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The bond between them pulsed like a heartbeat, and suddenly Lyra understood what was happening.

The magical connection wasn't just about power or destiny or ancient responsibilities.

It was about them—about the way her chaos magic calmed in his presence, about the way his wolf had recognized her as mate before his human mind had caught up, about the electricity that sparked between them every time they touched.

"Cade," she said, his name coming out like a prayer.

"I know," he said, and then he was kissing her.

The kiss was desperate and claiming and nothing like the gentle almost-contact they'd shared in the forest clearing.

This was all hunger and need and the kind of supernatural recognition that bypassed rational thought entirely.

Lyra's magic exploded around them in waves of golden light, and Cade's wolf surged so close to the surface that she could feel fangs against her lips.

The founders' spirits faded into the background as more immediate concerns took over.

Cade's hands were in her hair, on her waist, pulling her closer as if he could somehow merge them into one being through sheer force of will.

Lyra's magic was singing, wrapping around them both in spirals of power that made the air shimmer with heat.

"This is insane," she gasped against his mouth.

"Completely," Cade agreed, pressing her back against the cellar wall. "But I can't stop."

"Don't stop," Lyra said, and the words came out fiercer than she'd intended. "Don't you dare stop."

The bond between them flared brighter, and suddenly stopping wasn't an option for either of them.

Cade's hands were everywhere—tangling in her hair, skimming along her sides, pulling at the fabric of her shirt with an urgency that suggested he'd been thinking about this for far longer than the few days they'd known each other.

Lyra's magic was responding to every touch, every kiss, every ragged breath. Golden light flickered along her skin like living jewelry, and she could feel her power twining with his until she couldn't tell where her magic ended and his wolf began.

"Lyra," Cade said against her throat, his voice rougher than she'd ever heard it. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this is too fast, too complicated, too?—"

"It's all of those things," Lyra interrupted, her hands already working at the buttons of his flannel shirt. "And I don't care."

The admission seemed to snap something in Cade's control.

One moment he was a man teetering on the edge of restraint.

The next, he was all heat and hunger, a storm breaking loose.

His hands gripped her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world, dragging her flush against him, his mouth claiming the curve of her neck with a groan that was nearly a growl.

"Fuck, Lyra," he rasped against her skin. "I’ve been trying to stay away—trying to be good—but you make me forget everything."

Her fingers fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer, because she didn't want good. Not now. Not after everything. “Then forget,” she whispered, breathless. “I want all of you.”

His wolf surged forward in answer, and suddenly she was lifted off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct as he pinned her against the cool stone wall.

The chill of the rock was nothing compared to the heat rolling off Cade’s body.

He was fire and want and something deeper—something that felt like home.

Lyra gasped when his hips pressed between her thighs, his cock already thick and hard against her clothed center. Even through their clothes, it made her whimper.

“Feel that?” he growled, rutting against her slowly, deliberately. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you breathe, every time you look at me like you don’t know how fucking gorgeous you are—it drives me insane.”

Her back arched. “Then do something about it.”

That was all the permission he needed.

Their mouths met in a crash of tongues and teeth, the kiss messy and consuming. Cade kissed like he fought—dominating, demanding, but with a reverence that made her ache. His hand slipped beneath her sweater, splaying wide over her ribs before dragging up to cup her breast.

"No bra?" he murmured, voice wrecked with arousal as his thumb grazed her nipple. "You trying to kill me, witch?"

"Maybe," she managed, though the word was broken by a moan when he took the peak between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Say you want this,” he growled. “Say you want me.”

"I do," she breathed. “I’ve wanted you even before I understood why. I want your mouth, your cock, your wolf—I want all of it.”

A sound tore from his throat. Animal. Worshipful.

Then they were moving—staggering across the cellar until he found a thick, timeworn rug and laid her down like she was something sacred.

Magic shimmered through the air, humming with the echo of the founders, but Cade’s presence made it feel safe, grounded.

Their clothes vanished with impatient hands and careless magic—flannel tossed aside, leggings peeled down, boots kicked across the room.

And then she was bare beneath him, bathed in the rune’s ethereal blue glow, her skin kissed with golden light that sparked at every brush of his touch.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” Cade murmured, tracing reverent fingers down the curve of her hip, the inside of her thigh. His voice was low and wrecked and far too sincere. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop needing you.”

“Then don’t,” she said, threading her fingers into his hair, guiding his mouth where she wanted him.

He kissed a path down her body—between her breasts, across her stomach—pausing just long enough to breathe her in.

And then his mouth was on her pussy, hot and wet and greedy.

Lyra cried out, back bowing off the rug as he licked her like he was starved.

His tongue swirled over her clit, firm and unrelenting, while his fingers slid through her folds, dipping inside her with maddening control.

“Gods,” she gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. “Cade—fuck—don’t stop?—”

He didn’t. He groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her clit like thunder.

Every flick of his tongue pushed her higher, the bond between them glowing hot and gold in the space between their bodies.

