Page 37

37

Naomi

W yatt kicks the bedroom door closed behind us, so hard, the door rattles in the frame, and a picture hanging in the hallway crashes to the floor. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away, not for a second, as his eyes blaze gold in the dim light.

I barely have time to catch my breath before he sets me on my feet, large hands gripping my waist, his chest rising and falling steadily with each deep breath.

The cabin is quiet around us. The only sounds are our quickened breathing and the distant calls of night birds from the forest. Moonlight filters through the thin curtains, casting the room in silver and shadow. The air between us feels charged, electric with anticipation and need.

"You…" He growls, backing me toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps. "…have been driving me crazy."

My heart hammers against my ribs as the heat of his body radiates through the thin fabric of my shirt.

"I…" I start, but his mouth crashes against mine, and I immediately melt into him.

The kiss is nothing like the careful, controlled ones we've shared before. This is hunger unleashed, primal, and raw. His teeth catch my bottom lip, and I gasp as a jolt of arousal travels straight between my legs, my core pulling tight.

My wolf rises to meet his, eager and welcoming, recognizing her mate on the most fundamental level.

My gentle giant isn’t so gentle behind closed doors, it seems. And I love it.

His mouth finds my neck, kissing the sensitive skin in a way that makes my knees buckle. Only his hand around my back stops me from falling to the floor.

I need to tell him before this goes further. Or maybe that’s what my brain is screaming at me, but my hands have a mind of their own, sliding under the material of his shirt to get my palms flush with his heated skin.

His muscles flex beneath my touch, strong and solid. I trace the ridges of his abdomen, the broad expanse of his chest, marvelling at the contrast between the softness of his skin and the hardness of the muscle beneath. The bandage on his back is a stark reminder of how close I came to losing him, making this moment even more precious.

Those pecs. That broad expanse of muscle. The sheer size of him. It’s intoxicating.

I’m drunk on my mate, and all the shoulds I’ve been telling myself I’d do before this happened suddenly doesn’t seem that important.

“You’re all I can think about,” he says, his voice so deep and husky, it vibrates through my body and sets every nerve ending on fire.

Which is why I need to pour some cold water on this right now, or I’ll never stop.

"Wyatt," I mumble against his lips, pushing lightly against his chest.

He groans, pulling back just enough to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, the gold in his irises a thin ring around darkness. He’s as lost to this as I am.

"We should talk," I say, trying to sound reasonable when every part of me is screaming to shut up and let him devour me. My hips roll into him, feeling the impressive bulge that’s straining to get to me.

"Later," he murmurs, dropping his head to trail kisses along my neck. "Need you now."

His teeth scrape against my pulse point, and I gasp, tingles and lust making my vision swim. I dig my nails into his bulging biceps and tilt my head to give him better access to that perfect spot.

It would be so easy to give in, to let this tidal wave of need carry us both away. But a nagging voice reminds me that this isn't just about physical release. It's about a bond that will last forever. We only get one first time, and I don’t want to hurt him.

Shaking my head, I try to snap myself out of the daze I’m in. Satisfying your urges is not the most important thing, I remind myself. You need to be a good mate.

"But your injuries…"

He’s just been released, and here I am, ready to climb all over him.

"Healed." He straightens to his full height, and before I can blink, he's pulling his shirt over his head and showing me the perfect pink scar.

Holy. Shit.

Muscles ripple beneath tanned skin. The bandage that covered his back wound is gone, leaving only a faint pink line where the knife sliced him open. I run my finger over it, loving the goosebumps that appear on his skin, and the way he’s gone rigid, trying to stay still so I can see exactly how fine he is.

Jax's healing skills are impressive. What should have taken weeks to heal looks nearly mended, though I can sense through our bond that it's still tender. Wyatt's hiding the pain well, but it's there, a sudden grimace when he moves too quickly or stretches too far.

"See?" He takes my hand and places it over his heart. "Good as new."

That wolfsbane should have killed him. Would have killed anyone else.

His heartbeat thumps beneath my palm, and mine races to match it.

"There's something I need to tell you." I insist, even as his fingers slide beneath the hem of my shirt, leaving trails of fire on my skin. My stomach tightens, and I whimper as a rush of arousal makes me lightheaded. "Something important. Before it all comes out when we meet Blake tomorrow."

Wyatt pauses, taking a slight inhale, his expression softening when he detects the scent of my lust. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

I wish it could. More than anything.

"It can't." I swallow hard. "It's about... it's about why I came here. Why I was trying to keep Brad happy."

With his hands still on my waist, his fingers press lightly into my flesh. "I'm listening."

But the words stick in my throat. How do I tell him I helped cover up a murder? That I lied to everyone, including him?

Wyatt's eyes never leave mine, patient, steady, giving me the space I need to find my voice.

Instead of speaking, I step back and pull my shirt over my head. If I'm going to confess, I want to feel his skin against mine. Just once. I want him to feel my heart beating.

In case it's the last time.

Wyatt's eyes darken as they roam over me, but he doesn't move. He's giving me space, letting me lead.

I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it slide off my shoulders and fall to the floor. My nipples are hard, and my breasts are full and aching.

"Naomi." He breathes, reverence in his voice. His restraint is visible in the tension of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw.

My hands shake as I undo my jeans, sliding them down my legs, along with my underwear, until I’m standing naked before him.

Exposed. Vulnerable. Terrified.

