Page 21 of Grizzly’s Grump (Shifters of Redwood Rise #1)

The initial stroke of his tongue is gentle, exploratory—a claiming and a promise.

My hips jolt, a ragged gasp spilling from me as pleasure spirals outward, sharp and liquid and hot.

He moans against me, the sound vibrating straight through my core, then licks me again, slower this time, more deliberate.

Like he wants to memorize every inch of me from the inside out.

He doesn't stop. His mouth is relentless, devoted, coaxing cries from my throat I didn't know I could make.

He licks and sucks and slides his tongue over every sensitive place with aching precision, his stubble grazing the insides of my thighs just enough to make me shiver.

My hands fist the sheets, legs trembling, as he drags me closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers anchor me—thumbs pressed to my hipbones, holding me open while his tongue works in slow, punishing circles.

Every motion is reverent and ravenous all at once, a worship and a taking.

He groans into me again when I moan his name.

Something in that sound snaps loose inside me—like the ley lines themselves are listening, waiting.

For one suspended breath, it’s not just Calder’s mouth on me—it’s everything.

The heat, the bond, the wildness pressing in from the woods.

I let go with a cry I don’t recognize as my own.

I grip the sheets, gasping for air; my thighs shaking around his head as his tongue circles and flicks, enticing me to the brink. He hums softly in his throat when I scream out—an approving vibration coursing through my core.

When I climax, it overwhelms me like a tsunami: unstoppable and all-consuming. I call his name; my hips bucking; but he doesn't relent—he surfs the wave with me, extracting every last quiver from my body until I cave in, limp and exhausted.

He eventually rises, eyes hazy with passion; his mouth gleaming with the proof of his dedication. He hovers over me for a moment, supporting himself on his arms, his heavy breaths brushing against my cheek.

My body is still trembling from the aftershock, but the craving in his eyes ignites a fresh spark within me. He doesn't speak—not yet—but the way he looks at me communicates everything. He craves more. We both do.

He kisses me—gently and deeply, allowing me to taste myself on his tongue—and I moan into his mouth, drawing him nearer. His body slides against mine: all heat and sinew; every inch of him pressing into me with barely restrained control.

When he eases between my thighs, I open for him instinctively; our bodies fitting together with breathless ease.

He grinds his hips against me; the head of his cock is slick and pulsating where he presses against my entrance.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he doesn’t waver.

With one powerful thrust, he’s inside me—thick, deep, perfect—and I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as my body stretches around him, overwhelmed by the raw, exquisite fullness. He groans low, the sound dark and guttural, his forehead pressing to mine as he begins to move.

“Now,” he growls again, voice rough with hunger and need.

He doesn't hesitate. He grips my hips, shifting us into perfect alignment before driving into me again.

I gasp, his name a fractured plea as he fills me over and over.

He's everywhere—inside, around, surrounding me completely. There’s no space between us, no air—only heat and the relentless rhythm of us coming undone together.

My back bows with every thrust, his body pounding into mine with a rhythm that feels primal, unstoppable.

Each stroke is fierce and claiming, like he’s carving himself into my core, branding every part of me with his need.

I meet him without hesitation—hips rising, fingernails raking down the taut muscles of his back, my mouth parted on a moan that sounds more like a cry.

He lowers his head, his breath scorching against my skin before his teeth graze the shell of my ear, a possessive scrape that sends a lightning jolt straight to my core.

"You're mine," he growls. "Say it."

"I'm yours," I gasp, uttering the words from a deep-rooted place within me.

"Again."

"Yours, Calder. Yours."

Something inside of him shatters then; his rhythm turns wild—controlled solely by the fierce force of his will. I climax intensely, shouting out as he follows suit—a guttural noise tearing from his chest as he collapses onto me.

We lie there in the aftermath, tangled and breathless, hearts still racing in sync.

He brushes his lips over my forehead, breath still uneven. “You wreck me,” he murmurs.

I slide my fingers through his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. “Good. I want every piece.”

I don’t know what stirs me first—the scent of him on my skin or the weight of his body still draped over mine.

Calder’s arm is heavy across my waist, his breath steady against the back of my neck, anchoring me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

But the moment I shift to turn toward him, he moves, too.

His hand slides up my side, palm warm against my skin. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he murmurs.

I turn fully, meeting his eyes. There’s no evasion in them now—just honesty, thick with vulnerability.

