Page 41 of Wolf of the Storm
"No." I close the distance between us, backing her up until the boulder presses against her spine and she has nowhere to go. "You're not running. Not from this. Not from me. Not from what we are."
"I'm destroying what you built!" Her voice breaks. "You heard Graeme. You saw how they looked at you. Like you're weak. Like you're compromised. And maybe they're right. Maybe I am making you...”
I close the distance between us, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her hip. My mouth crashes against hers with bruising force—no gentleness, no hesitation, just raw need and the absolute refusal to let her go. She gasps against my lips, and I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss until there's no space left between us, no room for doubt or fear or anything except this.
A whimper escapes her throat—whether protest or surrender, I can't tell and don't care. Then her body melts into mine, her back arching against the boulder, and she's kissing me back with the same desperation. Her fists clench in my shirt hard enough that I hear fabric tear. She's not trying to push me away—she's holding on like she's afraid I'll disappear if she loosens her grip.
I press closer, my body pinning hers against the stone, and she makes another sound—this one definitely not a protest. Hernails dig into my shoulders through the shirt, and the sharp bite of pain only makes me kiss her harder.
When I finally pull back, we're both gasping for air. Her lips are swollen, her pupils blown wide, and I can feel her heart hammering against my chest where we're pressed together. "You're not making me weak. You're making me fight for what matters. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Tears spill down her cheeks now. "Because from where I'm standing, all I see is you having to choose between me and everything else. Your pack. Your allies. Your position. How is that fair to you?"
"It's not about fair." I rest my forehead against hers. "It's about what I can live with. And I can't live without you. Won't live without you. So yes, they'll adapt. Or they'll answer to me. But you're not going anywhere. You're pack. You're my mate." I pull back enough to look her in the eyes. "You're going to be my wife, if you'll have me. And everything else? Everything else can burn."
She stares at me, eyes wide. "Did you just... was that a proposal?"
"That was a statement of intent." I brush tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. "The formal proposal will come later, with a ring and proper words. But I need you to understand: this isn't temporary for me. This isn't something I'm going to give up when it gets hard. You're mine, Eliza. Permanently. Irrevocably. Forever."
"You're insane." But she's smiling now, even through the tears. "Absolutely insane."
"Probably." I kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. "But I'm your kind of insane. So you're stuck with me."
"Stuck with you." She laughs, the sound wet and broken and perfect. "You make it sound like a prison sentence."
"More like a life sentence. Without possibility of parole."
She kisses me again, softer this time. Sweeter. When she pulls back, steel mingles with the tears in her expression. "Then stop trying to protect me from the consequences. I knew what I was choosing when I said yes. The investigation, the pack politics, the summoner—all of it. We're in this as partners."
"Partners," I agree. "Though I reserve the right to be overprotective and possessive."
"And I reserve the right to ignore you when you're being unreasonable."
"Deal."
We stand there for a long moment, the wind whipping around us, the sea crashing below. Tomorrow will bring new challenges. More resistance. More questions about my judgment and her loyalty. But right now, with my mate in my arms and the moon rising overhead, I can breathe.
I tighten my grip on her hand, and she squeezes back. Tomorrow we'll dive into her aunt's hidden research. Tomorrow we'll hunt for the summoner. Tomorrow we'll face whatever comes.
But tonight?
I press a kiss to her temple and sense her exhaustion through the bond. "Come on. Let's get you inside before you freeze."
"So romantic," she mutters, but she's smiling.
"I'll show you romantic once you're warm."
The pack can wait. The summoner can wait. Right now, my mate needs sleep, food, and her alpha reminding her exactly why she's not going anywhere.
CHAPTER 11
ELIZA
The suggestion comes at breakfast.
"A hunt." Tessa sets her coffee mug down with deliberate care, her storm-grey eyes—so like her brother's—fixed on me across the kitchen table. "Traditional pack rite. You survive an hour as prey, you earn acceptance. No questions asked."
Declan's fork clatters against his plate. "No."
