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My Beholden is alone. I sense it the way a predator senses the stillness of the forest before a kill—sharp, instinctual, immediate.

The human boy toy is gone. Called away by duty or convenience. It doesn’t matter. His warmth fades from her space like heat from a corpse.

And in his absence, the bond stirs.

It curls through her like smoke in the lungs—slow, sacred, mine .

She doesn’t say my name. She doesn’t have to. She thinks of me. And that’s enough.

The veil parts without resistance, as if even the air in her world has learned to make room for me. Her home is soaked in light, yet the bond pulses stronger here—rooted in the scent of her.

Orange blossoms. Sex. Sweat. It clings to every surface. I inhale deeply. Drinking her in.

She’s perched on the bed, back to the wall, legs bare and folded beneath her. What mortals call a tank top covers her chest, thin cotton stretched tight across her breasts. A pair of soft, pale panties is the only other barrier between me and her skin.

Her thoughts are loud.

Unfiltered.

Open.

I watch her chest rise—one shallow breath, then another. Faster now. Her pulse begins to race. She senses me.

“I didn’t call for you.”

“You didn’t have to, Beholden.” I let my voice crawl low through the space between us. Her skin prickles, heat blooming to the surface. “Your body did.”

She looks up—finally.

Our eyes lock.

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. The bond hums between us like a second heartbeat.

I step forward, the floor creaking beneath my weight as my claws scrape against polished wood. My body casts long shadows across her walls—horns nearly grazing the ceiling, my frame taking up too much space for this small, fragile room.

She doesn’t move away.

I lower myself onto the edge of the bed. The frame groans in protest beneath my weight.

She stays still. Watching. Wide-eyed. Tense.

Like a flame trying to decide whether to flicker... or burn .

“You’re flushed,” I murmur. My voice softens—not because I lack hunger, but because I want her to listen .

“You’re still glowing from him. But right now... you’re thinking of me .”

Her pulse stutters.

Good.

She swallows hard, eyes locked to mine, chest rising with every breath.

“I’m not just here to make you come.” I pause. I want to watch the words settle. “I’m here to make you remember who you belong to.”

Parker’s breath catches, a soft gasp slipping past her parted lips. Her eyes widen, pupils blown as desire and fear tangle like vines around her heart. Her thoughts are sifting through memories of me chasing her, catching her, claiming her, lust finally winning over the fear.

I lean closer, casting her in my shadow, her scent thick with arousal, laced with the aftermath of her earlier cravings. My claws sink into the mattress, tearing through the fabric like wet paper.

Her pulse flutters beneath her skin—wild, erratic. Goosebumps rise across her arms, her nipples peeking through the thin fabric of her top. She shivers, but not from cold. I cup her thigh, my hand massive, claws dragging delicate patterns across her creamy skin. She gasps but doesn’t pull away.

“Do you remember the first time I claimed you?” I growl, my voice low and rumbling, knowing full well that those memories are currently playing on a loop inside her mind. “How you trembled beneath me—caught between ecstasy and terror?”

Her breath hitches. I feel the echo of that night humming through our bond, sharp and sweet.

“You were so small. So fragile,” I continue, claws tracing higher. “And still, you took all of me. Every. Last. Inch.”

She whimpers—barely audible, but to me, it’s a melody. My hand slides higher, fingertips brushing the edge of her panties. Parker’s hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more contact. I growl low in my throat, pleased by her responsiveness.

Her eyes flutter closed, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks. I lean in, my muzzle brushing against her ear as I inhale deeply, savoring the intoxicating blend of fear and arousal that radiates from her skin.

“Open your eyes, Beholden,” I command, my voice vibrating through her. “I want you to see who’s making you feel this.”

Her eyes snap open, filled with hunger, defiance, and need. Her fingers curl into the sheets, white-knuckled. I lean in again, inhaling her scent like a man starved.

“You’ve been playing with fire,” I murmur. “Let me show you what it means to burn.”

I shred her tank top in a single motion. Her gasp is sharp, spine arching as the cool air kisses her skin. My claws trail down her sternum, leaving faint lines behind. She shivers under my touch.

“Such a delicate thing,” I murmur. “So easily marked.”

I palm her breast, rough and possessive, her thighs clenching as my claw grazes her nipple. Her strangled moan goes straight to my cock.

Her thoughts are begging for more.

“That’s it. Let me hear you.”

My tongue—long, rough—laps across her other breast. Her cry is broken, her hands flying to my horns. She grips tightly, grounding herself. The jolt that sends through me is maddening.

