Page 11

The trip upstairs was a blur of stolen kisses and fumbled buttons, of careful navigation around squeaky floorboards and the need to be quiet despite the desperate hunger building between them.

By the time they reached his bedroom, Griff was half-convinced he might be dreaming, that the reality of Mara Voss wanting him with the same fierce intensity he felt for her was too good to be true.

But when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran her hands over his chest with reverent appreciation, when she looked at him like he was something she'd been searching for without knowing it, he finally accepted that this was real.

She was real, and she was his, and in what felt like years, he was going to let himself have something he wanted instead of just something he needed.

Her dress came off in a whisper of fabric, revealing skin that glowed faintly in the afternoon light filtering through his bedroom windows.

She was beautiful in ways that made his chest tight with emotion, curves and softness and strength combined in proportions that seemed designed specifically to make him lose his mind with want.

"You're staring," she said, but there was no self-consciousness in her voice, only warmth and amusement and invitation.

"I'm memorizing," he corrected, his hands mapping the line of her waist, the curve of her hips, the way she shivered when he touched the sensitive spot just below her ear. "I want to remember every detail of this moment."

"We'll have more moments," she promised, her fingers working at his belt with determination that made him groan. "Lots more moments. This isn't a one-time thing, Griff. This is us choosing each other, permanently."

The rest of their clothes disappeared with the kind of urgency that could only be born from desperation.

Griff’s hands shook as he peeled the last of Mara’s dress from her skin, his breath catching at the sight of her—bare and luminous in the muted afternoon light filtering through the bedroom window.

Her skin was silk and honey, golden where the sun kissed, pale where shadows lingered, and entirely his to worship.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, the reverence in his voice stark and rough. His calloused hand slid from her collarbone to the swell of her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it peaked. “You’ve haunted every goddamn dream I’ve had since the first day I saw you.”

Mara reached for him with a breathless laugh, soft and trembling, her green eyes fever-bright. “Then stop dreaming,” she whispered, her fingers trailing over the ridges of muscle down his chest. “And touch me like I’m real. Like I’m yours.”

That was all it took to snap his restraint.

He surged forward and caught her mouth in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.

His body covered hers as he pressed her back into the mattress, hips nestled between her thighs, cock thick and already hard, sliding against her slick folds without breaching.

Her legs parted wider, welcoming him with a breathless moan, her pelvis rolling instinctively to feel more of him.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he ground out, his voice already hoarse with need.

“Griff,” she gasped, arching against him, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Too much is exactly what I want.”

He kissed her again—harder this time, with tongue and teeth and a desperation that tasted like surrender. His hand slid between them, fingers parting her folds, stroking her swollen clit with practiced reverence.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers, his fingers spreading her open, circling that sensitive bud until she shuddered. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already trembling for me.”

“It’s you,” she breathed, voice pitched high as her hips rocked against his hand.

Griff kissed his way down her throat, biting lightly at the juncture between neck and shoulder before dragging his tongue lower, to the swell of her breast. He wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked, slowly, deeply, while his fingers plunged inside her, curling just enough to find that hidden spot that made her cry out.

“Gods, yes—don’t stop,” she moaned, her thighs clenching around his wrist, her fingers threading through his hair as she arched into his mouth.

He growled against her skin, the sound low and primal, his bear brushing close to the surface, roused not by rage but by the need to claim, to protect, to pleasure.

Mara came with a cry, her walls fluttering around his fingers, her thighs trembling. Her climax hit like a wave—unexpected and all-consuming—and Griff didn’t stop until her body had wrung every shiver of pleasure from it.

When he pulled his fingers free and brought them to his mouth, licking her taste from his skin, she watched him with eyes darkened by desire and something deeper—devotion, perhaps, or awe.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted you even when I thought I couldn’t have you.”

Griff leaned over her, bracing himself on his forearms, their bodies flush. “Then let me give it to you. Everything. No holding back.”

Their mouths met again, slower this time. Less desperation, more worship. As if now that the dam had broken, they were taking their time in the flood. She reached between them, wrapped her hand around his cock—hot and heavy, pulsing in her palm—and guided him to her entrance.

