Page 28

“Serena,” he murmured, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “I want to claim you. I want to mark you as my mate.”

A shiver ran through me, igniting a warmth that spread from the birthmark on my wrist to every corner of my being.

With a playful smirk that belied the emotion swirling within me, I met his gaze head-on. “I’m not asking,” I whispered against his lips. “I’m telling you. I’m yours.”

This wasn’t just about desire. It was about choosing each other—against fate, against blood, against everything we were told we couldn’t be.

The heat between us was already building again.

I suddenly couldn’t remember when or how we made it to his room, but I could remember the way his body felt, how the roughness of his stubble brushed against my skin, and the unexpected softness of the fur beneath me.

My mind raced ahead, wanting to know how we would be together now.

Without the curse. Without anything but us.

I remembered the look in his eyes as he came undone the first time.

As he pushed me to the edge right along with him.

My cheeks burned, but this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment.

His voice pulled me back, mischief sparking in his eyes. “I’m going to keep you here all night, you know that? It won’t be gentle, but I’ll make this worth it.”

“I know,” I said, feeling bold and reckless. He watched me, unblinking, and I wondered if he felt like I did. Raw. Vulnerable. Completely out of control and not caring.

“I meant what I said,” he told me, his voice catching. “You’re mine , now.” He pulled me close again, the weight of him a reminder that I wasn’t dreaming, that this was all happening. I sighed against him, not knowing where I ended, and he began.

When his hands moved down my back, I felt every inch of him come alive. Mine. Like it was the first time we touched. I needed him closer, deeper. The hunger took over as if it would never be enough.

It was hunger—raw, restrained only by the thinnest thread of control. Hands cupped my face, thumbs grazing my cheekbones, but the kiss was anything but gentle. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming every inch.

He broke away with a growl, backing me toward the fireplace. “Take off your clothes,” he rasped.

I obeyed, peeling the fabric from my skin piece by piece under his smoldering gaze. He stripped, too, and when we were bare, his body pressed me down into the softness of the furs stretched out beneath us.

He took his time.

Hot breath skimmed over my stomach, burning a trail as it went lower, lower, until his mouth found the place between my thighs.

I gasped, arching into him, his touch like electricity beneath my skin.

He held my hips to the ground, pinning me there while his tongue teased me, slow, deliberate, until I was wild with it, wild with him.

I could feel the tension coil through me, tight and hot and ready to snap, and I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

He was relentless, ruthless, licking and swirling in merciless strokes that drove me higher, drove me to madness.

I trembled, caught on the knife's edge between wanting and needing, desperate for release, desperate for him.

“Tristan,” I moaned, and the sound of his name made him groan against me—a vibration that pulled me under, pulled me in, pulling me apart.

I shattered on his tongue, crying out, my body tightening around the pleasure he gave me. It was raw, intoxicating, and I was drowning in it, in him, my voice breaking in a ragged scream of his name.

Before I could catch my breath, his mouth was at my throat. “Mine,” he growled, and then his teeth sank into my skin. Pain bloomed sharp and bright, edged with pleasure. His mark.

He brushed his lips reverently over the spot, his tongue soothing the bite, soft and tender.

I wanted to give him everything.

I pushed Tristan back and climbed over him, straddling his hips, fingers wrapping around the hard length of him.

His lips crashed against mine as I gripped tightly and pumped my hands.

Slowly I lowered my mouth to him, beads of precum glistening at the tip of his cock.

A low groan escaped his lips as I took in his hard length, slow and deep, my tongue tracing the vein that pulsed beneath the surface.

He tangled a hand in my hair, guiding me, faster and deeper.

But when his body stiffened in warning, he pulled away.

“Not yet,” he growled, flipping me to my back.

Cupping my ass, Tristan lifted me and carried me to the bed, laying me down gently.

The moonlight cut through the room, painting everything in silver, shadowing the curves and lines of our bodies.

He was inside me so fast, like he’d die if he wasn’t.

I wrapped myself around him, pulling him into me until I thought I’d disappear.

The plush blankets under my skin, his breath on my neck, the sharpness of need—it all made my head spin. I couldn’t hold on to anything but him.

He murmured against my skin, words I couldn’t make out. I wanted to hear them, but they melted away in a haze of gasps and moans. I felt the throb of him in every part of me, insistent and steady, and I wondered if he knew I’d never needed anything this much before.

I gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as he drove into me. It wasn’t gentle—it was feral, desperate, the culmination of everything we’d wanted. His hips slammed against mine, and I met him thrust for thrust, crying out as he picked up pace.

My voice broke when I begged him to keep going, keep pushing us further. I was wild with need. I wanted the promise he’d given me, that I’d given him. A sealing of everything we were. He took my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head, showing me just how serious he was.

“Tristan,” I moaned. I felt his lips curve into a smile against my neck. The weight of him, the strength, the heat was everything I needed. My own personal gravity. I gave in to him, let him pull me in, let him destroy me in the best possible way.

He shifted his angle, driving deeper, faster, harder, pushing me toward an edge I couldn’t see. I was free-falling with him, floating, weightless and light. Every nerve ending was alight, every inch of me on fire, and I loved it. I needed more of it, and Tristan knew.

