Page 69 of Collar Me Crazy
“Even the earth is celebrating,” Ryker said, awed.
The reception unfolded like magic itself. Tables laden with dishes from every corner of their supernatural community appeared, conjured with flair. Music carried across the lake as fae and shifters danced together, their laughter joining the rhythm. The Veil glowed above, not as fragile shield but as a living dome of safety, stronger than it had been in generations.
Callum elbowed Ryker as he passed, muttering, “Told you you’d wear the damn tie.” Cora swatted him for ruining the romance, but Sonya caught the grin Ryker sent back.
Emmett clapped Ryker’s shoulder with enough force to rattle him. “About time, brother.” Katniss slipped Sonya a bouquet of late-blooming roses she’d charmed to never wilt, whispering, “For luck.”
Moira, already tipsy from glowing fae-wine, announced loudly that she was starting a wager on who’d catch Sonya’s bouquet. Lucien groaned but joined in the betting, muttering about “fae traditions gone rogue.”
Freya and Kieran danced so wildly they almost toppled into the dessert table, saved only by Kaia’s quick flick of magic that levitated the pies back into place. “Some wedding,” Kieran called over, grinning. “Guess we’ll all be telling our grandkids this one.”
When Ryker finally pulled Sonya into their first dance, the town fell into a hush. He bent his head close. “How do you feel? Too much?”
She rested against him, smiling through tears. “Stop worrying. I feel perfect. Complete. We got here when we were ready.”
They swayed beneath the stars, the completed bond between them thrumming like music itself. Around them, Hollow Oak celebrated not just victory, but the power of love made manifest.
And Sonya knew—this was her home, her family, her forever.
The bloodmoon wolf had chosen love over fear, and the world was better for it.
41
SONYA
The reception still hummed outside, music spilling across Moonmirror Lake, but here—inside the small cabin that Moira and Twyla had magicked into existence just for them—everything was quiet. Candlelight flickered over the wooden walls, soft golden glow warming the autumn chill seeping in from the lake. It smelled faintly of cedar, pine, and smoke, layered beneath the scent that was Ryker—musk, wolf, and something uniquely his that had haunted her every vision since the moment they met.
Her heart thudded as she closed the door, shutting out the world. It was just the two of them now. Husband and wife. Mate and seer. Wolf and woman.
Ryker stood at the center of the room, his green eyes glowing like emerald fire in the lamplight. The suit he’d been wrangled into was half undone, the tie already discarded, the first buttons of his white shirt loose enough to reveal the taut planes of his chest. His auburn hair was a mess from the wind and dancing, but the way it caught the flicker of firelight made him look untamed, dangerous, and utterly hers.
“You’re staring,” he said, his mouth curving in that boyish, crooked smile that always managed to undo her.
“I’m memorizing,” she whispered back. “Every inch. In case I wake up and find out this is another vision.”
He crossed the room in two strides and caught her face in his hands, tilting her head back so his eyes pinned her in place. “This is real, Sonya. You’re mine. My wife. My mate. No more running, no more waiting.” His thumb stroked along her cheekbone. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
She nodded, her throat too tight for words. The bond pulsed between them, steady and alive, making her feel both grounded and weightless.
Then his mouth covered hers.
The kiss wasn’t the hungry clash of battle or the desperate claiming of prophecy—it was slow, deep, a declaration. His lips moved with aching tenderness, but the strength in his hands betrayed the tension coiled beneath his control. She tasted the wine on his tongue, the heat of his breath, the promise of everything they’d yet to give each other.
Her body responded instantly, arching toward him, pressing closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest, her heartbeat racing to match his. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her bones as his hands slid down, cupping her waist, pulling her flush against the hard line of his cock already straining against his trousers.
“Ryker…” She gasped against his mouth, her fingers clutching his shirt, needing to touch more, feel more.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his lips grazing her jaw, her throat, each word searing her skin.
“You. All of you. No fear, no holding back.”
That was all he needed. His mouth descended again, this time with more hunger, and he walked her backward until her calves hit the edge of the bed. She tumbled onto the mattress,laughter spilling from her lips before it turned into a moan as he followed her down, bracing himself above her.
The weight of him was intoxicating—the solid heat of his chest, the power in his arms, the unmistakable hardness pressing between her thighs. She shifted, her skirts tangling, desperate for more friction. He cursed softly, fumbling with the layers of her gown.
“This damn dress,” he muttered. “Beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as what’s beneath it.”
“Then take it off,” she challenged, her voice husky.