“Now,” she said, breathless, trembling. “Please.”

He eased into her inch by inch, biting down on a curse as her heat enveloped him. She was snug, wet, perfect, and the way her body accepted him made his vision blur.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, jaw clenched, holding still once he was buried to the hilt. “Mara... you feel like heaven and sin and fucking salvation all at once.”

She moaned into his neck, her legs locking around his waist. “You’re so deep,” she gasped. “God, Griff—move. Please move.”

He pulled back slowly, nearly all the way out, then thrust back in with a snap of his hips that made her cry out. The sound ignited something feral in him. He set a rhythm, slow at first—deep and rolling, each thrust calculated to hit the spot that made her walls flutter and her cries grow higher.

Their bodies moved in sync, sweat-slicked and flush with magic.

Each time he pulled out and drove back in, the bed creaked beneath them, muffled only by the rhythm of their breath and the staccato of skin on skin.

The power of their magic thickened the air, laced with golden threads of protective energy, sparking and humming through the room like a living thing.

“Look at me,” she whispered, cupping his face even as he continued to move inside her. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

He opened his eyes—and nearly lost it. Her gaze was wide open, not just lust-filled but soul-bared, her love for him written in every shiver, every tremble, every kiss.

He hooked her leg over his shoulder, changing the angle so he could go deeper. Her breath hitched, and she gasped something incoherent—his name maybe, or some sacred prayer that only lovers understood.

She clenched around him, nearing again. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—I’m close again—Griff?—”

He bent and kissed her deeply, driving harder, his thrusts quickening. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Come for me. Let go.”

And she did. Her orgasm tore through her, hips jerking, thighs trembling. He felt her convulse around his cock, and the sensation—her pulsing warmth, her cries in his ear, her nails raking down his back—dragged him over the edge too.

Griff came with a guttural groan, spilling into her with a power that left his body shaking. His forehead pressed to hers as he slowed, rocking into her gently, each pulse of pleasure wringing another wave from him.

They collapsed together, tangled and breathless, limbs entwined and sweat-slicked. Mara's fingers drew idle circles on his back, soothing and grounding, and Griff buried his face in her neck, breathing her in.

“I love you,” he murmured again, softer this time. “So much it scares the hell out of me.”

Mara kissed his temple, her voice thick with exhaustion and wonder. “Then we’ll be scared together. And we’ll face whatever comes next—together.”

As their breathing slowed and their heartbeats synced, something shifted in the air again. The warmth that enveloped them wasn’t just post-coital haze—it shimmered, golden and thrumming, sealing around them like a sacred vow.

"Do you feel that?" Mara asked softly, her voice still rough from their lovemaking.

"Like we're surrounded by something," Griff confirmed, tightening his arms around her. "Something warm and safe."

Through the bedroom window, they could see a faint shimmer in the air around the house, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. But instead of distortion, the shimmer seemed to clarify everything it touched, making the colors more vivid and the shadows less threatening.

"It's a ward," Mara realized, wonder in her voice. "Our connection, our bond, it's created some kind of protective barrier around the house. Around our family."

Downstairs, they could hear Tilly's voice calling out in delight. "Daddy! Miss Mara! Come look! The house is all sparkly now, and Mr. Gruff says it means we're safe!"

Griff kissed the top of Mara's head, breathing in the scent of her hair and the satisfaction that came from knowing she was his to protect and be protected by. "I guess our daughter approves of the new magical development."

"Our daughter," Mara repeated softly, and the words carried weight with choice and love and the family they were building together.

Outside, the afternoon shadows were growing longer, and laughter carried on the wind. The entity that had worn Ruth's face was still out there, still planning whatever final move would complete centuries of manipulation and control.

But since the crisis had begun, Griff felt ready for whatever was coming.

He wasn't alone anymore, wasn't carrying the weight of protection and responsibility by himself.

He had Mara, fierce and magical and completely committed to their family's survival.

He had Tilly, wise beyond her years and powerful in ways that were only beginning to manifest.

And he had love, which the shadow beings had told them was the one thing the entity couldn't touch or corrupt or steal.

It would have to be enough. Because ready or not, the battle for Mistwhisper Falls was about to begin.