Page 41 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)

SONYA

T he reception still hummed outside, music spilling across Moonmirror Lake, but here—inside the small cabin that Moira and Twyla had magicked into existence just for them—everything was quiet.

Candlelight flickered over the wooden walls, soft golden glow warming the autumn chill seeping in from the lake.

It smelled faintly of cedar, pine, and smoke, layered beneath the scent that was Ryker—musk, wolf, and something uniquely his that had haunted her every vision since the moment they met.

Her heart thudded as she closed the door, shutting out the world. It was just the two of them now. Husband and wife. Mate and seer. Wolf and woman.

Ryker stood at the center of the room, his green eyes glowing like emerald fire in the lamplight.

The suit he’d been wrangled into was half undone, the tie already discarded, the first buttons of his white shirt loose enough to reveal the taut planes of his chest. His auburn hair was a mess from the wind and dancing, but the way it caught the flicker of firelight made him look untamed, dangerous, and utterly hers.

“You’re staring,” he said, his mouth curving in that boyish, crooked smile that always managed to undo her.

“I’m memorizing,” she whispered back. “Every inch. In case I wake up and find out this is another vision.”

He crossed the room in two strides and caught her face in his hands, tilting her head back so his eyes pinned her in place. “This is real, Sonya. You’re mine. My wife. My mate. No more running, no more waiting.” His thumb stroked along her cheekbone. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

She nodded, her throat too tight for words. The bond pulsed between them, steady and alive, making her feel both grounded and weightless.

Then his mouth covered hers.

The kiss wasn’t the hungry clash of battle or the desperate claiming of prophecy—it was slow, deep, a declaration.

His lips moved with aching tenderness, but the strength in his hands betrayed the tension coiled beneath his control.

She tasted the wine on his tongue, the heat of his breath, the promise of everything they’d yet to give each other.

Her body responded instantly, arching toward him, pressing closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest, her heartbeat racing to match his.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her bones as his hands slid down, cupping her waist, pulling her flush against the hard line of his cock already straining against his trousers.

“Ryker…” She gasped against his mouth, her fingers clutching his shirt, needing to touch more, feel more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his lips grazing her jaw, her throat, each word searing her skin.

“You. All of you. No fear, no holding back.”

That was all he needed. His mouth descended again, this time with more hunger, and he walked her backward until her calves hit the edge of the bed. She tumbled onto the mattress, laughter spilling from her lips before it turned into a moan as he followed her down, bracing himself above her.

The weight of him was intoxicating—the solid heat of his chest, the power in his arms, the unmistakable hardness pressing between her thighs. She shifted, her skirts tangling, desperate for more friction. He cursed softly, fumbling with the layers of her gown.

“This damn dress,” he muttered. “Beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as what’s beneath it.”

“Then take it off,” she challenged, her voice husky.

His emerald eyes flared, wolf bright, and then his hands were on her, sliding beneath the fabric, pushing it up inch by inch.

The roughness of his palms contrasted with the reverence of his touch, worshipful and desperate at once.

He bared her slowly, deliberately, until the gown was gathered at her waist, her skin revealed to the cool air and the heat of his gaze.

“God, Sonya.” His breath shuddered out of him as his eyes devoured her. “You’re fucking perfect.”

She trembled beneath the intensity of it, but lifted her hips in invitation. “Show me.”

He stripped the rest of the gown away with a wolf’s impatience, leaving her in only the delicate slip of underwear beneath.

His shirt was next, tossed aside, revealing the lean, powerful build she had memorized in stolen glimpses.

Broad shoulders, chest dusted with auburn hair, muscles honed for strength but built with the grace of a swimmer.

Scars mapped his skin, silent reminders of battles fought, but to her they were marks of survival, proof of the man he was.

She reached up, tracing one along his ribs with trembling fingers. “Every mark tells me more about you. And I want all of you.”

His control snapped. With a growl, he covered her mouth again, kissing her with raw possession as his hands slid down, hooking her underwear and pulling it away in one swift motion. She gasped as the air touched her bare skin, and then his hand was there, fingers sliding through her slick folds.

“Already so wet for me,” he groaned against her lips. “Your pussy’s begging, Sonya.”

Her hips jerked as he teased her clit, slow circles that had her clutching at his shoulders. “Ryker—please?—”

“I love when you beg.” His lips brushed her ear, his voice dark and reverent. “But I’ll give you everything, mate.”

He slid one thick finger inside her, then another, stretching her, filling her. She moaned, her body arching into the rhythm he set, each thrust of his fingers matched by the press of his cock against her thigh.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. “So ready to take me.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “I need you inside me. Now.”

He withdrew, and for a heartbeat she thought he’d tease her longer. But then he was shoving his trousers down, freeing his cock. Her breath caught—it was thick, long, flushed with need. The sight of him undone, trembling with restraint, sent a rush of heat through her.

He positioned himself at her entrance, eyes locking with hers. “Once I’m in, there’s no turning back. You’ll be mine in every way.”

“I already am.” Her hand cupped his cheek. “Forever.”

With a groan torn from his soul, he pushed into her.

The stretch was exquisite, burning and blissful all at once as his cock slid deep, inch by inch, until he filled her completely. Her cry mingled with his groan as they clung to each other, their bond flaring so bright it felt like starlight igniting behind her eyes.

“God, Sonya,” he rasped, his forehead dropping to hers. “You feel like heaven. Like fucking home.”

“You are home,” she whispered, her nails digging into his back. “Always.”

He began to move, slow at first, savoring every thrust, every gasp, every desperate moan.

Their bodies found a rhythm that felt ancient, primal, the dance of mates written into their very bones.

Each stroke of his cock inside her sent sparks racing through their bond, her seer’s power flaring with every pulse of magic between them.

Her legs wrapped around his waist. “Harder,” she panted. “I can take it.”

His wolf surged, control unraveling. With a snarl, he drove into her, hard and deep, each thrust claiming her, marking her, sealing what the prophecy had foretold. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the cabin, mingling with their cries and the ragged rhythm of breath.

“Mine,” he growled, biting gently at her throat.

“Yes,” she gasped, clutching him tighter. “Yours. Always.”

Pleasure built, coiling hotter and tighter, until she was trembling, her body on the edge of breaking apart. “Ryker—I’m?—”

“Come with me,” he groaned, his pace brutal now, every thrust angled to drag her over the edge. “Now, Sonya—let go.”

Her climax tore through her like wildfire, her vision exploding with light as her pussy clenched hard around him. She cried out his name, her body convulsing, and felt his release crash into hers, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her with a hoarse cry of triumph.

For a long moment, there was nothing but heat, magic, and the bond knitting them so tightly together she could no longer tell where she ended and he began.

When the tremors finally eased, he collapsed against her, burying his face in her curls, his body still sheathed within hers.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “Forever. No fear, no prophecy. Just us.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held him close. “Forever,” she echoed, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

Outside, the music played on, but inside their world had narrowed to this bed, this love, this moment. And Sonya knew, with absolute certainty, that nothing—not fate, not fear, not darkness—could ever take this from them.