Page 33

LYRA

L yra woke to the sound of rain tapping against glass.

Soft. Rhythmic. Familiar.

The air smelled like pine and something deeper—warm and wild, like smoke clinging to skin, like home.

She didn’t know where she was at first.

But then she shifted, felt the weight of blankets over her, the press of a firm mattress beneath her hips, the subtle ache in her body from magic overspent—and the scent that wrapped around her like a second soul.

Jace.

She turned her head slowly.

He was sitting in the chair by the bed, elbows on his knees, gaze locked on her like she might vanish again if he blinked. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, but his eyes… they burned with something raw. Protective. Tender.

“Hey,” he said, voice husky.

“Hey,” she echoed, throat dry.

He stood and crossed the room in two long strides, crouching beside her bed like he was still trying to figure out if she was real.

“I told you I’d be here when you woke,” he said.

Her lips curved. “I almost believed you.”

“I meant it.” His hand found hers, rough fingers curling around her smaller ones. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She searched his face, looking for cracks. For the familiar hesitations. But they weren’t there.

He looked tired. Ragged. But present .

All in.

“You okay?” he asked.

She swallowed hard. “I think so. I feel like I got hit by a runaway magical hay bale, but otherwise… yeah.”

“Your power—what you did—Lyra, I’ve never seen anything like it. At least the aftermath of it.”

She smiled faintly. “Guess that’s what happens when you piss off a chaos witch.”

His expression twisted between awe and guilt. “You scared me.”

“You broke my heart,” she whispered, then squeezed his hand. “But you fixed it.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the air between them buzzing—not just with magic, but with everything they hadn’t said. Everything they’d finally felt .

He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I know I’ve messed this up more times than I can count. I was scared. But not anymore.”

She blinked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, slow and sure. “I love you. And that’s what scared me. And it’s not just because of the bond. It’s you. I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

She stared at him, her heart thudding louder than the rain.

Then she reached for him.

Her hands slid around his shoulders as she pulled him down, and he went willingly, gently, onto the mattress beside her. Their lips met, slow, trembling at first, like they were both afraid to breathe too deep and break the spell.

But then the fear burned off. And what was left was fire.

Lyra shifted, sliding her leg over his hip, straddling him as he cradled her back with both hands. His touch was reverent, his mouth brushing over hers like he couldn’t get enough. She kissed him back with everything she had—soft and sweet and desperate .

“Jace,” she whispered, dragging his shirt up over his head, her hands mapping the ridges of muscle she’d only brushed before.

His hands roamed her sides, fingers tracing the curve of her spine, her waist, until he paused. “Are you sure?”

She kissed his jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans.

Jace’s breath hitched—a fractured sound that dissolved into a growl as he caught her hands, pressing them into the mattress.

His storm-grey eyes locked onto hers, pupils blown wide.

“Slow,” he murmured, the word gravel and smoke. “We don’t rush this.”

She arched beneath him, her laugh breathless. “You’re the one who shifted into a wolf and sprinted through three wards to drag me out of that hellscape. Slow isn’t your style.”

He nipped her lower lip, the sharp edge of his teeth contrasting with the softness of his mouth. “For you,” he said, peeling her shirt over her head, “I’ll learn.”

Clothes fell like leaves, his jeans, her skirt, the lace of her bra catching on a silver ring before he unhooked it with a reverence that made her shiver.

The air between them hummed, her magic swirling in golden motes that danced against his skin.

When his palm slid up her ribcage, she gasped, her back bowing off the bed.

“Jace—”

“Tell me.” His lips traced the hollow of her throat, fingers drifting lower, teasing the damp heat between her thighs. “Tell me what you need.”

Her hips rolled against his hand, a broken sound escaping her. “You. All of you.”

He stilled, his forehead pressing against hers. A tremor ran through him, alpha control fraying. “Lyra…”

She carded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently until his gaze met hers. “No more hiding.”

Lyra's heart thundered in her chest, a wild rhythm that matched the storm raging outside the cabin.

A shuddering breath escaped her, the air heavy with the scent of pine and campfire that always clung to Jace.

Then his mouth crashed into hers, hot and hungry, as he nudged her legs wider with a knee.

His calloused hands gripped her hips, the touch firm yet tender, aligning their bodies with an urgency that was both a demand and a plea.

The first press of him stole her breath, a sensation thick and relentless, stretching her in a way that felt more right than anything she had ever known. She dug her heels into the small of his back, urging him deeper, her body arching to meet his with a desperate need that bordered on pain.

Jace's response was a low growl that resonated through her, a sound that was all wolf and entirely his own.

His storm-grey eyes locked onto hers, a silent promise that he would give her everything she asked for and more.

With each thrust, the world outside ceased to exist, the chaos that Lyra wielded so carelessly now tamed into a shared rhythm that bound them together.

Her fingers explored the contours of his back, tracing the scars that told tales of battles fought and won.

The muscles beneath her touch bunched and released as he moved within her, his control slipping with every passing moment.

The air around them crackled with energy, her magic rising to meet the intensity of their connection, golden motes of light swirling around them in a dance as old as time.

"Jace," she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and desire.

"I've got you," he murmured against her lips, his voice a rough caress that sent shivers down her spine.

And she believed him, surrendering to the man who had chased her through wards and into his life, the alpha who had learned to run at her pace, to savor the chaos she brought into his world.

In the sanctuary of his arms, Lyra found her anchor, her laughter and his growls intertwining as they climbed higher, chasing a pleasure that was theirs and theirs alone.

“Look at me,” he gritted out, sweat beading along his temples as he sheathed himself fully.

Her eyes fluttered open. The raw vulnerability in his stare cracked her ribs wide open.

They moved like colliding galaxies—slow, then all at once. Each thrust dragged a moan from her throat, each withdrawal a whimper. His lips mapped her skin, worshiping scars and secrets alike, while her nails scored red lines down his shoulders.

“Mine,” he growled, the wolf in his voice vibrating against her pulse point.

“Yours,” she gasped, magic sparking in her veins as the coil in her belly tightened. “Always?—”

His hand slid between them, thumb circling her clit in rough, perfect strokes. She shattered with a cry, her back arching as pleasure ripped through her. He followed moments later, his roar muffled against her neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he muttered, though his arms tightened around her.

She smiled into his collarbone. “Took you long enough.”

When they stilled, breath mingling in the quiet after, Jace gathered her close, resting his forehead to hers.

“You’re everything,” he said softly. “And I’m never letting go.”

She tucked her face into his neck, fingers tracing his jaw.

“You better not,” she whispered. “Or I swear I’ll hex your ass.”

He chuckled, low and warm.

And when the rain faded into the hum of a sleepy town, Lyra finally let herself drift.

Safe.

Loved.

Home.