Page 38 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

JAVI

G oing to sleep on the Rig and waking up in the Austin den gives me more than a little culture shock.

For one thing, there are no rules—except about intruding on the females-only hot springs, which I’ve already broken.

We can go where we please, talk about what we want when we want, and we could leave and never come back if we wanted to.

Not that Peaches wants to go anywhere; she’s satisfied now that she’s back home, and I have to admit it’s nice here.

The second thing that’s changed—and something I’m very happy about—is that I can show the world how much I love this woman.

I keep my arm around her shoulder as we walk through the halls of the den, Peaches regaling me with the story of how we all escaped from the Rig and arrived here.

Whereas she was forced into silence on the Rig, I see now that it’s her nature to talk and make friends…

and she has a lot of friends here. Every other turn we make, she’s waving at someone, laughing with someone else, the joy inside her seeping into everyone we pass.

It’s strange to hear her talk like this out in the open—loud and unafraid, her eyes bright as she describes her friends’ arrival, my fight with Gideon, our journey across the Gulf. I don’t remember a second of it; everything after Gideon dosed me with kraken is a blur.

At least I took the bastard out before we left.

Even though Peaches is happy now, I can tell she went through a lot to get here.

The minute the bond snapped back into place, I felt her pain and fear, a stream of unpleasant sensations that made it hard to break away from her.

It’s why I haven’t taken my hands off her since I woke up, and why I never plan on leaving her alone again.

She leads me back to her room after we’re done in the baths, a little nook in the maze of tunnels.

The light from the hall spills across a small bed in the corner, a battered old sofa on the opposite wall covered with a handmade, brightly colored blanket.

Peaches herself is dressed in something I haven’t seen her in since we initially took her—a fuzzy purple sweater that drapes down to her knees.

I fixate on the dimples in the backs of her thighs, my eyes trailing up over her ass, the small of her back, draped in comfort.

“Well, this is it,” she says, her back to me. “Home.”

I follow her inside and slide my hands around her waist, pulling her into my chest. I splay my fingers to hold her closer, tighter, to convince her that I’m back.

She’s so bright and bubbly, but the bond doesn’t lie—she’s still scared.

“Home,” I rumble, then press a kiss to her temple.

She turns in my arms and runs her hands over my chest and shoulders. Her brown eyes are red and puffy, her brow furrowed. She’s been crying…and I hate that I’m the one who made her cry.

“I thought you were a goner for a bit there,” she says quietly. “I’m so glad…”

Her voice breaks and she buries her face in my chest.

I sigh into her wild curls. “I’m so sorry, Peach.”

“For what?” her muffled voice says.

She’s always forgiving me when I don’t deserve forgiveness. I take her gently by the shoulders and meet her teary eyes, gazing down at her.

I love her so fucking much. I know I don’t deserve this sweetness, that I did nothing to earn her love, but I can’t ever let her go.

Maybe that makes me selfish.

Maybe that’s how all men feel when they have something as good as this.

“For taking you in the first place,” I say. “Not trying harder to get you out of there, losing my mind when you needed me most of all.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and huff out a breath, but her hand comes to rest on the center of my chest, over my heart.

“Javi,” she says softly. “It’s okay for you to need me too.”

I open my eyes again and lift her chin. “I think I’ve always needed you, Peach.”

I bend to kiss her, Peaches standing on tip-toe to reach me. She melts into my chest as our lips meet, her hair brushing over my knuckles when I place my hands on the small of her back. She’s so tentative, soft, gentle.

It could be because she thinks either one of us might break after what we’ve been through, now that we’re in this safe place.

She clings to me with her arms around my neck, snatching little kisses from my lips, across my jaw, on all the scratches and bruises that haven’t healed.

“You can’t ever do that again,” she whispers, nose to nose. “Promise me.”

“I swear, Peach.” My voice cracks. “I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

I wrap my arms around her like I’m afraid the world might take her from me if I don’t hold tight enough.

She melts against me and I lift her off the ground, carrying her toward the bed.

My legs are shaky, not from weakness anymore but from something heavier—love, relief, the unbearable tension finally breaking apart.

She keeps her hands on my face the whole way, her thumbs sweeping beneath my eyes. And when I lower her gently to the mattress, she doesn’t let go.

“I missed you so much,” she says, and her lips follow the words—soft, wet kisses over my jaw, the bridge of my nose, the corners of my mouth. Her mouth finds the bite she left on my shoulder and she kisses it open, slow and reverent, her tongue a silky heat that makes me shudder.

This is the mark that made me hers. The one that changed everything.

She’s still wearing one of those thin little sweaters, and nothing else but pale pink underwear. And she’s wet already—I can smell her, sweet and aching for me. The sight of that darkened spot between her thighs nearly undoes me.

