Epilogue - Nine Months Later #2
“Either you go faster or I take over,” he demanded, but I kept the pace leisurely, watching his control snap thread by thread.
I rolled my hips in a way that made his eyes widen.
That broke him. His grip on my hips turned bruising as he slammed up into me, taking control with brutal thrusts that had me crying out in surprise and pleasure.
The intense pace, the angle, the way he filled me so completely—it all collided into one perfect storm that ripped my orgasm from me, his name the only word I could remember.
I opened my eyes to see the moonlight had turned everything ethereal—the water lapping at the bank, the way Ryan’s skin gleamed with sweat, the desperate need in his wolf-bright eyes.
“Ready for another one?” he grinned at me.
Another one?! Before I could even process the question, he flipped me over with effortless strength, my back hitting the soft earth as he settled over me, caging me with his arms.
“Damn, look at you,” he rasped, his length pressing against my entrance. “Spread out for me, still trembling from coming on my cock.”
The first thrust made me cry out against his lips—I was still sensitive, still clenching from my last orgasm, and he felt impossibly big.
“Too much?” he panted against my mouth.
“No,” I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “More. Goddess, give me more.”
He obliged, driving into me with long, deep strokes. The cool earth beneath me, the night air on my fevered skin, and Ryan above me, taking me like he owned me—it was overwhelming, and for a moment, I felt like the luckiest person on the planet.
“You feel so good,” he moaned, one hand fisting in my hair while the other gripped my hip. “So tight around my cock. Like you were made for me.”
I could only whimper in response, lost in the sensation of being claimed so completely. But even as pleasure built inside me again, I needed more. I needed—
“The tree,” I gasped against his ear, biting his earlobe until he hissed. “Take me against the tree.”
His answering growl was purely animal.
He pulled out, leaving me empty and aching, before hauling me up with those strong hands. He backed me against the broad trunk of the old willow, the bark rough against my spine as he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist.
When he thrust back into me, the angle was deeper, more intense.
“Yes,” I cried out, the sound echoing off the water. “Harder.”
He obliged, his mouth finding my throat. The combination of his teeth, his cock hitting exactly right, and the wild freedom of being taken under the open sky sent me spiraling toward the edge again.
But he pulled back just before I could fall, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“Ryan—”
“Not yet,” he rumbled, that wicked grin I loved and hated in equal measure. “Turn around.”
My pulse spiked as he spun me to face the tree, my palms flat against the bark. He kicked my legs wider, one hand grabbing my hair as the other guided himself back to my entrance.
When he thrust in from this angle, I screamed. It was so deep, so overwhelming, that I could barely think. He started slow, punishing us both with the agonizing rhythm, each stroke hitting every sensitive spot inside me.
“You feel incredible,” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot against my ear. “So tight. So mine.”
I could only whimper in response, lost in the sensation of being taken so completely. My body was wound so tight I thought I might shatter from the tension alone.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his hand sliding around to where we were joined, fingers finding that bundle of nerves that made me cry out. “Come on my cock while I’m inside you, Mai.”
The combination of his words, his fingers, and the relentless drive of his hips sent me over the edge yet again. I came with a scream, my body clamping down on him so tightly he cursed and followed me over, spilling into me with a roar that made the night itself seem to shiver.
We stayed pressed against the tree, both shaking, both trying to catch our breath. When he finally pulled out and turned me in his arms, I was wrecked, completely undone.
“Damn, Ryan,” I panted against his chest. “That was…”
“Amazing,” he finished, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Yes,” I whispered, still trembling.
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
My laugh was sudden, delighted. “Never.”
The night held its breath with us—then my wolf shoved to the surface.
Shift, she demanded. I had put her off for long enough.
I felt it building in my bones first—that familiar ache that started deep in my marrow and spread outward like liquid fire. My skin began to tingle, then burn.
Ryan was already Shifting when the change hit me like a tsunami.
My spine elongated with a series of sharp cracks that were sometimes agony, but today felt like relief.
My jaw stretched and reformed, teeth sharpening as my face pushed forward into a muzzle.
