Page 38 of Craved By the Werewolf
"Do you?" I needed to be sure. "This isn't just about tonight or tomorrow. For wolves, this is..." I searched for words a human would understand. "Permanent. The pack already sees you as mine. If I claim you, that bond doesn't break."
She placed her palm against my chest, right over my heart. "I might be human, but I've lived in Mystic Ridge long enough to understand what it means when an Alpha chooses a mate." Her eyes held mine, unflinching. "I'm not making this decision lightly, Thorne."
My wolf pressed hard against my skin, demanding. "You'd be giving up more than just LA. There would be expectations, responsibilities. The pack would become your family."
A smile touched her lips. "I've spent my life looking for a family. Haven House was the closest I'd come, until now." Her fingers curled into my shirt. "I know what I'm choosing."
"And you're sure?" I had to ask, even as every instinct screamed at me to stop questioning and claim what was mine.
"I'm choosing you," she said, her voice steady. "Whether that's in Mystic Ridge or anywhere else." Then, with a trace of her usual sass: "Though I'd prefer Mystic Ridge. LA traffic is hell."
That broke the last thread of my restraint. I laughed, low and rough, before my hand slid to the back of her neck, tilting her head to expose the smooth curve at the base of her throat. She gave it willingly, pulse beating fast under my thumb.
"This will change things," I said, my voice barely human now. "Once it's done, you're pack. You're mine."
Her eyes met mine, dark and certain. "Then do it."
The scent of her, the trust in that single movement, ripped away the last of my control. I lowered my mouth to her skin, teeth grazing before I sank them in just deep enough to mark her. She gasped—not from pain, but from the way our bond snapped into place, fierce and unshakable. I felt it too—a connection that ran deeper than anything physical, tying us together in ways that defied human explanation.
When I lifted my head, her eyes were wide, her lips parted. My wolf growled in satisfaction, the taste of her still on my tongue.
"I feel it," she whispered, wonder in her voice as her hand came up to touch the mark. "It's like..." She searched for words. "Like part of you is inside me now."
"Because it is." I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "And part of you is in me."
Outside, a distant howl went up—then another, then more, spreading through the compound as the pack sensed what had happened. Their Alpha had chosen his mate.
She shivered at the sound. "They know."
"They know," I confirmed, my arms tightening around her. "And they welcome you."
Without another word, I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bed, the world narrowing to the sound of her heartbeat and the heat of her body against me.
EPILOGUE VALA
"Alright, we're going live to LA, New York, Boston, Dallas, and all points between in..." Mika's voice came through my headphones as she held up her fingers in the control booth. "Three... two... one."
The red ON AIR light flashed, and I leaned into the mic with the voice that had carried me from a tiny studio in Mystic Ridge to airwaves across the country.
"Good evening, night crawlers, wherever you're hiding tonight. This is Nightingale coming to you live from Mystic Ridge for another journey into the shadows." I settled back in my chair, watching the phone lines light up like fire. "Whether you're tuning in from Chicago's Moonlit Mile or the Haunted Quarter of New Orleans, you're all part of our midnight family."
Through the glass, Mika gave me a thumbs up and pointed to the call queue. Thirty-seven people already waiting. Not bad for a Tuesday night.
From the couch against the far wall, Knox cleared his throat loudly, a sound that carried just enough to be picked up by my mic.
"And yes, that rumbling you just heard is Knox, our resident elder wolf who insists he's not my co-host despite what he tells people at pack gatherings."
"Voice of experience," Knox corrected, his gravelly tone carrying across the studio. "Somebody's got to keep you honest, pup."
I shot him a warning look. "Don't call me pup on air. My listeners will think I've gone soft."
"You have gone soft. Remember when you used to threaten to hex callers?"
"I'm not a witch, and you know it." I turned back to the mic. "Ignore him, folks. He's like the equivalent of your embarrassing uncle at family dinner."
The first caller was a selkie from Portland with roommate troubles. The second, a witch from Atlanta whose love potions kept backfiring. Standard Tuesday night fare. I fielded questions about everything from vampire workplace etiquette to proper troll dating protocol, Knox adding his two cents whenever he felt like it.
"Line four," I said, patching through the next caller. "You're on with Nightingale. What's your confession?"
