Page 126 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“No.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not leaving. Not unless you physically drag me out of here and force me to go.”

“Rebecca—“

“That was our agreement, remember? I’d stay until I got my magic back, and then I’d decide what I wanted.” I lifted my chin. “Well, I have my magic back. And I’ve decided. I’m staying.”

“You’re being rash⁠—“

“I’m being honest. For the first time in years, I can finally make a decision that isn’t based on what I’m missing but on what I have. And you know what?” I stepped forward again, and this time he didn’t retreat. “If there had been a point last night where I had to choose—my magic or you—do you know what I would have chosen?”

“Don’t say it.”

“I would have chosen you, Axel. Because guess what? Having magic doesn’t matter if I don’t have you.”

“Stop it,” he hissed out, looking panicked.

“No. I’m not going to stop. I’ll never stop fighting for you. Even if you are completely feral. I’ll still fight for you. So either accept that, or literally throw me out. Those are your options.”

We stood there, barely a foot apart. His chest heaved with each breath. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for.” His voice was low and rough. “What about my compulsion. The power I’ll have over you if we… If we…”

“If you fuck me and knot me? If you bite me and mark me?” My belly tightened with need.

“That.”

“I trust you. If you want to boss me around, then fine. But I know you. I know you would never force me into anything. I know you would rather hurt yourself than hurt me. I watched you fight your deepest trauma just stop help me. Watched you make yourself miserable just to help me. I know who you are, Axel.”

His control was fracturing. I could see it in the way his wolf flickered behind his eyes, honey bleeding into yellow.

“You think you want this now.” His words were desperate. “But you haven’t had time to process. To settle into your magic. To see what else is out there for you.”

“I don’t need time. I’m not leaving, Axel.” My voice was steady. Certain. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not unless you make me. And even then, I’ll probably just come back.”

A sound escaped him—half growl, half groan. His hand came up to cover mine, pressing it harder against his chest.

“You’re going to break me, lass,” he whispered.

“No.” I smiled up at him. “I’m going to make you mine. There’s a difference.”

Then I reached for his head, hands grasping the back of his neck, and crushed our lips together. Claiming him with just a kiss.

31

For a heartbeat, Axel froze. His lips were still beneath mine, his body tight with resistance.

Then he groaned—deep and broken—and kissed me back.

His hands framed my face, tilting my head right where he wanted it. The kiss turned hungry. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back and now the dam had broken.

I pressed closer, my hands sliding up his chest. So warm. So solid.

“Rebecca.” My name was a growl against my lips.

“Let me show you what it means to be mine, Axel. And then you can show me what it means to be yours.”

His throat bobbed, then he gave a brief nod. I went for his shirt, grabbing at the hem and pulling it up and over his body. I loved his chest. God. I loved it.

The sight of his tattoos covering slabs of muscle…