The bones in my hands and feet broke and rebuilt themselves, fingers becoming claws, arms becoming powerful legs.
My skin rippled and sprouted thick, silver-gray fur that caught the moonlight like spun metal.
Every nerve ending came alive as the transformation completed itself, my senses exploding as the world remade itself around me.
What had been darkness became a landscape painted in sharp grays and blues, every shadow defined, every movement visible.
Scents layered themselves in complex patterns—the rich loam of the forest floor, the mineral tang of the river, the musk of small creatures that had passed this way hours ago.
My ears swiveled, catching the whisper of wind through leaves, the splash of something in the water, the steady rhythm of Ryan’s heartbeat as his own Shift completed.
My wolf threw back her head and howled with pure, unrestrained joy. Finally, finally free. Not just released from human constraints, but sated, claimed, complete. The sound echoed across the water and through the trees, a song of wild happiness that made my bones vibrate with satisfaction.
Ryan’s massive gray wolf materialized beside me, bumping my shoulder. I nipped his flank playfully and danced out of range.
We took off running through the forest, four powerful legs carrying me faster than human feet ever could.
The ground flew beneath us as we bounded over fallen logs and wove between trees, muscles working in harmony.
This was what freedom felt like—pure motion, unburdened by human worries or responsibilities.
Through the Pack bonds, I felt them all—the twins creating mayhem, Derek’s steady presence, Sofia’s warm contentment, Jase working late with Carlito, Evelyn on patrol near the northwest border.
Jem and Esme eating dinner together. All well.
All safe. All exactly where they should be.
I followed Ryan deeper into the forest, following old trails we hadn’t explored in a while, weaving between the ancient trees that had watched over this land, this Pack, longer than memory.
This territory was ours in a way humans could never fully comprehend.
Every tree held memories, every clearing echoed with Pack history.
For hundreds of years, we had fought for this land, bled for it, raised our young here.
It sang in our bones like an ancient song, a promise that this place would always be home.
When we finally circled back home, the moon was high, and my wolf was content. Ryan and I Shifted at the tree line, breathless and grinning like idiots.
“I missed that,” I panted, pulling my clothes back on.
Ryan dragged me against him, kissing me softly. “We should do it more often.”
“Derek and Sofia might regret their offer.”
“Their mistake.” His grin was wicked. “Come on. Let’s go rescue them.”
We found Derek and Sofia collapsed on the living room couch, looking shell-shocked. The blanket fortress had been demolished, toys scattered like a battlefield, and both twins were fast asleep—Oakley sprawled across Derek’s chest, Victoria curled up against Sofia’s side.
“How long have they been out?” Ryan whispered.
“Twenty minutes,” Sofia breathed. “We’re afraid to move.”
Derek nodded slowly. “I have new respect for what you two do every day.”
“Don’t wake them,” I warned as Ryan carefully scooped up Oakley. “If they wake up now, they’ll think it’s playtime.”
I held my breath as we made our way upstairs, every creak of the floorboards making me wince. Oakley stayed limp in Ryan’s arms, completely unconscious, while Victoria remained curled against me like a warm, sleepy kitten. So far, so good.
The nursery felt like a minefield as we navigated around scattered toys and that damned squeaky floorboard by the window.
Ryan lowered Oakley into his crib with infinite care.
He shifted, made a small snuffling sound as he pulled his knees under him and stuck his butt in the air—his favorite position—then settled back into sleep.
My turn. I eased Victoria down, her tiny fist still clutching my shirt. For a terrifying moment, her eyes fluttered open, and I froze. But she just blinked sleepily, released my shirt, and curled up against her brother.
Victory.
Ryan and I exchanged triumphant grins as we tiptoed out. I was already imagining sinking into our bed, maybe even getting a full night’s sleep for once, when—
Thump.
I stopped dead in the hallway, hope dying a swift death. “Please tell me that was Gremlin,” I whispered.
Ryan’s expression said it all. We both turned toward our bedroom doorway just as a tiny shadow appeared—Victoria, hair sticking up in gravity-defying tufts, eyes round and alert like she was on some kind of secret mission.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I asked Victoria, though I knew I wouldn’t get a real answer.
