Page 55 of Claws for Celebration
"Your place," she said, color rising in her cheeks. "If we're going to discuss binding our souls together permanently, I'd prefer privacy and comfort rather than sitting in a garden where half the town could overhear us."
Lucien's panther practically purred with satisfaction at her choice, recognizing it as acceptance not just of the magical connection but of him as a man worthy of her trust. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure that I love you," Moira replied, the simple statement carrying more weight than any grand declaration. "I'm sure that walking away from what we could have together would be the biggest mistake of my life. And I'm sure that if we're going to save the world, we might as well do it as partners in every sense of the word."
As they rose from the bench and made their way toward his apartment behind the bookstore, Lucien felt the last of his careful emotional barriers crumble. She'd seen his worst mistake, understood his deepest fears, and chosen to trust him anyway.
Lucien finally allowed himself to hope that they really could face whatever darkness was coming and emerge victorious on the other side.
32
MOIRA
Lucien's apartment behind the bookstore was exactly what Moira had expected: warm, masculine, and filled with books that spoke of a mind constantly seeking knowledge. But tonight, as he closed the door behind them and turned to face her with eyes that held both desire and reverence, the familiar space felt charged with possibilities that made her skin tingle with anticipation.
Lucien turned to face her, and everything stopped.
His ink-black hair, loose around his shoulders, shimmered like water in moonlight. His deep forest eyes held both hunger and something gentler—something sacred.
“Are you certain about this?” he asked, his voice rough with the kind of restraint that made her belly clench. “Once we cross this line, there’s no going back to what we were before.”
She stepped toward him, reached up to frame his face with both hands. His skin was warm under her palms, the stubble on his jaw deliciously rough. “I don’t want to go back,” she said, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. “I want to move forward. With you. As whatever we’re meant to become together.”
The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It was deep and slow, like the kind that cracked something open inside her chest. Their mouths slid together with reverent hunger. His tongue teased hers, not asking—inviting.And when his hands settled on her hips and pulled her closer, she could feel the thick ridge of his cock straining beneath his jeans.
"I love you," he murmured against her throat, lips brushing the skin just below her jaw where her pulse thundered. “Not just because of fate or magic or mate bonds. Because you’re brave, and brilliant, and stubborn as hell.”
Moira’s breath hitched as her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. “I love you too,” she whispered, each word a spell. “Because you protect without controlling. Because you see all of me—even the pieces I’m still figuring out—and you still want me.”
As she pushed his shirt open, she marveled at the way the golden magic in the room responded, casting a soft, pulsating glow across his chest. Scars laced his skin like stories, each one speaking of survival, not weakness. She slid her hands over the warm expanse of him, fingers splaying across his ribs and up to his shoulders. He was strong—built like something feral had learned discipline—but his hands, when they touched her, were reverent.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, brushing his thumbs along her wrists.
“With anticipation,” she admitted, heart thudding as he pulled her cardigan from her shoulders and eased her top over her head. “With need.”
He exhaled like the sound hurt, then stepped back just enough to look at her. She stood in her simple lace bra and slacks, bare feet pressing into his worn wooden floors, curls mussed from his hands. Her glasses had slid down her nose, andbefore she could reach to remove them, he gently pushed them back into place.
“Don’t take them off,” he said, voice rough. “You look like temptation.”
She laughed, nervous and breathless—but then his hands were back on her, sliding into her curls, and he kissed her again, deeper, hungrier. Her magic responded immediately, golden threads weaving around them, lighting the room like starlight caught in motion.
"Your magic," he whispered against her lips, his hands moving to unhook her bra, exposing her breasts to the air and his gaze. "It’s beautiful. Alive."
"It feels stable with you," she said, her skin burning under his hands. "Like it knows it belongs to you as much as I do."
Lucien groaned low in his throat and lowered her gently to the plush rug near the fireplace. She gasped as his lips trailed down her neck, tracing the spot where her shoulder met throat—the place that made her thighs clench and her toes curl.
“The mate bond,” she whispered as golden energy pulsed around them. “I can feel it strengthening.”
“Do you want me to slow down?” he asked, though his voice was tight, his muscles shaking with restraint.
“No,” she said, her hands sliding to his belt. “I want everything. I wantyou.”
With that, his control snapped.
He made quick work of his jeans, stripping down until his full body was bare and bathed in firelight. Moira’s breath caught when her gaze landed on his cock—thick, long, and flushed dark with need. Her thighs instinctively pressed together.
“Lie back,” he said, voice a velvet growl.
