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The world narrowed to this—heat and breath, moans and murmurs, the soft slap of skin, the scent of sex and rosemary in the moonlit air.

When her cries grew higher, sharper, he let the bear rise—not fully, just enough. His claws lengthened, eyes glowing faintly gold. The shift trembled just beneath the surface, held back by love and need.

With a groan, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her shoulder, then lower… just above the swell of her hip.

She cupped his face, nodding. “Now,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

His claw traced the rune over her skin—a mark of bond, not pain.

Then he sank the tip in, swift and sure.

Blood welled, a faint ruby against her golden-brown skin. Magic surged.

Delilah gasped, eyes wide, spine arching as the bond locked into place—not just soul and spirit, but blood and body.

Her pussy clenched around him, orgasm crashing into her a second time, and he growled, deep and wild, as he spilled inside her, his cock pulsing, his heart laid bare.

Rollo kissed the mark, lips gentle against her skin.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ll always have you.”

She stroked his cheek, tears glittering in her eyes. “And I’ve got you.”

They lay tangled together, sweat-slicked and shaking, the bond humming between them.

No words were needed.

The sanctuary held its breath.

And Rollo—wild, towering, moss-scented and half bear, truly was home.