The cool air raises goosebumps across my skin, but it's his gaze that makes me tremble. There's hunger in his eyes, yes, but something deeper too, a tenderness that makes my chest ache. He looks at me like I'm precious, like I'm worth waiting for, worth protecting, worth everything.

Not immediately rushing to him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When Wyatt reaches out a hand, and I ignore it, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his embrace, pressing a reverent kiss to the top of my head.

“You’re beautiful, my mate.”

His devotion fills me up and gives me the bravery I need to push through.

"My sister killed her mate," I say, the words rushing out before I can lose my nerve. “And I helped her.”

Wyatt goes completely still.

"Rowan was... not a good man." I’m suddenly cold despite the heat between us. Keeping my face pressed to his chest, I blurt it all out, unable to look up at him. "He hurt Maddie. For years. And no one stopped him."

Tears burn behind my eyes as memories flood back. Maddie's bruises that she’d tried to hide, her flinch whenever someone raised their voice, the hollow look in her eyes that grew worse with each passing month.

Taking a deep breath, I continue on, praying I’m not ruining everything.

"The night we left," I continue, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "…he went too far. She fought back, and… she won."

Wyatt's fists clench, but he remains silent, letting me speak.

"When I got there, she was badly injured. Maybe he could have been saved at that point, but I was more worried about her. By the time I’d helped her, he was gone. I didn’t call for the alpha to come and assist with his injuries.”

I pause, but Wyatt remains steady, arms holding me close to him.

“I helped her hide what happened. Disposed of the body. We told everyone he'd gone on a run and never came back." The words taste like ash on my tongue. "We ran because we knew no one would believe us. That they'd blame her."

I stare at my hands, unable to meet his eyes. "I lied to the council. And I lied to you."

"Look at me," he says quietly.

I force myself to raise my head.

His eyes are calm now, human once more. "Was he a good guy, Naomi? Or did he deserve what happened to him?"

My heartbeat picks up just recalling all the times I’d seen him publicly disrespect my sister, or when I’d call around, and she’d be limping, or covering up a new bruise. I think of all the pain Maddie endured, the way she would shake when she heard his car in the driveway, how she stopped laughing, stopped living.

"He was the worst," I whisper, voice catching. "He deserved an even more terrible fate than what he got."

Something shifts in Wyatt's expression.

"Good," he says simply. “Goddess, you’re something else.”

And then his mouth is on mine again, hands tangling in my hair, as he lowers me to the bed.

"You're not upset?" I gasp between kisses. "That I helped cover up something so horrible? Maybe I could have saved him."

Wyatt’s hands find my breasts, and he massages them gently, thumbs teasing my nipples as he toys with my body.

"You protected your sister.” He growls against my throat. "You did what you had to do."

Relief floods through me, so intense that it burns behind my eyes. He believes me.

His hands travel down my sides, gentle despite the fury in his eyes. "No one will ever hurt either of you again. Not while I'm breathing."

The fierce protectiveness in his voice makes my heart twist.

"Now," he says, voice dropping to a rumble as he settles between my thighs. "No more talking about other men. Dead or alive."

His fingers trace patterns on my inner thighs, edging closer to where I'm already embarrassingly wet. I need him. Fuck, I need him to touch me there so badly.

"But your back… we should wait. You need to rest." I try again, concern flickering through the haze of need. I’m supposed to be taking care of him, not the other way around.

Wyatt's laugh is dark chocolate and sin. "Sweetheart, I'm not the one who's going to be exhausted when this is over."

The promise in his words sends heat pooling in my belly. His gaze rakes over me, possessive and hungry, as he positions himself between my legs. The weight of him pressing me into the mattress feels right.

"I've been holding back," he murmurs, lips skimming down my stomach. "Being careful. Being gentle. But that’s not really my nature. Not my wolf’s either."

His tongue darts out to taste the skin just below my navel.

"Not anymore."

I shudder beneath him, my wolf rising to meet his challenge. She doesn’t want him to be gentle or careful.

"You've seen the controlled version," he continues, settling his broad shoulders between my legs, his breath hot against my core. "But that's not who I am. Not really. My wolf is too dominant. He’ll demand your submission. He’ll enjoy a good tussle, but he needs to be the boss."

His eyes lock with mine as he hooks my legs over his shoulders. His lip curls in a smile when he sees I’m nodding eagerly. We’re a perfect match.

"This is who I am." He growls. "And I'm done pretending."

Then his mouth is on me, and coherent thought scatters like leaves in a storm. His tongue is relentless, finding every sensitive spot, discovering what makes me gasp and what makes me moan. The stubble on his jaw creates a delicious friction against my inner thighs. I tangle my fingers in his hair, urging him closer, silently begging for more.

I arch off the bed, a cry tearing from my throat as his tongue slides through my folds. He holds my hips down with one massive hand splayed across my stomach, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

This isn't the tentative exploration of a new lover. This is possession. Claiming.

And I surrender to it completely.

As pleasure builds within me, the room seems to fade away until there's nothing but Wyatt and me connected in the most intimate way. The bond between us strengthens with each passing moment, a golden thread weaving our souls together.

When release finally crashes over me, it's not just my body that finds ecstasy, but something deeper, more profound. And as Wyatt kisses his way back up my body, his eyes glowing with satisfaction and love, I know without a doubt that I was made for him, and he for me.