Page 44

“No matter how dark it gets, no matter how far we’re scattered, I’ll always find my way back to you. You’re my home, Fane. You and Slate—always.” ~Jacque

T he room was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped itself around Fane like a balm to his frayed nerves.

The faint glow of moonlight spilled through the window, casting soft, silver light over the simple but elegant furnishings of their room in Peri’s home.

The faint scent of lavender hung in the air and mingled with the earthy undertone of Faerie itself—a scent that always smelled like a mix of rain-soaked moss and wildflowers.

Slate’s soft, even breathing came from the crib near the bed. The sound should have soothed Fane but didn’t quite reach the storm inside him. His son was safe. His mate was safe. And yet the weight of the past weeks still pressed heavily on his chest.

Fane ran a hand through his dark hair, his claws partially extended as his wolf stirred beneath his skin.

The earlier phone call with Dillon echoed in his mind.

The alpha’s voice had been steady, but Fane had felt the cracks beneath the surface.

Dillon had lost not just his beta, but his brother in all but blood.

Jewel, the healer who had been a lifeline to his pack, was gone, too.

And yet Dillon had reassured him: We’re okay. We’ll be okay.

Fane wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he had no choice but to accept it. There was no time to dwell on what they couldn’t change. No time to mourn the way they should have.

He turned his gaze to Jacque, who stood at the foot of the bed, her red hair spilling over her shoulders like fire against the pale fabric of her nightgown. She was folding Slate’s blanket, her green eyes distant, lost in thought.

Fane’s chest tightened. He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop feeling the overwhelming need to touch her, to anchor himself in her presence.

They’d been separated when Celise had scattered them across the realms, and for the first time in a long while, he’d known true terror.

Their bond had been blocked, leaving him blind to her thoughts, her emotions.

He’d believed he might have lost her—and Slate—with no way to save them.

“Jacquelyn,” he said softly.

She turned to him, her green eyes softening as they met his. “Fane,” she replied equally quiet, as though anything louder might break the fragile peace of the moment.

He crossed the room in two strides, his movements fluid and purposeful.

The sound of his bare feet against the wooden floor was faint, but Jacque’s breath caught as he stopped in front of her.

Fane reached out, brushing the back of his fingers along her cheek.

Her skin was warm, soft beneath his touch, and the familiar scent of her—the cold winter snow mixed with cotton candy—wrapped around him like a lifeline.

“I need you,” he murmured. “Not just your presence, not just your words. I need you, Jacquelyn. You and me. Here. Now.”

Her lips parted, but whatever she was about to say was lost as Fane cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant but fierce—filled with all the desperation and longing he’d been holding back.

The taste of her was intoxicating, a mix of sweetness and fire.

He deepened the kiss by pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Jacque’s hands gripped his shirt, twisting the fabric as she leaned into him.

Fane growled low in his throat. The sound vibrated through his chest as his wolf surged forward, demanding more.

He slid his hands down her arms, his claws retracting as his fingers brushed the thin straps of her nightgown.

When he broke the kiss, his lips barely left hers. His breath mingled with hers as he whispered, “You’re mine, Jacquelyn. You’ll always be mine.”

She nodded. “Yours, Fane. Always.”

Her words sent a shiver through him, and he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the mark on her neck.

The small crescent-shaped scar was a symbol of their bond, but it was more than that.

The mark was a reminder of their connection, their unity.

Fane nipped at the mark lightly, and Jacque shivered beneath his touch as her hands slid up to tangle in his hair.

J acque’s heart raced as Fane’s lips moved over her skin, his touch igniting a fire that chased away the lingering fear and grief she’d been carrying. His hands were firm but gentle, his touch reverent as though she were something precious, something he couldn’t bear to lose again.

Fane’s presence was everywhere—his warmth pressing against her, the rough scrape of his stubble against her neck, the faint brush of his claws as they grazed her waist. His scent, woodsy and wild, surrounded her. The smell was a perfect match to the man who had claimed her heart and soul.

Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, responding to the primal energy radiating from Fane. She felt his need, his love, his fierce determination to remind her—and himself—that they were alive, that they were together.

When his teeth brushed over her mark again, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her, and she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

The bond between them flared to life, stronger than it had been since being separated, and she felt the depth of his emotions pouring into her.

His love was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to drown her, but she welcomed it and let it fill the broken spaces inside her.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his blue eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice raw. “You and Slate. I couldn’t feel you, Jacquelyn. I couldn’t reach you. It was like losing a part of myself.”

She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I’m here,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. “I’m here, Fane. We both are.”

He kissed her again, slower this time, but no less intense. She melted into him, feeling the strength of his arms around her, the steady beat of his heart against hers. Every touch, every kiss was a reminder of who they were together—a unit, unbreakable even by the chaos of the world around them.

When Fane’s teeth sank gently into her mark, she cried out softly, her body arching into his.

The bond between them roared to life, solidifying in a way that left her breathless.

She felt his wolf through the connection, wild and possessive, but also deeply loving.

He didn’t linger there long, taking in her blood and then licking the wound, then returning to her mouth.

Fane’s lips moved with deliberate slowness against Jacque’s, his touch reverent as though he was memorizing every inch of her.

His hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, before settling at her waist. He pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers.

Jacque’s hands gripped his shoulders as if to anchor herself in the moment.

Her breath hitched as his lips left hers and began a slow, purposeful path down her neck.

His stubble scraped lightly over her skin, sending a shiver through her.

Every touch, every kiss, felt weighted with meaning—an unspoken promise that no force in the world would ever separate them again.

Fane’s hands spanned her waist, his fingers spreading wide as though he was trying to cover as much of her as possible, to ground himself in the reality of her presence.

“So beautiful, so strong, and so mine,” he murmured against her skin, his deep voice rough and unsteady.

“And you, my wolf man, are mine,” she whispered.

He growled softly, the sound vibrating against her collarbone as his arms wrapped fully around her, pulling her flush against him.

The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her nightgown, and Jacque relaxed into his strength.

His hands slid up her back, his touch firm but gentle, as if he was both claiming her and reminding himself that she was real.

The world outside their room faded further and further into the background.

The tension in Fane’s body began to ease as he focused entirely on Jacque, on the way her hands roamed over his shoulders, her nails grazing lightly over his skin, sending sparks racing through him.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath.

“I don’t want to think about anything else,” he murmured. “Just you. Just us.”

Jacque nodded and slid her hands down to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her palms, strong and steady, and it mirrored the rhythm of her own. “Then don’t. Just be here with me.”

Fane growled softly, the sound both possessive and tender, and he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. Jacque let out a soft laugh, and her hands gripped his shoulders as he carried her to the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly under their weight when he laid her down, his body covering hers as he braced himself on his forearms, keeping just enough distance between them to look into her eyes.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of everything they’d been through flickered across his face. “I love you,” he whispered.

Tears pricked at Jacque’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She smiled. “I know. Knowing that is what kept me going when I didn’t know if I’d see Slate or you again.”

He kissed her again, slower this time. His hands tangled in her hair as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the moment.

Jacque responded in kind, matching his intensity as she let herself be fully present, fully his.

The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, the way he whispered her name like a prayer—it all reminded her of what they’d fought so hard to protect.