He moved one hand to my throat, just a whisper of a touch, his thumb stroking softly there. Watching me as I unraveled for him. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. I needed him to see me come undone like this.

When his hips jerked and he came, I felt him pulse inside me.

“ Serena,” he groaned, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. It sent me crashing over the edge, and my vision went white.

The knot came at the last second, catching me by surprise.

It was intense and deep, like he’d claimed every last part of me.

I felt it swell and lock us together, a bond more permanent than anything I’d ever known.

It pushed us past everything I’d thought we were, sealing us, breaking us, making us whole.

When the knot took hold, I didn’t flinch.

I welcomed it. The magic between us surged like a storm breaking.

It didn’t just bind our bodies—it unbound everything that ever kept us apart.

The weight of him pressed me into the bed, and I held on as tightly as I could, like he’d slip away if I didn’t.

I never wanted to let go. Not of him. Not of this.

We stayed tangled for what felt like forever. It was breathless and perfect, and my mind was too full to even think. I kissed his shoulder, tasted the salt of his skin. I wondered if I would ever have enough of him.

“Serena,” he said again, his voice ragged and soft. I felt it more than heard it, felt it inside me, just like the knot that still tied us together.

When we could finally move again, he pulled me to his side. My head rested on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steady and slow. I let my fingers trace the scars there, and his hand smoothed my hair back from my face, gentle, a counterpoint to everything we’d just done.

We didn’t speak at first, just lay there and listened to the night. I could feel the weight of his thoughts and his heartbeat under my cheek. He turned my face to him, brushing his thumb over my lips.

“Do you think this will change everything?” he asked.

“I think we already did.” I smiled, feeling the truth of it.

His eyes met mine, serious now. “And if the mountain won’t let us have this? If my pack—”

“Then we fight it,” I said, my voice strong. “We fight everything and everyone if we have to.”

A soft smile broke across his face. “That’s my mate,” he whispered softly. “Mine,” he whispered again, forehead pressed to mine.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words soft against his skin. “I think I have for a while. I just didn’t let myself believe it could be real. I never believed in forever. Not until you. I love you, Tristan. I’m not running anymore.”

His hand curved around my face, reverent and steady. “Then I’ll never let you go.”

I clung to him, the bond thrumming between us like wildfire.

I was home, but the war wasn’t over. The pack still needed rebuilding. But for now, I had what I needed to fight for it. For him. For us.

The first light of dawn filtered through the open balcony doors, casting a soft glow on the rumpled sheets and our entwined limbs.

I stirred, the cool mountain air prickling my skin, and carefully extricated myself from Tristan's embrace.

He murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, reaching out as if to pull me back, but I slipped from the bed, wrapping a fur around my shoulders.

The balcony stones were cold beneath my bare feet, the air crisp and fresh.

The sun was just beginning to crest the mountains, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

I leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking vista of Stormvale.

The compound was quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of pack life not yet begun.

It felt like a private moment, a stolen glimpse of tranquility before the day took hold.

I heard the rustle of the sheets behind me, and then Tristan's warm presence was at my back, his arms wrapping around my waist. He nuzzled into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “Morning,” he rasped, his voice still thick with sleep.

I leaned into him, feeling the solidity of his body against mine.

“Morning,” I replied softly. We stood there in silence, watching as the sun slowly ascended, casting longer shadows across the courtyard below.

The compound seemed peaceful from this vantage point, as if the turmoil of the past weeks had never occurred.

Tristan's hands roamed gently over my body, tracing the curve of my hips, the flat of my stomach. His touch was possessive yet tender, a stark contrast to the heated passion of the night before. I could feel the hum of our bond, a steady thrum beneath my skin, connecting us in a way that was both exhilarating and comforting. The mark on my wrist pulsed softly, echoing the beat of his heart against my back. I covered his hands with mine, squeezing gently, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. This was real. We were real. I had spent my whole life waiting to be chosen. But this—this was the first time I’d chosen myself.

And I chose this. Him. Us. And despite the challenges that lay ahead, I felt a sense of peace in this moment that I hadn’t known in a long time.

The scent of the mountains filled my lungs—pine and crisp air, the faint hint of wildflowers that somehow managed to bloom in this rugged terrain.

It was a stark contrast to the heavier, earthier scents of Silver Ridge, but it was growing on me.

There was a wildness here that called to something deep within me, something that yearned to be free.

Tristan squeezed my hand, and the look in his eyes was as raw and certain as it had been when he first laid claim to me.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, brushing my birthmark.

“The mountain’s changed. So have I. You’re the only truth I’ve ever needed.

I love you, Serena. And if fate tries to take you again, I’ll rewrite the stars to keep you. ”

I turned to him, blazing with the idea of us. Tristan’s lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “What do you think fate has planned for us today?” he murmured, his voice steady.

“I don’t know,” I said with a laugh. I took a deep breath. “But this time, we don’t follow fate. We lead it.”

The mountain had stopped roaring, but it hadn’t fallen silent. There were still echoes. Still work to do. But we’d face it together.