Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
CAUGHT
Maya
I wait.
Hiding in the leaves, my breath slow, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
I try to keep still, to listen, to feel the night around me?—
But the seconds stretch longer and longer, and the waiting becomes unbearable.
Where is he?
Is he toying with me? Letting me stew in my own anticipation?
Or has he moved on?
I don’t want that thought.
I don’t want to be forgotten in the trees, lost in the game.
The idea sparks something reckless in me.
I inhale sharply and veer off, muscles coiling, legs kicking into a sprint as I launch toward another copse of trees.
I’m fast.
But not fast enough.
Because in the next breath, I am plucked from the ground, lifted effortlessly into the air, a pair of strong arms caging me in, locking me tight against a furnace of solid heat.
The world tilts?—
And my breath catches as I realize what’s happened.
He has me.
Ronan has me.
The mood shifts.
The playful delight of the chase, the teasing edge of the game?—
It burns away into something hotter, heavier.
Something undeniable.
His muzzle presses against my ear, the warmth of his breath spilling over my skin as he growls?—
"Found you, little red."
A shudder rips through me.
My red ribbons.
I picked them.
I tied them, knowing exactly what they meant.
And now?
Now, he’s claiming them.
Claiming me.
I twist in his grip, grab at the thick fur of his chest, dragging his face toward mine.
And then?—
I kiss him.
Hard.
He meets me with a hungry snarl, his arms tightening, his claws digging into my hips as his mouth devours mine, sharp and searing, all teeth and heat.
I want more.
I want all of him.
He rips away from the kiss, panting, his golden eyes burning through me, his restraint hanging by a thread.
“We’ll do this right.”
His voice is raw, thick with a promise.
I barely have time to breathe before he grabs my wrists, pulling the ribbons from his belt?—
And tying them around me.
A slow, deliberate binding, each knot a claim, each pull a promise.
His claws skim down my arms, over my sides, until he spins me, pressing me against a tree, my chest against the bark, his massive body caging me in from behind.
I gasp, his heat swallowing me whole, my ribbons tangled around my wrists—his ribbons now.
A deep rumble vibrates through his chest, reverberating through my spine.
“You smell like mine.”
His hands trail lower, spreading my legs with a deliberate nudge of his knee.
And then?—
I feel his tongue.
A slick, hot stroke between my thighs, a devastating lap of his muzzle against the need pooling between my legs.
A shock of pleasure rockets through me, and my head tips back, a broken moan spilling from my lips.
He growls in satisfaction, lapping at me like he’s starving, his hands holding my hips open, his claws pressing into the soft flesh of my thighs as he devours me.
I writhe, my wrists straining against the ribbons, my legs weakening, my whole body a tight coil of sensation?—
And then?—
I shatter.
I cry out, my release crashing through me, my thighs clamping around his face, my body trembling as he groans against my core, drinking in every last drop.
He doesn’t let me go.
Doesn’t stop.
His growl is low, urging, filthy.
“That’s it. Soak me, little red. Let me taste all of you.”
I shudder, wrecked, my knees giving out?—
And he catches me before I can collapse.
I barely register the moment he lifts me into his arms, ribbons still tangled around my wrists, my legs draped over his powerful hold.
I am boneless, my body limp and trembling as he takes a step back.
Then another.
Then leaps.
I let out a small, startled sound, but he’s sure-footed, bounding up onto tree limbs, moving effortlessly through the forest, holding me close and tight as he carries me deeper into the Wild.
The night air rushes past us, crisp and cold, but I am warm in his arms, wrapped in his scent, covered in his claim.
We land softly, and I blearily blink up at a cabin I’ve never seen before, nestled deep in the woods.
His.
This is his den.
Ronan breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath me, his grip gentle but firm.
He shifts, setting me down but keeping me caged, his eyes searching mine, something dangerous and tender flickering in the firelit depths.
“If we do this,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, “we do it right.”
I swallow, my pulse thrumming, my body still burning for him.
“We don’t have to,” he continues, jaw tight, like the words physically pain him.
Like he’s forcing himself to give me an out.
I blink up at him, my chest rising and falling, the weight of his words settling in my bones.
I should pause, shouldn’t I?
I should take a moment, should think about what this means.
But I’m not someone who denies herself the things she wants.
And I want him.
So I lift my chin, gaze steady, and say?—
“I don’t run from the things I want.”
His breath catches.
His hands tighten at his sides.
And then?—
He lunges.