Page 46 of Accidentally Wedded to a Werewolf (Claw Haven #1)

“How’s that?” Oliver asked stiffly.

Grandmother examined the glass silently.

She hadn’t said a word since they had retreated to her room to get the nectar ready, and Oliver was grateful.

The last thing he wanted was to talk about this.

He wanted to get the un--bonding over with, then hide in his room until his family learned to avoid the subject.

Not very alpha of him. But he wasn’t alpha yet.

Grandmother hummed. “That will do. Only one more ingredient before you can drink.”

Oliver nodded. He kept holding the glass out, hoping that she would take it from him. But she walked toward the door, her gait slower than usual but still steady. She looked back at him expectantly, then at the silver knife lying on the desk.

Heart thudding dully, Oliver picked it up and followed her out into the hallway.

* * *

Everyone was gathered in the lobby. Oliver had suggested the common room, but Ben had insisted it’d be nice to end the bond where it had started.

The chatter died down as Grandmother stepped in, Oliver on her heels. Oliver took one look at his family gathered around the front desk and his stomach clenched.

“You don’t need to be here,” he snapped.

Ben groaned. “Oh, come on, Ollie.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, clinging to his dad’s leg. “Come on, Uncle Ollie!”

Grandmother cleared her throat. “This works better with privacy.”

Ben’s smile faded. He picked up Leo, carrying him out despite the child’s protests.

“Have a good divorce,” he called back as he headed down the hall.

Grandmother looked at Hector. “Us too, I’m afraid.”

Hector blinked at her in surprise. He had an arm around Luna, causing an unexpected wave of jealousy to rip through Oliver, cold and brutal.

It had nothing to do with the bond; the bond didn’t get jealous.

It didn’t care who else got close to Luna as long as he got to do it, too.

That jealousy would still be there once the warm flutter in his chest was gone.

“Seriously? But I’m—”

“It’s a wolf thing,” Luna said, patting his chest. “See you in a minute?”

Grandmother gave Oliver a pointed look as she guided Hector down the hall. The ritual didn’t need to happen in solitude, Oliver realized. She’d made that up so they could have a moment alone.

Luna’s gaze dropped to the glass in his hands. Then to the silver knife.

“Whoa,” she said with a nervous giggle. “What’s that for?”

“We just need a few drops of blood,” he explained. He placed the glass on the front desk. “Can I have your hand?”

She held it out. She was smiling, but he could see the reluctance behind it.

“Just a prick,” he assured her. He pressed the knife tip into her finger.

She gasped. Three drops of blood fell into the nectar.

He turned the knife hilt toward her. “Now you do me.”

Luna paused. Then she took the knife. “Wish the bonding ritual needed blood,” she said as she held his finger above the glass. “Then we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”

The blade pressed against his finger.

“Harder,” he told her. “Come on, you have to actually cut me.”

“I’m trying,” she said, frustrated. “It’s weird! I don’t cut a lot of people! Especially not werewolves. What is your skin made of—leather?”

He was about to call Grandmother back and ask if he couldn’t just do it himself when she changed tactics, dragging instead of shoving the blade. Blood welled up over the cut, dripping into the glass.

“Ow,” Luna said with a wince.

“It’s fine.” Oliver picked up the glass, ignoring the smudge of blood he left on the side. The liquid had turned deep red despite the few drops of blood, with an almost wine-like consistency. He held it out to Luna.

“Cheers,” she said quietly.

She didn’t take it like he’d been expecting. She just leaned in, pressing her lips to the rim and waiting.

Oliver tipped the glass back. Her throat worked, nose wrinkling as some of the herbs slipped into her mouth.

“That was disgusting,” she said as he pulled the glass back. “Un-bonding nectar. Two out of five— Oh.”

She cut off as Oliver slammed back the rest of the glass in one gulp, grimacing at the admittedly disgusting taste. Gone was the sweetness from the first time. This tasted oily and dark, herbs crunching in his teeth.

“Well?” Luna asked as he set the empty glass down. “Does it just…”

She trailed off, eyes going wide. He didn’t have to ask why, he felt it too. The warmth in his chest was getting colder. Burning down to nothing.

Luna sucked in a breath. She touched his wrist, and Oliver felt the faintest pang of heat sparking through his rib cage before it went out entirely.

Oliver reeled. He’d gotten so used to the sensor inside his chest telling him whenever Luna was near, pulling him toward her. It was strange to have her standing right in front of him, holding his wrist, and not have that spark in his heart leap in response.

