Page 44 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

Georgia

“ M orning, love.” Ryan’s voice rumbles against my neck, rough with sleep and something hungrier.

I stretch like a cat in his arms, feeling Luna purr with contentment beneath my skin. “Morning, heart.” When I turn to face him, those ice-blue eyes still make my stomach flip. “Sleep well?”

“Always with you.” His hand traces lazy circles on my bare hip, each touch sending sparks through our bond. “Though Kane’s getting restless. Full moon tonight.”

Luna practically claws at my ribs in response. “Luna too. She’s panting to run until our paws bleed, then claim our mate under open sky.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, heat flashing in his gaze. “That’s all, huh?”

I laugh, shoving at his chest. “Knowing Luna, she also wants to hunt something first. Maybe chase a few deer. Work up an appetite.”

“You’re getting comfortable with your duality.”

“I love it.” I nip at his jaw, tasting salt and pine. “But I love you more.”

The kiss that follows erases everything else. His hands tangle in my hair while our bond flares silver-bright between us. No pack responsibilities, no visiting Alphas wanting alliances, no diplomatic headaches. Just Ryan and Georgia, mates who breathe for each other.

Early morning light catches the rainbow shimmer in his eyes when we break apart. I’m breathless and glowing—literally. My skin radiates that telltale luminescence that means Luna is very, very happy.

“Mmm.” I arch against him like I’m made of liquid heat. “No one’s tried to challenge us for leadership in two weeks. I think that’s a record.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he warns, but he’s grinning. “I love the quiet.”

Four months since we brought down a mountain with our Soul Bond’s power.

Four months since the world cracked open and magic spilled free.

Four months since we introduced a system where every wolf has their say.

It’s been a lot, to say the least. But this is what we fought to achieve.

Still, mornings like this still feel impossible—waking in our cabin without curses hanging over our heads like storm clouds.

“Though the paperwork might kill me,” I groan. “Territory agreements, alliance proposals, incident reports...”

“Mrs. Strickland’s noise complaints,” Ryan adds with a grimace.

“Three this week! And it’s only Thursday.” I trace the scars on his neck, feeling his pulse jump under my fingertips. “Some old wolves don’t appreciate a good pack howl.”

“We offered to soundproof her house.”

“She said that was ‘giving in to the beast.’“ I mimic her prim tone perfectly. “Some people live to complain.”

Ryan’s eyes darken, and I feel his wolf stir through our bond. “Speaking of beasts...”

Luna surges forward without warning—claws extending, canines sharpening, raw hunger flooding my system. The control I have now compared to those early fumbling days is intoxicating.

Ryan’s pupils dilate to black rings. “Oh, you’d better run fast, love.”

I’m out of bed like a shot, laughing as I sprint naked through our cabin. He’s right behind me, both of us wild with need, not caring about clothes or dignity. We explode through the back door and shift mid-leap.

The transformation is pure ecstasy now. No pain, no struggle—just the fluid melt from woman to wolf. Luna emerges with a joyful yip, immediately bolting for the tree line. Kane’s answering howl shakes the windows.

‘Catch me if you can,’ I tease through our bond.

‘You’ll need more than speed, pretty wolf,’ he growls back.

We tear through the forest like silver lightning. My powerful haunches launch us over fallen logs while Ryan crashes through undergrowth behind us, all brute force and determination. I can hear his heartbeat, smell his excitement mixing with pine sap and morning dew.

This forest is ours now—every trail, every stream, every moss-covered boulder. I splash through the creek, Ryan gaining fast, then double back to leap clean over his massive head.

‘Cheater,’ he accuses, mock outrage rippling through our bond.

‘Strategic thinker,’ I correct, already bounding away.

We run for miles with no destination except joy. This is what we fought for—the right to simply be wild together.

Ryan finally tackles me near a sun-dappled clearing, sending us both tumbling into soft grass. Our wolves play-fight like cubs until suddenly the playfulness shifts to something molten.

Georgia, he says through our bond, and the raw need in that single word makes me shiver.

We shift back in perfect unison. Then he’s kissing me like he’s drowning, hands fisted in my hair as he pulls me against him. I taste his desperation, his hunger, and it matches the fire clawing through my veins.

“Georgia,” he growls against my mouth.

“Here,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Now. I need?—”

He covers my body with his before I finish speaking. The sun warms our bare skin while the stream provides a gentle soundtrack to our claiming. Every touch shoots lightning through our bond until I’m drowning in sensation.

His mouth traces fire down my throat, teeth grazing where my pulse hammers. “Mine,” he rumbles.

I rake my nails down his back, marking him. “Prove it.”

He doesn’t need encouragement. When he pushes into me, slow and deliberate, we both cry out. Our bodies move together like we were forged for this exact moment. The bond between us pulses molten gold, dragging us deeper into each other’s orbit.

