Page 64 of Claws for Celebration
"Good." He leaned down until his forehead rested against hers. "Because I have something to remind you of that promise."
His hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt she wore, fingers finding the spot on her hip where his mark had bloomed a few nights ago. The skin was still tender, the scratch mark almost too perfect that branded her as his in the most primitive way possible.
She gasped at the contact, her body arching into his touch. "Lucien..."
"This is your anchor," he said, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin around the mark. "When you're lost in all that power tomorrow, when it feels like you might drift away from yourself,you remember this. You remember that you belong here, with me, in this world."
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. "I remember."
"Tell me what it means."
"It means I'm yours." Her voice was breathless, shaky with arousal and something deeper. "It means I have somewhere to come back to."
"That's right." He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to keep safe."
"And you're mine to come back to," she said, turning her face up to his.
"Always."
The kiss was soft at first, a gentle affirmation of the promises they'd made. But it deepened quickly, becoming something more desperate, more claiming. He poured everything he couldn't say into it—his fear, his love, his absolute refusal to consider a world without her in it.
When they broke apart, she rested her head against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat against his ribs, quick and unsteady but strong. Alive.
"Stay with me tonight," she said into the quiet. "Not just in the bookstore. Stay with me."
He understood what she was asking, what she was offering. Not just physical comfort, but the kind of intimacy that would make their bond even stronger. The kind that would give her one more reason to fight her way back to him.
"Wild wolves couldn't drag me away," he said, and meant every word.
Outside, the October wind rattled the windows, but inside the bookstore, surrounded by ancient wisdom and new love,they had everything they needed to face whatever tomorrow might bring.
38
MOIRA
Moira woke to the sensation of Lucien's fingers tracing lazy patterns across her bare shoulder, his touch gentle enough not to fully rouse her but persistent enough to pull her from the depths of sleep.
"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured against her temple, his voice still rough with sleep.
She stretched languidly, every muscle in her body pleasantly sore from their night together. "Mmm. What time is it?"
"Early enough that we have time for one more practice session before the cavalry arrives." His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. "How are you feeling?"
The question carried weight that went far beyond physical comfort. Today was the day and the reality of that began to sink into her bones.
"Nervous," she admitted, turning in his arms to face him. The morning light caught the concern in his dark green eyes, making her heart clench with love and determination in equal measure. "But ready."
"Let's test that readiness," he said, kissing her before sitting up and reaching for his discarded shirt.
They moved through their morning routine with the easy intimacy of a couple who'd been together for years rather than weeks. Coffee prepared in comfortable silence, shared glances over steaming mugs, the simple pleasure of existing in the same space. When they finally made their way to the ritual practice area in the bookstore's back room, Moira felt centered, not by magical preparation, but with love.
"Start with basic energy manipulation," Lucien suggested, settling cross-legged on the floor across from her. "Let me feel how the bond affects your control."
She closed her eyes and reached for her magic, feeling the familiar golden warmth rise in her chest. But this time, instead of the wild surge she'd grown accustomed to, the power flowed with silk-smooth precision. Through their mate bond, she could sense Lucien's steady presence, his panther's natural resistance to magical influence acting like a stabilizing anchor.
"That's incredible," she breathed, opening her eyes to find threads of golden light dancing between her fingers in perfect geometric patterns. "It's like having a filter that removes all the chaos."
"Can you handle more power?" he asked, leaning forward with professional interest despite the way his gaze lingered on her lips.
