darker. “Found who cooked that drug. Lab’s gone. So are the fuckers who ran it.”

“Thank you.”

Iron gets on his feet and I move too. He waves to a few candies and I stop near him. He cocks a brow at me.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

His eyes close for a second. “It wasn’t your fault, Nyxa.”

I shake my head because I know all the members we’ve lost are because of me. Before I can say anything Iron leaves with Beatrice and Jules.

I walk back and sit onto my North’s lap. The music swells, boots pound the floor, and someone sets off a firecracker outside. For the first time in weeks, I let myself laugh without feeling the weight of it.

I’m home. I’m safe. And my man’s hand hasn’t left me.