A throat cleared behind them.

Oliver turned. A human man stood in the guest hallway, waving awkwardly.

“Excuse me,” the man said, whose name Oliver couldn’t remember despite signing him in yesterday. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”

“It’s on the list above your bedside table,” Luna and Oliver said in one.

“Thanks!” The man lingered in the hallway, scuffing his inn slippers. Thanks to Luna, they had little horns on them. “Also, I think there’s a problem with my window.”

Oliver turned to Luna. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” Luna stepped back, dropping his wrist. “I need to tell Hec it worked. He has the tab open on his phone, ready to book flights.”

“Right.” Oliver stood there, hands clenching around nothing, chest strangely empty. He wanted to ask something stupid—like Will I ever see you again?—but the window man was tapping his slippered foot on the new carpet and Luna had a fiancé to get to.

“Bye,” he said stupidly and headed down the guest hall.

* * *

The problem with the window was simple: The guy wasn’t pulling hard enough. After getting a sheepish thank-you and making a mental note to fix the stiff window later, Oliver slunk back to his room.

He didn’t want to alert his family that he was around, so he employed an old trick that all wolves did when they didn’t want anyone to hear them sneak down the hall: He went around the outside of the house and climbed through his own bedroom window.

Thanks to the soundproof walls, nobody heard him come in.

Now all he had to do was stay in his room for as long as he possibly could, or until his family stopped sitting around the common room, ears perked up, waiting to ambush and drag him into a board game or a movie or a jog like that would distract him from the great big nothing in his chest.

He was himself again, and he hated it. He’d spent weeks resenting the bond, wishing it would go away, and now it had finally gone, and he hated it.

At some point, it had been comforting, the knowledge that Luna was nearby, the warmth getting bigger and bigger until they finally touched, and it flooded him.

Like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. Like coming in from the snow.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts. He rubbed his empty chest, then went to answer it.

“I don’t want to—” He cut off as he saw Luna in the hallway, dressed in a hat and mittens. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked almost shy, something he still wasn’t used to.

She bit her lip. “Want to see me off at the airport?”

Oliver pictured it: Hector waving a lighthearted goodbye, his arm slung over Luna’s shoulder.

Luna asking them to please send pictures of the fair, hugging everyone goodbye.

Would she hug him? Would it be too weird?

He didn’t want to be the only one without a hug, but if she did hug him, that would somehow be worse.

He’d have to hug her back like a normal person who didn’t want to cling and ask her to stay.

“No,” he said.

Luna ducked her head. “Oookay. Well, I have five minutes. Hec is in the car. What are you up to?”

Oliver tried to think of something that wasn’t pathetic. “Going for a run.”

“Oh yay, you can finally run as fast as you want. No human holding you back.” Luna tugged at the fanged pom-pom at the top of her hat.

It was, predictably, a werewolf. She’d bought it from the knitting shop after begging the owner to order it in for her.

She’d picked it up this morning, spinning in the chilly street outside the shop.

She wanted to wear it while she could, she’d said.

Not much chance where she was going, all sun and sand.

“You should get going,” Oliver said.

She paused. “I have fifteen minutes.”

Oliver nodded down the hall. He was shocked the others hadn’t burst out into the hallway yet. “Go say goodbye to the others.”

“I have,” she said quietly. “It’s just you left.”

Oliver was deeply relieved this hadn’t happened at the airport. He’d hate for anyone else to witness this. It was bad enough that he was going through it, hands sweaty and throat dry as Luna stared up at him with those big blue eyes.

“I already said goodbye,” he said. “You should—”

He stopped, stepping back automatically as Luna stepped forward. She closed the bedroom door behind her and took off her hat. Then her mittens, which were adorned with little knitted hedgehogs, courtesy of Beth.

“What…” Oliver swallowed as Luna moved closer, catching him by the front of his shirt so he couldn’t move away. His breath caught as she leaned up, skimming their noses together.

“There’s no bond,” he reminded her. “There isn’t— We don’t need to.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…”

She hesitated. Then she slid her hands up his arms, skin on skin, fingers creeping up his sleeves to squeeze his shoulders. Her touch still sent a fissure of heat through him, no bond required.

Luna shivered. Her lips parted with a gasp, pretty and pink and warm.

“Goddamnit,” Oliver muttered and lurched down to crush their mouths together.

