Page 25

Her hands moved, not to push me away this time, but to grip my tunic, weakly, like she hated herself for it.

“I can’t,” she breathed, eyes fluttering open, glossy with pain and something deeper. “I can’t stop it.”

I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes locked on hers, voice low and final.

“Then let go.”

“No, I hate you.”

Her words burned, but not in the way she wanted them to. Not with the bite they used to carry. They were empty now. Hollow armor.

She was trembling beneath me, not just from the cold—gods, it wasn’t the cold anymore. Her skin was fevered, damp with sweat. Her scent was thick in my throat, coating my tongue, fogging the edges of reason. Sweet. Wild. Ready.

She still held onto that last word like it was a weapon—hate—but it shook in her mouth now, no longer sharpened steel, just a whisper of the fight she was losing. The fight she’d already lost.

I leaned closer, lips grazing hers, not kissing—hovering—until I felt the way her breath hitched when I didn’t touch her.

“You can hate me,” I whispered, “while I fuck the fight out of you.”

She gasped, sharp, as my hand slid beneath the last barrier of fabric between us. Her body jolted when my fingers found just how wet she was. But her thighs parted just a little more.

“Say it again,” I murmured, dragging my fingers slowly through the slick heat of her. “Say you hate me while you grind against my hand.”

She shook her head, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes—not from pain. Not from fear. From the collapse of something she’d fought too long to keep standing.

Her hands clutched my tunic like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

I slipped one finger inside her.

She moaned—and this time, she bit it back, biting her own lip until blood welled.

My name hovered on her tongue. I could feel it. She was close. Closer than she wanted to be. Every part of her was betraying her—her body, her wolf, the way she lifted her hips for more even as she shook her head.

“You want me to stop?” I asked, voice rough now, thick with need, curling my fingers inside her slowly. “Tell me. Just tell me to stop.”

She said nothing. Her breath was ragged. Her whole body trembled. I moved again. Deeper. Curling. Claiming. She broke.

Her back arched, mouth falling open around a silent cry as her heat surged and her body clenched around my fingers.

And still—still—she tried to speak through it.

“I—” she gasped. “I can’t—”

“You don’t have to anymore,” I growled, lowering my mouth to her throat, letting her feel the scrape of my teeth. “I’ve got you now.”

And I did.

Because when I pulled my fingers free and she whimpered at the loss, when she didn’t push me away but gripped my arms instead, dragging me closer, her eyes glassy and wide. That was when I knew. She wasn’t running anymore.

She wasn’t running.

Not with her legs wrapped weakly around my waist, not with her nails digging into my arms like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Not when her wolf was purring beneath her skin, pressing forward, aching for mine.

She was done.

And I wasn’t gentle.

I kissed her like I wanted to break her open—biting, breathless, deep. Her lips parted with a choked sound, soft and torn between defiance and surrender. I swallowed it. Swallowed all of it.

I pressed her down into the furs, the heat of her skin almost unbearable. The layers between us were too much, and I ripped them away, baring her to the cold cave air. She gasped, but not from the cold. No, the fire inside her burned too hot now for that.

Her thighs trembled as I settled between them.

She looked up at me then, with those fucking green eyes that drove me insane, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. There was still resistance in that gaze, flickering, dying. But there was want too. Raw. Terrified. Irrevocable.

“Andros,” she whispered.

I froze for a breath, chest tightening.

Then I lined myself up and pressed forward, slow and steady until I was seated deep inside her. She cried out, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders, body arching off the furs.

Fuck.

She was tight, hot—her body clutching me like it already knew who I was. Who I would always be to her .

I gave her a moment. One heartbeat. Two.

Then I started to move.

Each thrust was measured, hard, dragging her closer to the edge with every stroke. I watched her unravel. Watched her eyes flutter closed, her mouth fall open. Watched the last threads of denial snap like rope soaked in fire.

“I told you,” I growled against her throat. “By the time this night’s over, you’ll be on all fours.”

“No,” she whimpered—but there was no strength behind it now.

I gripped her hips and flipped her, pressed her chest to the furs, pulled her ass back against me. Her legs barely held. She let out a broken sound, but she didn’t stop me. Didn’t fight. She arched.

“Good girl,” I said roughly, voice laced with pride and something darker. “Now beg.”

She shook her head, even as her hips rolled back against mine. I reached down, stroked between her legs, feeling how wet she was, how close.

“I said beg.”

Her voice came out shattered.

“Please.”

“ Please , what?”

“Don’t—” She gasped, back bowing as she pushed against me. “Don’t stop.”

I grinned, savage.

Then I slammed into her, deep and hard, and didn’t stop. Her cries filled the cave, heat pouring from her like wildfire. The bond snapped taut, alive, burning.

Her cry tore from her throat, raw and unguarded, nothing held back. No hatred. No venom. Just the sound of a woman breaking open, giving in to the very thing she’d spent years trying to kill. Her body clenched around me, spasming, trembling so violently I had to grip her hips to keep her grounded.

She was pulsing around me, drowning in it, and I could feel every twitch, every desperate, helpless wave crashing through her.

Lexa’s fingers clawed at the furs beneath her, grasping for something solid as her spine bowed, her cheek pressed to the ground. Her breath came in shattered bursts, gasps that barely found their way past her parted lips.

And then I followed.

The pressure coiled low in my gut snapped, dragging me under with her.

I groaned her name against her skin, sinking into that heat, that bond, burying myself so deep I forgot where she ended and I began.

My knot swelled, locking us together, and she cried out again—softer this time, as if she felt it too, that final claim sinking into her bones.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. The knot held me inside her, tight and claiming.

I stayed like that, over her, breath heavy against her back, hands resting on her hips as I tried to force my wolf back under control.

He was pacing, howling with satisfaction.

Her scent was everywhere now, slick with heat and surrender, with mine and it made every instinct I had want to do it again. Mark her again. Make her beg louder.

The fire crackled beside us, casting soft amber light over her bare back, her torn clothes, the bruise-dark bite mark blooming on her neck. Blood welled there in a slow, steady line.

She was silent. But not distant.

I felt her. Through the bond.

Exhausted. Spent. Still angry. Still afraid. But something in her had quieted. The wolf inside her was no longer growling. No longer fighting. She was stretched out, curled up in the dark of her mind, purring in time with mine.

“I told you,” I said, voice rough in the stillness, low against her ear. “You can’t outrun this.”

She didn’t answer.

But her body relaxed by inches, little by little, until she was no longer trembling. Until she was breathing. Until she was simply… still.

I eased down beside her, pulling the cloak back over her bare skin, one hand sliding under her to rest against her stomach.

“Sleep,” I murmured, not asking. “You’re going to need it.”

And this time, she didn’t fight me.