I settle between her legs and slide my palms over her hips, slow and wide, like I’m rediscovering her from the outside in. Her legs fall open for me without hesitation. No fear. Just trust.

I lean in and press my lips to the inside of her thigh—right over the bond mark. She gasps, her whole body tightening at the contact.

“Right here,” I murmur, kissing the same spot again. “This is where I lost myself the first time.”

“Do it again,” she whispers.

I drag my tongue over the mark once more, then hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and start to ease them down. Inch by inch. Reverent. I kiss her bare skin as I go, and the bond pulls taut at every shift, tugging me closer even when I’m already kneeling between her legs.

Her scent is dizzying. Her body glistens in the low light, and I’m so overwhelmed by her beauty that I have to shut my eyes just to breathe.

When I look again, she’s watching me—cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy with emotion.

Her fingers slide into my hair, trembling slightly. “Javi…”

We’ve been quiet for so long—on the Rig, in that awful cell, in all the stolen moments when fear was louder than desire—but I won’t shush her now.

We’re safe.

We’re home.

I lean in, kiss over the soft curls between her legs, and flick my tongue up her seam in a slow, claiming stroke.

“I’m gonna lick you until you scream, Peach,” I say, voice low and rough. “Don’t hold back.”

I throw her legs over my shoulders and bury my face between her thighs like I’ve been starving.

I lap at her slowly at first, tongue tracing every inch of her, memorizing how she tastes again.

She rocks against me, her hips rising, and I slide one hand up to cup her breast under the sweater.

Her nipple is already hard, and when I roll it between my fingers, she moans.

The sound goes straight to my cock.

I groan into her, and that makes her twitch, her thighs clamping tighter around my head.

“Javi—” she gasps, her voice raw and high and breaking.

I flick my tongue over her clit in the same rhythm, again and again, until she’s crying out, her hips stuttering. Her hands fist in my hair, but I don’t stop. I want to feel her break apart.

“Come for your mate, Peach,” I growl.

And she does—beautiful and unrestrained, her whole body trembling against my mouth. Her cry is wild, desperate, so full of feeling that it shakes me to my core.

But I’m not done with her yet.

Not even close.

I pull away and drag the back of my hand over my mouth before following her up, yanking my shirt off over my head and tossing it to the floor. Peaches scrambles to get undressed, plucking at the sweater and losing herself in it for a moment.

Her laughter is like music when she gets stuck, her arms tangled in the excess purple fabric, her hair a bouquet in the neckline.

I get on my knees to help her, a smile coming to my lips as inevitably as spring lighting up the world again.

It’s awkward and fun and new…and she’s the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.

We’re in each other’s arms again, coming together naturally. I can’t stop kissing her—finding the secret place where she’s ticklish beneath her ear, returning to my bite marks, brushing my lips over every freckle as I move from her cheeks to her shoulders and breasts.

I could go back to licking her—and I almost do—but she catches me by the shoulders and gazes into my eyes.

“Knot me, Javi,” she whispers. “Please.”

And who am I to deny her?

I take off my jeans in a rush and they join the pile of our clothes on the floor, leaving me skin to skin with my mate. My cock nestles between her thighs and I find her wet with slick, ready to be bred and claimed.

Of course, that’s just my wolf talking.

Because she might be mine; she might be close to her heat, desperate and needy…

But I love this woman.

I love her with every broken piece of myself.

I push inside her slowly, taking my time, eager to experience what sex with her will feel like when we’re not desperate and scared.

And it’s good—it’s so much better than I could have ever dreamed, the friction of her tight cunt around my cock warm and inviting.

I keep playing with her as I fuck her, covering her breast with my hand, lowering my lips to the other and sucking her nipple into my mouth.

She finally screams as an orgasm rolls through her.

Satisfaction glows in my chest, my ego sated.

And as a reward, I slide home, pressing my knot into her tight, wet heat.

She squeezes around me as I swivel my hips, feeling something new and strange between us. This is by choice—no more captivity or games. This is who we are when we choose each other, and this is where I’ll always choose to be.

With her. Pleasuring her. Making her happy.

“Love you…” she mumbles, her words garbled. “Love you, love you…”

That confirmation alone is enough to send me hurtling over the edge, groaning as I come inside my mate. Her pussy clenches around me as she joins me, and I ride out the bliss of this moment alone in her room.

Alone by choice.

Together by choice.

My knot, as always, stays stubbornly locked inside her.

I fall to the side in her tiny little bed, finding her purple sweater under my head.

It’s incredibly soft, and I nestle into it, inhaling her scent.

Her eyes shine in the lamplight from her side table, illuminating a room impossibly different from the one we’ve lived in until now.

“I love you,” I murmur. “I love you so fucking much, Peach.”

“I love you, too,” she says. “Forever, Javi.”

I smile. “Forever.”