Through our connection, I feel everything he feels—lust, love, the primal drive to claim and protect. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

When I come, it’s wild and bright, pleasure rolling through me in waves that make me howl for real. Ryan follows immediately, my body’s grip and our soul-deep connection pulling him over the edge. He buries his face in my neck, breathing my name like a prayer.

“Mine,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “My mate. My love.”

“Yours,” I agree, still trembling. “Always yours.”

We stay tangled together, heartbeats slowly syncing while birdsong fills the clearing. Eventually Ryan props himself up, brushing damp hair from my forehead.

“I wish every morning could be like this,” he says.

I stretch in the warm grass, completely satisfied. “We’re allowed some selfishness. The world won’t collapse because we spend one morning pretending we’re ordinary wolves.”

He grins, but his eyes grow thoughtful. “It might not collapse. But they’ll come for us eventually.”

He means the other packs, the witches, the supernatural community that’s been in chaos since we broke everything open.

Some days I get fifty emails from alphas and chieftains, even vampires—all wanting to negotiate or form alliances.

It’s exhausting but thrilling. For the first time, my voice matters beyond rocks and soil samples.

But mornings like this remind me, I’m happiest wild and free with Ryan.

Eventually hunger drives us to shift again. We run home side by side, taking our time, enjoying the easy companionship. Every inch of this territory sings recognition now, our home, our pack, our perfect sanctuary.

The cabin appears through the trees, and that same rightness fills my chest. This is where it all began. Where I belong.

We shift back on the porch, grabbing the robes we’ve learned to keep handy. I’m still tying mine when a familiar voice calls out.

“Well, that’s a sight I could have lived without.”

I spin to find Scarlett smirking from the bottom of the porch steps. She looks good—healthy, stronger than before—though something careful still lingers in her eyes when she thinks no one’s watching.

“Scarlett!” I rush down to hug her. “I thought you were doing perimeter checks today.”

“I was. But look who showed up.” She steps aside with a knowing grin.

My heart stops completely.

“Georgie?”

My brother emerges from behind a massive oak, looking uncomfortable but trying to hide it behind his easy smile. He’s dressed in his usual khakis and button-down, so utterly normal in this supernatural setting I almost laugh.

“Jason?” I breathe.

Then I’m running, bare feet on grass, throwing myself into his arms like I’m eight years old again. He catches me easily, swinging me around.

“I had to see it for myself,” he says, setting me down with that grin I’ve missed so much. “My baby sister, the werewolf queen.”

“I’m not a queen,” I protest. “Just an Alpha. Jason, I can’t believe you actually came. When I called after everything happened, I thought...”

“That I’d think you were crazy?” His eyes twinkle. “I did. For about a month. Then Honey sent me this ‘fictional’ story about mountain werewolves who turn into magical stones when they die. Seemed oddly familiar.”

I laugh despite my shock. “Thank god for Honey’s creativity.”

“So I called her and Owen. They confirmed every impossible word you told me.” He shakes his head. “Spent the next month rethinking my entire worldview.”

Ryan steps forward, extending his hand. “Good to finally meet you properly, Jason. Things were a little intense last time we talked.”

Jason shakes it, studying Ryan with that investigative journalist look I know too well. “So you’re the werewolf who stole my sister.”

“Jason!” I protest.

“What? That’s what happened, right? He bit you or something?”

“He didn’t bite me! I absorbed an ancient wolf spirit from a crystallized heartstone that sliced my leg and—” I stop at Jason’s expression. “Right. That doesn’t sound better.”

Ryan chuckles. “She stumbled into my world and changed everything. I’m grateful she’s as stubborn as she is.”

“She definitely is,” Jason agrees. “I remember when she spent three weeks convincing Dad she absolutely had to go to geology camp instead of dance camp. She made a PowerPoint and everything.”

“I was eight! And rocks are infinitely more interesting than ballet.”

“You came home with twelve pounds of samples and a presentation about igneous formations.”

“It was an excellent presentation,” I say with dignity.

Scarlett snorts. “This explains everything about you.”

My chest feels tight with emotion—relief, joy, the overwhelming rightness of having my brother here in my new world. But underneath, something else stirs. A flutter of anticipation, like standing at the edge of a cliff.

“How long can you stay?” I ask.

“Just today. Have to head back before dark—mountain roads are tricky enough in daylight.”

One day. It’s not enough, but it’s everything.

“Come on,” I say, tugging him toward the cabin. “Let me get dressed properly, then I’ll show you everything. Prove I’m not living in some cult compound.”

“Dad’s still convinced you joined a commune,” Jason admits. “Mom thinks you’re secretly pregnant and hiding from them.”

“I’m not pregnant! I’m just magically bonded to a former hermit werewolf. Much more reasonable.”

Jason’s laughter follows us inside, and for the first time in months, I feel like all the pieces of my life might actually fit together.