Her magic pulsed out, responding to his touch, illuminating the shadows and setting the rune aglow.

“I can taste your magic,” Cade growled, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes. His lips were wet with her, his gaze burning. “It’s everywhere. Inside me. Wrapped around my cock even when I’m not inside you yet.”

“Then do it,” she begged, dragging him up her body, her legs wrapping around him again. “I need you, Cade. Now.”

He growled—something wild and possessive and not entirely human—then guided his cock to her entrance, pressing just the head inside her soaked pussy.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

She did—and then he thrust into her in one slow, devastating stroke.

Her mouth fell open in a soundless cry as he filled her, thick and hard and perfect. Her body stretched around him, claimed him, welcomed him like she’d been made for this.

“Fuck, Lyra,” he gritted, buried to the hilt. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

She couldn't speak—her body too full, too overwhelmed. He stayed there for a breathless moment, their foreheads pressed together, the magic between them pulsing like a shared heartbeat.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want you,” she whispered, her fingers dragging down his back. “I want you deeper.”

His control shattered.

He moved inside her with a rhythm that was both desperate and worshipful. Each thrust sent pleasure spiraling through her, and her magic surged in response, coiling around him, merging. Cade growled her name, grinding deeper, angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her sob.

They didn’t stay in one position long.

Cade flipped her onto her hands and knees, dragging her hips back to meet him as he plunged into her from behind, his cock slamming into her with a force that made the rune flare and the air tremble.

His hand wrapped around her throat, not tight, but grounding—his breath hot against her shoulder as he whispered, “You’re mine. Every inch. Every moan. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, wrecked and radiant and utterly undone. “Always.”

His thrusts faltered for a moment, like the words hit something raw in him. Then he pulled out, flipped her onto her back again, and drove back into her with a groan that sounded like relief.

“I’m not going to last,” he warned, panting, “Not when you’re squeezing me like this. Fuck, baby, you’re milking my cock.”

“Then come,” she said, pulling him down to kiss her—deep and filthy and tender all at once. “Come with me.”

And she did—seconds later, her climax crashing through her in a blinding burst of gold and white.

Her pussy clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and with a broken curse, Cade followed, thrusting once, twice more before burying himself deep and groaning her name into the space between her collarbone and throat.

He collapsed against her, both of them panting, their bodies still humming with aftershocks. Magic crackled in the air around them, soft and satisfied now, and the rune beneath the rug gave off a content glow.

Afterward, they clung to each other in the darkness of the cellar, both breathing hard and trying to process what had just happened.

Lyra's magic was still humming contentedly, wrapped around Cade's wolf energy like they'd been designed to fit together.

The branding on her palm was glowing steadily, no longer painful but somehow complete.

"Holy sage," Lyra breathed, her forehead pressed against Cade's shoulder. "What did we just do?"

Cade was quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening around her as if he could hold onto this moment forever. Then, gradually, she felt him starting to withdraw—not physically, but emotionally. The warmth in his expression faded, replaced by something that looked disturbingly like panic.

"Cade?" she said, suddenly uncertain. "Are you okay?"

"I—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair in the gesture she'd learned meant he was struggling with something. "This shouldn't have happened."

The words hit Lyra like cold water. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I just claimed you against a cellar wall because some ancient spirits told us we were supposed to be together," Cade said, his voice flat with self-recrimination. "I lost control. Completely."

"We both lost control," Lyra said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "That's not the same thing as?—"

"Isn't it?" Cade was already reaching for his discarded clothes, not meeting her eyes. "You felt the bond forming. You know what that means."

"I know it felt right," Lyra said quietly. "I know I've never felt anything like it."

"That's the problem." Cade's voice was getting more distant with every word. "You can't trust what you felt down here. The founder magic, the spirits, the rune—it's all designed to push bloodlines together. What happened between us might not have been real."

The suggestion stung worse than any physical blow. "It felt real to me."

"Did it? Or did it feel like magic?"

Lyra stared at him, trying to understand how they'd gone from the most intense connection she'd ever experienced to this cold stranger who was acting like what they'd shared had been some kind of supernatural accident.

"Get dressed," Cade said, his tone carefully neutral. "I'll drive you back to the B&B."

"I'm staying here," Lyra said, lifting her chin defiantly. "This is my inn."

"Not tonight. Not after—" He gestured vaguely at the space between them. "Not until we figure out what the bond means and whether it can be broken."

"Broken?" The word came out sharper than Lyra had intended. "You want to break it?"

"I want to make sure we have a choice about it," Cade said, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes. "Founder bonds are... complicated. Binding. I won't trap you in something you didn't choose freely."

With that, he was gone, leaving Lyra alone in the cellar with the fading glow of the rune and the devastating realization that the most perfect moment of her life had apparently been nothing more than supernatural manipulation.

At least, according to the man who'd just walked away from her like she meant nothing at all.