“You taste of sin and sweetness,” I breathe against her skin. “A delicacy I’ve been denied too long.”

My other hand slides under her, pulling her into my lap. She straddles my thighs perfectly, like she’s meant for this. Meant for me.

“Do you feel that?” I murmur, breath hot against her neck. “The way your body fits mine. You were made for this.”

My tongue flicks her skin, tasting salt and rapid pulse. She tilts her head, offering herself. Instinct. Need. It makes my blood roar.

Her hips grind against me, searching. Her panties soaked. My cock aches to be buried inside her.

“Such a needy little thing,” I growl, claws digging into the soft flesh of her ass. “Tell me what you want.”

She buries her face in my chest, fingers tangled in my fur. Shame. Desire. Fear. All of it pulses through her.

“I… I shouldn’t…”

I grip her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. Her eyes—glazed, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

“You shouldn’t what?” I taunt. “Crave a monster? Ache for my touch?”

My claws trail down her spine. She shudders.

“Tell me,” I rasp. “Tell me what you need.”

“I… I need…” she whispers.

“Yes?” I coax, claws pressing into her hips. “Say it.”

“You,” she gasps. “I need you, Rad. Please…”

A thrill shoots through me, the excitement of making her admit outloud what she has denied in her internal musings as potent as the lust scenting the air.

“Tell me what you need from me, my little snow fox. In detail.”

And that’s all it takes.

Her hands are everywhere—gripping my fur, tracing my horns, greedy and frantic. Her mouth finds mine, desperate and demanding. I let her take, just for a moment.

Then I flip her onto her back.

Her silver hair fans across the pillow, skin flushed and glowing. I hover over her, drinking her in.

“Is this what you want?” I growl. “To be pinned beneath your monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” she breathes. “You’re mine.”

The words break something loose inside me.

I tear her panties away, baring her. My claws trace down her hip, across her thigh, and back up to where she’s wet and aching. I retract my claws and slide two fingers through her folds—soaked.

“So eager. So perfect.”

I lean down, tongue flicking out to taste her. She cries out, hands flying to my horns again. Her taste—fuck—it’s addictive. I devour her, holding her hips steady as she writhes, begging without words.

Just as she’s about to fall apart, I pull back. Her moan is frustration incarnate.

“Please,” she pants. “Please, Rad.”

“Please what?” I murmur.

“Fuck me,” she breathes. “I want you inside me. Now.”

Wicked delight shoots through me at her admission. That’s all I need.

I position myself between her thighs, dragging my cock through her slick heat.

“Look at me,” I growl. “I want to see your face when I claim you.”

Her eyes lock on mine—and I thrust in, hard and deep. She cries out, back arching as I fill her completely. Her walls clench, tight and hot around me.

“Fuck,” I snarl. “You feel like heaven wrapped in hell.”

I move. Hard. Deep. Unrelenting. Her cries grow louder, her body lifting to meet each thrust, desperate for more. Her legs wrap around me, keeping me there, her thoughts slamming into mine like a tide. So damned perfect. With the looks of an angel, made to claim a demon.

My claws grip her hips, leaving marks she’ll feel for days. Right on top of the already fading ones I had left before. Good. I want her to remember.

“Who do you belong to?” I demand.

“You,” she gasps. “I belong to you, Rad.”

A growl low and deep escapes me, my beast side going feral at the words. I lose it.

I drive into her with wild abandon, her moans mixing with the crash of the headboard and the ripping of sheets. Feathers from her duvet fly around us in a strange snowy storm.

“Come for me, Beholden,” I growl. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

And she does.

Her orgasm slams into her—violent, raw, perfect.

I follow her over the edge, roaring as I spill inside her, claiming her in the oldest, most sacred way.

For a moment, we’re still—locked together, in a pile of feathers, adding emphasis that she is not at all angelic, but rather a creature born to claim monsters.

And she’s now wrecked, trembling, and mine.

I lower my head to her throat, inhaling her. Slowly, I ease out of her. She whimpers.

I gather her into my arms, tucking her against my chest.

“You did so well,” I whisper against her temple. “So perfect for me.”

Her fingers trail mindless patterns in my fur. She’s dazed, quiet.

“Was this… real?” she murmurs.

A low chuckle rumbles through me. “As real as the marks on your skin, Beholden. As real as the ache you’ll feel tomorrow.”

She shivers.

“Sleep now,” I command softly, stroking her hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

But I don’t say the rest.

I’ve got you now, little one. And I’m never letting go.