Page 19 of His Possession

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “Nothing and no one will get to you while you’re under my roof.”

Maeve crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the back of the couch as she watched him. “Do you really think this is necessary?”

“Yes,” Rory said without hesitation. He turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “The Kellehers sent a message, Maeve. I don’t take that lightly.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. The image of her destroyed sculpture flashed in her mind, the memory of it still fresh and raw. She hated the vulnerability it stirred in her, the feeling of being targeted and powerless. It wasn’t a sensation she was used to, and she despised every second.

“You could have just had someone guard my place,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Rory stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t trust anyone else with your safety. Not now.”

His words carried an unspoken intensity, one that made her chest tighten. The way he looked at her—like she was more than just another responsibility, more than a problem to be solved—it unnerved her. It also made her want to lean into him, to let herself believe he could protect her from the anarchy that seemed to swirl all around her.

Maeve exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing the cool fabric of the couch. “This is temporary.”

“Of course,” Rory said, though the hint of a challenge in his tone suggested he thought otherwise.

He moved past her, pouring two glasses of whiskey from a decanter on the bar. When he handed her one, their fingers brushed briefly, the contact sending a spark up her arm. She tried to ignore it, but her cougar stirred, its instincts a chaotic tangle of desire and unease.

Rory sat on the edge of the couch, his posture relaxed, but his gaze still sharp. “You don’t have to trust me completely,” he said, his voice calm. “But trust me enough to keep you safe.”

Maeve took a sip of the whiskey, the burn in her throat grounding her as she met his gaze. “I don’t know if I want to live in your world or if I can even survive it.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said. “And you’re not in this alone.”

The words hung between them, laced with all things he hadn’t said. Maeve’s fingers tightened around the glass as she fought the urge to close the distance between them. Her cougar instincts clawed at her, torn between the urge to fight and the desire to surrender.

Before she could stop herself, she took a step closer. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

Rory stood, his presence commanding, as he set his glass down and turned to face her fully. “Because you’re my mate, Maeve…”

“Don’t say that…”

“It’s true and you know it. I let nothing or anyone I care about get destroyed.”

Her breath caught at the raw intensity in his voice, the conviction that burned in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying the words to reassure her—he meant them. Every single one.

Rory reached out, his hand brushing her cheek as his fingers slid into her hair. The tenderness in the gesture was at odds with the power he radiated, and it made her pulse race. “You’re not just some part of this world,” he murmured. “You’re mine.”

The declaration sent a shiver through her, and before she could respond, he kissed her. His lips were firm and insistent, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her like wildfire. Maeve’s body responded instinctively, her hands gripping his shirt as she pulled him closer.

Rory’s arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him as the kiss deepened, their breath mingling as the world outside faded into nothingness. His control, so precise and deliberate, melted away, replaced by something raw and unrestrained. Maeve felt it in the way his hands explored her body, in the wayhis lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Her cougar roared to life, its instincts aligning with hers as she leaned into him, matching his passion with her own. Rory lifted her effortlessly, his strength a reminder of the strength and power that simmered beneath his surface. He carried her to the bedroom, their movements a blur of urgency and need.

When he laid her down on the bed, his eyes burned with a primal intensity that made her heart race. His touch was both reverent and demanding, his lips and hands exploring her with a hunger that left her breathless. Maeve’s own desire surged, her body arching into his as she let herself drown in the heat of the moment.

Their passion was raw, untamed—a collision of instincts and emotions that neither of them could hold back. Rory’s dominance was palpable, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was protective, possessive in a way that made Maeve feel claimed but not caged. She met his intensity with her own, their connection deepening with every touch, every whispered name.

As Rory’s hands and lips explored her, devotion and desire merging in each caress, Maeve realized this was more than a physical union. It was Rory, baring his soul to her in the only way he knew how.

Rory’s hands were a soft whisper against her heated skin, grazing her nipples and sending waves of pleasure surging through her body. It was uncharted territory, his mouth working magic where no one had dared before—his actions spoke of worship and adoration.

Maeve let out a quiet moan as he silenced her doubts, her hands fisting in the sheets. The tension within her coiled tighter, each pull of his lips drawing her closer to a precipice she hadn’t even known existed until earlier in the day. Instead of the frenzied fucking in his office, Rory now patientlyand methodically pursued her pleasure, a pleasure she hadn’t realized she deserved.

“Rory,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name.

The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth, the mastery of his touch, and the overwhelming certainty that she was about to shatter into a million pieces. And when the climax hit, it was like a supernova inside her, dazzling and all-consuming. Her back arched off the bed, every muscle tensed as wave after wave of ecstasy ripped through her.

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