She stopped just inside the room, plopped down, and launched into a string of determined babble—serious, insistent syllables like she was delivering a full intelligence briefing. Her hands flapped for emphasis.
I blinked at her. “Oh, really?”
She babbled louder.
Ryan’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Knowing these two, she’s the distraction. Where’s Oakley?”
As if summoned by his name, we heard a soft thud from downstairs, followed by what sounded suspiciously like tiny hands slapping against hardwood.
“Shit,” Ryan muttered, taking off down the hallway.
I scooped up Victoria, who looked smugly satisfied with herself, and followed. We found Ryan at the top of the stairs, Oakley tucked under one arm. Our son was wide-eyed and wriggling, still in his pajamas, blanket trailing behind him like a victory banner.
“Found him making a break for the kitchen. I’m pretty sure he was going for the cookie jar for him and Victoria. Again. And look who was supervising.”
Gremlin sat at the bottom of the stairs, tail twitching, blue eyes gleaming with what I swear was amusement.
“Of course she was,” I groaned. “They’ve corrupted the cat.”
The moment Oakley spotted his sister in my arms, he went wild—legs kicking, arms straining toward her like she was his missing piece. Ryan barely had time to set him down before Oakley launched forward, crawling fast, a guttural little growl bubbling in his throat.
Victoria answered without hesitation. She leaned toward him, palm touching his cheek, nose pressing into his hair like she was scenting him. Oakley butted back, forehead to forehead, before collapsing against her shoulder with a huff that sounded distinctly smug.
“Your kids are going to be escape artists.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, knowing what he was going to say next.
“I won’t raise the sides too high. Ten feet. That’s all.”
“Ten feet?” I repeated. “You want me to need a ladder just to put them to bed?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Ryan.”
He huffed. “Fine, you win.”
“Good,” I said, balancing Victoria on my hip while Ryan corralled a still-wriggling Oakley. “Now let’s get these master criminals back to bed.”
The second trip to the nursery felt even more precarious. Victoria had that alert look that meant she was planning something, while Oakley kept craning his neck toward the kitchen like he was already plotting his next cookie heist.
“You first,” I whispered to Ryan as we reached the cribs.
He lowered Oakley slowly, and, like a switch had been flipped, Oakley’s eyes rolled back, and he flopped against his mattress like someone had unplugged him.
Victoria practically melted out of my arms, curling up next to her brother and tangling her fist in his blanket like she belonged nowhere else.
Even asleep, the twins’ scents feathered the room, milk and warm breath, threaded with a new feral note like rain on stone and crushed needles. A promise of their wolves, more than a change.
Wolves.
No, I told my wolf. It was years yet before a first Shift; that wouldn’t come until they were five.
Wolves, she insisted.
I shrugged. She had to be wrong, but I made a mental note to talk to Thomas.
My chest ached with love so fierce it was almost painful. This was ours. Chaos, mischief, protection. All of it.
Back in our room, Ryan pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me as we settled under the covers. Still glowing from our evening by the river, forever connected by the bond that hummed between us, I felt completely, utterly content.
His mouth grazed the top of my head. “If the world burned tomorrow, I’d still choose this. You. Always you.”
I sighed, wrecked and blissed out. So fucking happy with my life.
He smirked, wicked and soft. “Don’t get too comfortable. We should practice.”
My wolf perked up shamelessly. “Practice for what?”
“For more pups.”
I blinked. “Absolutely not. Not tonight. Not this year. Not—” I cut off when he grinned at me, his shit-eating grin that meant he knew he’d wear me down. “Ryan.”
His grin widened. “A man can dream.”
“You can keep dreaming.” I kissed him. “We’ll revisit it when I’m not living on coffee.”
“So… there’s a chance.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yet you love me.”
“Yes,” I muttered, smiling. “Always.”
The Alpha House exhaled around us. Beyond the windows, the three rivers whispered their secrets to the night.
Inside our small, bright world, everything that mattered slept in a tangle of limbs, fur, and love.
Tomorrow, Oakley would be plotting another escape, and Victoria would be glaring until balance was restored—but tonight, we had this.