Luna groaned. Her hands knotted in his hair, urging him closer. She tasted like bond nectar and herbs and the hot chocolate she drank earlier. Oliver licked deeper into her mouth until it was pure Luna, nothing else.

“Gotta be fast,” Oliver slurred against her lips. “Fiancé’s waiting.”

She nodded frantically, scrabbling at his clothes.

Their hands kept tripping over each other, clumsy in their eagerness.

Oliver couldn’t believe how much he wanted her.

He couldn’t feel what she was feeling, but the want was just as bad as it’d been when the bond was yanking them together.

The only difference was that now it was all his.

“I keep expecting—” Luna cut off with a moan as he bit gently at her neck. “I keep expecting it to kick in. You know? Like, to feel—”

“Please don’t,” Oliver said. He didn’t want to hear her talk about the times they’d had together in this very bedroom, the shared sensations blurring until they couldn’t tell which ecstasy belonged to whom.

She was still wearing her bra and he still had his boxers when he pushed her onto the bed and dropped to his knees. But before he could bury his face between her legs, Luna forced his chin up.

“Not this time,” she said. “Get up here. I want you inside me.”

The words set a fire in Oliver’s stomach. He shot up onto the bed, grabbing a condom from the bedside drawer.

Luna rolled it onto his cock and then climbed on, both of them moaning as she bottomed out. He caught her hips, trying to see if she was taking it too fast. But there was nothing but pleasure in her expression as she worked herself on him.

“Come on,” she moaned. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

She meant like the first time. Hard and primal, holding her bruisingly tight. He even considered it: pushing her into the mattress face-first, holding her there while he fucked her. The idea of it made his stomach twist. If this was the last time, he wanted it to be slower. Wanted to make it last.

He pressed her back into the sheets, twining their fingers together above her head.

Something like surprise flickered over her face, but it was quickly lost as he started to thrust in earnest. She bit her lip, and Oliver waited to feel the echo in his own lip.

It never came, and he buried his face in her neck so she wouldn’t see whatever shitshow expression was happening on his face right now.

He missed her. He was inside of her, and he wanted to be closer.

Wanted to feel what she was feeling, wanted to hear the tail-ends of her thoughts.

He wanted deeper, wanted more, wanted everything they’d agreed they wouldn’t have.

Screw blocking each other out, screw not pushing deeper, he wanted all of Luna. And now he’d never get it.

Luna squeezed his fingers with a whimper. “Knot me. Fuck, Oliver, please knot me.”

Oliver gritted his teeth. “Can’t. No time.”

“Please,” she said, voice choked with tears. “I love it so much, please, I love it…”

For a moment, Oliver considered it: thrusting as deep as he could, locking them together. Teasing the knot gently back and forth, never quite pulling out, the way she liked. Sending her out to her fiancé forty minutes later than she’d promised, her hair a wreck, drenched in his scent.

“I love,” she repeated. Then she cut off, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp as she came.

Maybe it was an echo. A phantom sensation from the bond. Maybe it was his own brain making things up. But a familiar warmth panged in his chest, his own orgasm chasing hers. He pulled out at the last moment, jerking himself around the condom. Watching the base of his cock swell around his fist.

Luna whimpered. He dropped his head on her shoulder in a silent apology. Then, against his own better judgment, he kissed the bandage on her thumb.

Neither of them spoke. Finally, Oliver sat up, wincing as he pulled the condom off his swollen knot.

“You should get going,” he said as he tied it off. “Five minutes are up.”

Luna nodded. She wiped her cheeks.

“Intense,” she whispered. She gave him a brisk smile, as she always did when he was worried he’d hurt her. Then she pushed herself up, adjusting the bra strap they’d never gotten around to taking off.

He watched her get dressed. Watched her apply deodorant and finger-comb her hair until she looked totally normal. Even her smell was normal, the deodorant drowning him out.

She paused at the door. “Thank you. Not just for the sex. For…letting me stay, I guess? At the inn, obviously. But also, you know, with…” Her eyes were glossy, but only until she blinked. Then she was picture-perfect, ready to go back to her real life.

“I had such a fun time with you,” she finished. She gave him one last smile, then flounced out.

Oliver lay there with his knot aching and his boxers around his ankles. He’d never felt emptier. He felt cold. It was so much worse like this. Holding her close, knowing he’d never do it again. He never should’ve let her back into his room.