Page 18 of Wolf at the Door

Pain and pleasure mingled as my body began to change. My muscles stretched, bones twisting and reshaping. Fur erupted along my skin, claws replacing fingers. The transformation was raw, primal, and utterly freeing. When it was done, I stood on all fours, the forest sharper and more vivid through the eyes of the wolf.

I threw back my head and let out a howl, the sound echoing through the trees. It wasn’t just a call—it was a declaration. The fight was over, the pack was safe, and the wolf…the wolf was free.

I ran, the earth flying beneath my paws. Each stride carried me further from the fire and blood of the warehouse, the tension in my body easing with every step. The forest welcomed me, its ancient rhythms soothing the parts of me that still burned with anger.

When I finally stopped, the moon was high, its light bathing the clearing in silver. My mind was clearer now, my fury tempered but not forgotten. Dylan was gone, and Bella…Bella was waiting.

When I finally returned to my human form, the moon was high, its light bathing the forest in silver. My mind was clearer now, my rage tempered but not forgotten. Dylan was gone. Bella was safe. And that was all that mattered.

It was time to go home.

The ride back to the clubhouse was silent but heavy with meaning. The low hum of the engines vibrated through me, a steady rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of the pack. Cutter rode at my left, Ironhead on my right, and the others fell into formation behind us, their presence a wall of solidarity. The night air was cool against my skin, the scent of pine and earth mingling with the lingering traces of blood and smoke.

As the miles passed, my thoughts turned to Bella. She’d been on my mind the entire night, her face flashing behind my eyes with every move I made. Everything I’d done tonight—every shot, every blow—had been for her. To keep her safe. To show her that she wasn’t alone anymore.

Bella was different. She wasn’t just another woman passing through, someone to fill the emptiness for a night or two. She was the only one who’d ever made me think about a future, about more than just the club and the fight. The way she looked at me, the way she saw past the tattoos, the leather, the wolf—she made me believe I could be something more. Something better.

I thought about what that future might look like. Bella at my side, finding her place within the pack. I didn’t doubt for a second that she could handle it. She was tougher than she gave herself credit for, and the brothers would see that in time. She’d carve out a space for herself, just like she’d carved her way into my life.

But there were still fears. What if the pack’s world was too much for her? What if my world, my violence, my wolf, was too much? I didn’t know how to be anything else, and the thought of losing her because of it gnawed at me. Still, if there was one thing I’d learned tonight, it was that Bella was worth the fight. She always would be.

By the time the clubhouse came into view, the tension in my chest had eased, replaced with a quiet determination. The fight was over, and Dylan was gone. Now, it was time to start building something real. For me. For her. For us.

Chapter 11

The low roar of motorcycles broke the quiet of the night, a sound that set my heart racing and my breath catching. I stood on the porch of the clubhouse, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as the lights of the approaching bikes cut through the darkness. They were back. He was back.

As they came closer, the headlights revealed them one by one, their silhouettes framed against the dark sky. Wolf rode at the front, as he always did, his broad shoulders squared, his presence commanding even from a distance. The others flanked him, Cutter, Ironhead, Rocco, and the rest, their faces shadowed but unmistakably triumphant.

The weight that had been pressing on my chest since they left finally eased. Relief surged through me, mingling with a flood of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Fear, hope, love—all of it rushed to the surface as the bikes came to a stop in the gravel yard.

Wolf swung off his bike with the kind of grace that shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size. His eyes met mine instantly, piercing and intense, and the rest of the world seemed to fall away. He was here. He was safe.

Without thinking, I ran to him, my bare feet crunching against the gravel. He caught me as I reached him, his arms wrapping around me like a shield. His scent surrounded me, leather andsmoke and something uniquely him. I buried my face against his chest, gripping the back of his kutt like I was afraid he’d disappear if I let go.

“You’re okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice rough and low. “We’re okay.”

He didn’t let go. His hands were firm against my back, his head dipping to press a kiss to the top of my hair. The brothers gave us space, murmuring among themselves as they began to dismount and move inside, but I barely noticed them. All I could feel was him.

Wolf lifted me into his arms without a word, his strength effortless as he carried me through the clubhouse. My arms looped around his neck; my face tucked against his shoulder. I felt safe, anchored in a way I hadn’t been in years.

When we reached his room, he kicked the door shut behind us and set me down gently. The second my feet touched the ground, his hands were on me, framing my face as he kissed me. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was desperate, consuming, a fire that burned through every doubt and fear I’d carried all night.

I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and I shivered, heat pooling low in my stomach.

“Wolf,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You’re mine, Bella. Always.”

He backed me up tumbling us both down together onto the bed. His weight pressed against me, solid and unyielding, and I felt completely surrounded by him. Safe. Protected. Desired.

Clothes disappeared in a blur of heat and urgency, the cool air a stark contrast to the fire between us. His hands were everywhere, mapping the curves of my body, his touch rough and reverent all at once. I arched into him, my body responding to every kiss, every touch, every whispered word.

When he finally moved inside me, it was overwhelming. The connection between us was electric, raw, and so real it left me breathless. We moved together, a desperate rhythm that spoke of need and love and everything we couldn’t put into words. His name was a prayer on my lips, and he answered it with every touch, every thrust, every promise.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, the room quiet except for the sound of our breathing. His hand traced lazy circles on my back, his other arm wrapped securely around me. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

---