Page 83 of Wolf of the Storm
"God," he groans. "Eliza, if you keep doing that...”
"Then what?" I stroke him again, watching his face. The pleasure there. The need. "What will you do?"
His eyes snap open, and the heat in them steals my breath. In one smooth motion, he lifts me slightly, positioning me over him. His hands settle on my hips, and I feel the blunt pressure of him at my entrance.
"This," he says, and pulls me down onto him in one long, slow slide.
I cry out at the fullness, at the sensation of him filling me completely. It's almost too much after four days of nothing but pain and healing. But it's also perfect. It's life. It's proof that we're both here and whole and alive.
For a moment, we just stay like that. Connected. Joined. Breathing the same air. The mate bond pulses between us, so bright I swear I can see it glowing in the steam-filled air.
Then Declan's hands tighten on my hips, and he starts to move.
It's slow at first. Careful. Mindful of my healing body. But as I start to move with him, as I roll my hips and take him deeper, the pace builds. Need overtakes caution. Desire burns away restraint.
Water laps against the sides of the tub with each movement. I brace my hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to ride him harder. His mouth finds my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast. Every kiss, every touch is a brand. A claim. A promise.
Through the bond, I feel everything he feels. The slick heat of me around him. The way my body grips him with each stroke. The pleasure building at the base of his spine. It feeds back into my own sensations, amplifying everything until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
"Look at me," he demands, and I do. His eyes are storm-grey, electric with power barely contained. "I want to see you when you come apart for me."
His hand slides between us, finds the bundle of nerves at my apex. The first touch makes me gasp. The second has meshaking. By the third, I'm crying out his name as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
The bond explodes with sensation. My orgasm triggers his, and I feel him pulse inside me as he follows me over the edge. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me down on him as he empties himself into me with a hoarse shout.
We stay locked together as the aftershocks fade, both trembling. The water has cooled around us, but we're generating enough heat between us that it doesn't matter.
Declan's forehead drops to my shoulder. His breath comes hard and fast against my skin. Through the bond, I feel his emotions—love and relief and joy and a possessiveness so fierce it should probably alarm me.
It doesn't. Because I feel exactly the same way.
"I love you," he says against my skin. "I love you. I choose you. Every day, every moment, I choose you."
The bond between us blazes with the truth of it. This isn't just biological imperative. This is choice. Commitment. The decision to build a life together no matter what comes.
"Marry me." The words spill out of him fierce and certain. His head lifts so he can look at me. "Not because of the bond. Not because we're guardians. Marry me because I choose you. Because I want to stand up in front of the pack and the brotherhood and anyone who'll listen and declare that you're mine and I'm yours. Be my wife."
My heart stops. Then restarts, racing.
"Yes." The word comes out breathless, certain. "To you. To us. To everything."
His kiss is joy incarnate. Pure and uncomplicated and perfect. We've survived. We've won. And now we get to build something beautiful out of the ashes.
Eventually, we have to emerge from the cooling water. Declan helps me out carefully, mindful of my still-healinginjuries. He wraps me in towels and dries me with gentle hands, pressing kisses to each fading bruise, each healing scar. Like he can love the damage away.
Then he carries me back to bed and lays me down with a tenderness that makes my throat tight. He climbs in beside me, pulls the covers over us both, and tucks me against his chest.
"Sleep," he murmurs. "I've got you."
I'm already drifting, exhausted but content. Safe. Loved. Home.
The mate bond settles around us like a blanket, and through it I feel Declan's steady presence. His love. His certainty. His choice.
Tomorrow will come with all its complications. Tonight, I have everything I need—Declan's arms around me, the bond singing between us, and the ring he'll put on my finger when we're ready to face the world.
For now, we rest. We heal. We exist in this perfect moment.
Moira
