Page 87 of Curses and Casualties
“Here,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Now. I need?—”
He covers my body with his before I finish speaking. The sun warms our bare skin while the stream provides a gentle soundtrack to our claiming. Every touch shoots lightning through our bond until I’m drowning in sensation.
His mouth traces fire down my throat, teeth grazing where my pulse hammers. “Mine,” he rumbles.
I rake my nails down his back, marking him. “Prove it.”
He doesn’t need encouragement. When he pushes into me, slow and deliberate, we both cry out. Our bodies move together like we were forged for this exact moment. The bond between us pulses molten gold, dragging us deeper into each other’s orbit.
Through our connection, I feel everything he feels—lust, love, the primal drive to claim and protect. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
When I come, it’s wild and bright, pleasure rolling through me in waves that make me howl for real. Ryan follows immediately, my body’s grip and our soul-deep connection pulling him over the edge. He buries his face in my neck, breathing my name like a prayer.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “My mate. My love.”
“Yours,” I agree, still trembling. “Always yours.”
We stay tangled together, heartbeats slowly syncing while birdsong fills the clearing. Eventually Ryan props himself up, brushing damp hair from my forehead.
“I wish every morning could be like this,” he says.
I stretch in the warm grass, completely satisfied. “We’re allowed some selfishness. The world won’t collapse because we spend one morning pretending we’re ordinary wolves.”
He grins, but his eyes grow thoughtful. “It might not collapse. But they’ll come for us eventually.”
He means the other packs, the witches, the supernatural community that’s been in chaos since we broke everything open. Some days I get fifty emails from alphas and chieftains, even vampires—all wanting to negotiate or form alliances. It’s exhausting but thrilling. For the first time, my voice matters beyond rocks and soil samples.
But mornings like this remind me, I’m happiest wild and free with Ryan.
Eventually hunger drives us to shift again. We run home side by side, taking our time, enjoying the easy companionship. Every inch of this territory sings recognition now, our home, our pack, our perfect sanctuary.
The cabin appears through the trees, and that same rightness fills my chest. This is where it all began. Where I belong.
We shift back on the porch, grabbing the robes we’ve learned to keep handy. I’m still tying mine when a familiar voice calls out.
“Well, that’s a sight I could have lived without.”
I spin to find Scarlett smirking from the bottom of the porch steps. She looks good—healthy, stronger than before—though something careful still lingers in her eyes when she thinks no one’s watching.
“Scarlett!” I rush down to hug her. “I thought you were doing perimeter checks today.”
“I was. But look who showed up.” She steps aside with a knowing grin.
My heart stops completely.
“Georgie?”
My brother emerges from behind a massive oak, looking uncomfortable but trying to hide it behind his easy smile. He’s dressed in his usual khakis and button-down, so utterly normal in this supernatural setting I almost laugh.
“Jason?” I breathe.
Then I’m running, bare feet on grass, throwing myself into his arms like I’m eight years old again. He catches me easily, swinging me around.
“I had to see it for myself,” he says, setting me down with that grin I’ve missed so much. “My baby sister, the werewolf queen.”
“I’m not a queen,” I protest. “Just an Alpha. Jason, I can’t believe you actually came. When I called after everything happened, I thought...”
“That I’d think you were crazy?” His eyes twinkle. “I did. For about a month. Then Honey sent me this ‘fictional’ story about mountain werewolves who turn into magical stones when they die. Seemed oddly familiar.”