“I was born like this,” he says quietly. “Me, my brothers, the other shifters—we’re born shifters. It’s hard-wired in our DNA. It goes all the way back to when the ley lines first split the world—when something ancient carved a path between wild and human. That’s when our kind began.”

I stare at him, breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “So… it’s inherited?”

He nods. “Mostly. But shifters can claim humans, too, in various ways—with canines and felines, it's a bite. With bears, it's through a ritual mingling of our blood. The shifter DNA overwrites the human DNA. The ley lines recognize the bond—blood of my blood. It doesn’t just tie you to the person. It awakens something inside. It changes you.”

"How does it work?"

"Generally, we have a bonding ritual similar to a wedding.

At the end of the ceremony, I would take a ceremonial knife that's been in my family for thousands of years.

We cut a small X in each of our palms and then bind them together with a ceremonial chord.

My blood transfers to you and initiates a change in your DNA. "

"Does it hurt? Hey wait, did you just ask me to marry you?"

Calder laughs. "I was wondering if you were going to notice that. And yes, my mate, I am asking you to marry me and bind yourself to me."

I know it's crazy. We haven't known each other very long, but I feel as though my soul has always been waiting for his. I know this is what I want.

"Yes, Calder Hayes, I will marry you and become bonded to you."

Later that morning, back at the food truck, I’m behind the counter when Marcy Bell strolls up, her eyes scanning the chalkboard menu and then narrowing on me with pointed interest.

“Well, look who’s glowing,” she teases, dropping a five into the tip jar. “Given that Calder is in the very best mood I've ever seen him, I'm going to assume you two finally worked things out between you.”

I snort, passing her a pastry. “You need to stop getting your gossip from Fen.”

June Kessler appears a few minutes later, quiet as ever but with a sharpness in her gaze. “You’re much braver than most women would be—shifter or human,” she murmurs, her eyes flicking toward the tree line. “Calder… he carries more than most realize.”

“His scars?” I ask quietly.

June just nods. “And the ones you can’t see.”

Later, Sawyer swings by with a wink and exaggerated stretch. “So. You finally broke the big guy?”

“More like he finally cracked that grizzly shell open,” I mutter, smiling. “Took him long enough.”

Beau doesn’t say much when he shows—just lingers at the corner of the food truck, watching the woods. He nods at me, eyes sharp and knowing, signaling his approval.

When I'm cleaning up from my morning baking, I see a note folded on the driver's side seat. I unfold it.

Welcome to Redwoods Rise.

You are the one he and the ley lines have waited for. He was wrong about Mary Ann. She was never right, but didn't have the courage to tell him. You will be one with him, and all will be well.

Fen

I've heard the name spoken with reverence. When Calder returns, I corner him behind the truck, heart pounding. “I need to ask you something. I got a note from Fen. She said I needed to ask you about Mary Ann. She said I’m the one the ley lines have been waiting for.” I swallow. “What does that even mean, Calder?”

“It means they’ve chosen you. Just like I did.” He goes still.

“I don’t want secrets between us.”

He exhales as if he’s been holding that breath for years. “She was someone I thought I could save. But I didn’t love her—not like this. Not like you.”

My chest tightens. “So why did it matter so much?”

“Because I failed her. We failed each other, and I didn't see it in time, although Fen tried to warn me. It made me think I’d fail everyone after. Especially you.”

"June seemed to think I was brave..."

"You are, but some people think our line is cursed. I don't believe that... not anymore."

I snort. "You can't curse a baker—we have too much sugar, butter and vanilla to be cursed." I step into him, placing my hand over his chest. “You can't fail me, Calder. We'll be fine. Hey, I got Marcy to agree to carry some of my baked goods. I can do anything.”

His mouth brushes mine. “Yes, you can. But don't go into the woods alone. There's something about you that is disturbing the ley lines."

I nod. "Fen's note said that I was the one you and the ley lines were waiting for.:

"Well, they'll have to wait a few more centuries. You're mine, and I'm not giving you up.”

We’re still wrapped in that promise and each other's arms when a low rumble rolls in from the woods.

The ground gives a slow, ominous shudder beneath our feet—subtle, but impossible to ignore.

A glowing mist begins to seep through the trees, coiling low and hungry, tinged with something unnatural.

It slithers forward like it has intent, and the forest holds its breath.

Whatever peace we’ve found... the ley lines have other plans.