Page 79 of A Pack of Mistletoe
This is different.
It’s a steadiness that holds. A quiet promise that I’m not beneath him—I’mbesidehim. His power twines with mine, and instead of drowning me, it anchors me.
Harlan groans, forehead pressed to mine, eyes wild and reverent. “You feel that, Starlight?” he whispers. “That’s us. Equal. Always.”
My heart clenches. The bond hums, solid and sure, sinking into my bones until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. It’s not about control. It’s belonging.
I cup his cheek and whisper back, “Always.”
Kai
It’s traditional—and expected—for the dominant alpha in a pack to bond the omega first. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel a sharp little ache, like frostbite at the edge of my heart, when I see Harlan’s mouth at her neck. Or the way she bites him in return, in the same place, like she was always meant to. Something passes between them—silent as snowfall, but solid as stone. A promise sealed in skin.
When they finish, Harlan leans in and murmurs something in her ear. Whatever he says makes her lift her head and find me in the low golden light.
“Kai,” she breathes.
My name on her lips sounds like a hymn sung on Christmas Eve.
Harlan moves aside, and she crawls toward me without a word. She straddles my lap like she’s unwrapping a gift, like she knows she’s mine and I’ve waited all year for this moment. Her thighs slide around me—and then she’s lowering herself onto my hard cock, sweet and slick and hot.
I moan, guttural and full, chest heaving.
“Rosie. god, Rosie.” I press my forehead to hers, dizzy with the feel of her. “I’m so sorry I left you there. I should’ve looked harder. I should’ve brought you home sooner. Will you please—”
She presses a single soft finger to my lips. Just that. And the world stills.
“Harlan and I already talked about it,” she whispers. “We’re here. That’s what matters now. I need you.”
Her voice shakes a little. “I’ve always needed you, Kai.”
My lips crash into hers. Rough, breathless, full of joy and ache. When I pull back, I cup her face like she’s the star on top of my whole damn world.
“I need you too, Rosie. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
She smiles—and it lights me up from the inside out.
I trail my nose along her cheek, breathing her in, tasting her skin, nuzzling the warm curve beneath her ear.
“I love you,” I whisper again. And then I bite.
She gasps—sharp as sleigh bells, bright as winter stars—and her head tips back, her body clutching mine in tight bliss.
My hand cradles her nape while I kiss the mark I’ve just made, gentle and reverent, like it’s the first ornament hung on a tree.
When I finally meet her eyes again, she’s looking at me like I’m everything she’s ever wanted.
“You feel like home,” she whispers.
She lifts my arm, cradles it like something precious, and bites just below my elbow—right where we used to pretend, back when we were young and dreaming.
And then she melts into me.
Rosie feels like rose petals. Like a Christmas miracle made flesh.
She’s warmth in my veins. She’s wonder in my chest. She’s mine—and I’m hers.
Home.
