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Amaia thought she might have different feelings about that, but then she registered what was beyond Rhys and forgot any bubbling irritation. Her hand clenched tighter to his asrenewed excitement sparked in her chest.
Trickling in front of them was a beautiful slow-moving creek, dotted with boulders and framed on both sides by several feet of lush grass. Like a little piece of paradise, hidden in Marlow’s backyard. Or was it possible that all of Marlow was the secret paradise, and this was just one example of why?
“Rhys,” Amaia said, unable to look away from the picturesque landscape, “this is gorgeous. Is this your territory too?”
He let go of her hand and started toward the water. “The pack’s territory extends about two miles around the town’s physical border. So, yes, this is mine.” He crouched beside the water and looked over at her with a pointed stare. “Ours, if you choose to stay.”
Amaia swallowed hard, watching as he proceeded to splash some water on his arm. It wasn’t hard to recall the way she’d felt in his embrace just minutes prior, but his words resonated with something deeper. Something she’d been afraid to analyze since maybe the first day they’d talked seriously. Her gaze drifted down to the bit of drying blood that had dribbled onto her own skin. She didn’t want to see him hurt, as unreasonable as that was. But she couldn’t walk away from him at this point, either.
Amaia released a breath and let go of her hesitation. If she knew she couldn’t leave, then wasn’t that her answer? Her body moved before she’d consciously made the choice, fingers sliding under the hem of her apparently bloodied shirt. “What were the conditions for accepting a mate again?”
Rhys froze, forearm dripping but satisfactorily unbloodied. “Why?”
Amaia let her shirt drop to the ground and reached for her bra. “It seems good to know.” She glanced at the pile of fabric and winced a little. “You really did a number on my shirt.”
“Amaia, what are you— Shit.”
She’d never seen him look more like a deer caught in headlights, with his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring.
She held his gaze, telling herself not to shy away, and released her bra.
Chapter Eight
“I want to stay,” Amaia said. A warm breeze danced through, as if the forest itself were rewarding her decision. Confidence filled her chest. “Here. With you.”
Rhys stood across from her, an amusingly uncharacteristic look of awe on his face. “You’re sure…?”
She smiled and took a step forward, closer to him. Closer to the stream behind him. “I’m sure.” She waved her hand briefly for emphasis. “Maybe you could remind me how it works while I rinse this—”
Rhys surged forward, catching her with an arm around the waist and burying the other hand in her hair. He hauled her up to him, licking and nipping along her jaw until he reached her lips. “I don’t give a shit about a little blood,” he said as his lips moved over her skin. “Especially mine.” He plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard and leaving her no room to argue.
Her body lit up, and Amaia clung to his shoulders as she kissed him back. He’d kissed her a couple of times since that first day in her apartment, but never like this. Never anything they could lose themselves in. Already she felt consumed by him as he held her tight. His hands stroked over the bare skin of her back, causing her to tremble and arch into him. When she could no longer breathe, Rhys left her lips and angled his kisses down her throat. All the while, his hands burned over her back and sides, running the length of her spine and around to squeeze her hips, keeping her close.
Amaia gasped, one hand twisted in his shirt and the other sliding up the back of his neck to sift through his hair. She could feel the length of him pressing against her. Could feel her nipples dragging across the fabric of his shirt. The way he teased her skin with teeth and tongue only made her heart race faster.
In truth, she did remember what Rhys had told her about accepting the mate bond. It didn’t require some special phase of the moon or, thank heavens, any sort of blood exchange. The way he’d broken it down, it was actually quite simple. First and foremost, there had to be consent. Not just for the sexual act that served to forge the bond, but consent—and a conscious desire—from both parties to tie their lives to each other in all ways. There could be no lust-induced accidental bonding. The pair had to make the choice to bond in the moment they came together. The sex itself was merely the forge. The symbol, the spiritual tie. And because of that, when the destined pair came together, they had to do so without anything separating them. Contraception included.
Amaia had thought she would feel uncomfortable about that last detail, presuming she could ever feel so certain that she wanted to literally tie her life to another. She’d been wrong. She didn’t think she’d ever felt more confident in herself or her decision. And since she hadn’t been on any form of birth control since her college days, there was no reason to hold back.
Rhys had slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her jeans, pulling them tight in a torturous way as he settled his hand over her ass. He gave a squeeze and groaned against her throat, his teeth grazing her skin.
She didn’t know whether to rock back or forward. “Rhys,” she said on a gasp. She gave an awkward tug of his shirt. “Please…” Why was he still dressed? She was more worked up than she’d been in longer than she cared to think about, and he was still dressed!
“Say it,” he rumbled, his words vibrating against her skin. He lifted his lips to her ear and ground against her. “Say it again. Tell me what you want, Amaia.”
Her throat swelled with too many emotions, and the first sound she managed was a moan. “You, Rhys.” She swallowedand dragged in a breath. “I want you. I want to spend my life with you. Here, in Marlow. I want to embrace my fate with you at my side.” A tear rolled down her cheek as the words escaped her. She hadn’t realized how deeply she felt that, how strongly she’d fallen for this larger-than-life man, until this moment.
But the fate he spoke of made sense to her. She had absolute faith that he’d reciprocate her feelings wholeheartedly.
A long, low growl, more rumble than snarl, built up from his chest. Rhys dragged his hands up her sides, lowered her to her feet, and sealed his lips over hers again in a wet, searing kiss. He held her face between his palms and kissed her so deeply she nearly toppled backward. Then he released her and ripped his shirt over his head, his amber eyes glowing even under the sunlight. “I’ve waited my whole damn life for you.” His voice was thicker than she’d ever heard it.
Amaia suppressed a shiver, belatedly thinking to shimmy out of the rest of her clothing while Rhys finally stripped. “Well, you should’ve come looking for me sooner, then.”
He grunted, his jeans flying off to the side and nearly landing in the stream. “You’re right. We have time to make up for.” His gaze shamelessly tracked her movements, and a low groan escaped him as she toed off her socks. “Fuck, you’re so damn perfect.”
Amaia paused, just for a moment, before straightening to properly face him again. She’d known he was watching, of course. He’d had more to remove than her and somehow still stripped naked in nearly half the time. But it was what he’d said after that struck her. From his tone and the look on his face, she didn’t doubt he meant it.No one’s ever said that to me before…
Rhys stepped up to her and trailed his fingers over her sides until his hands were settled on her hips. “Are you ready?”
