Chapter 14
Lila
Holt grabs my waist and hauls me against him, mouth crashing onto mine as he backs me up against a big old pine tree. His hands roam everywhere — my hips, my ass, the back of my neck — all possessive, all hungry. His cock is rock-hard against my stomach, thick and pulsing through his jeans.
Snow drifts off the branches above us.
He notices.
“Inside,” he growls. “Now. I’m not claiming you out here.”
Claiming me.
I don’t know what he means by that, but I sense I want it, more than anything.
He spins me, guiding me toward the cabin with his hands on my hips, his breath hot against my ear as he mutters things that go straight between my legs.
The moment the door slams behind us, he yanks my jacket off, tosses it across the room. My shirt goes next. He’s not gentle — he’s frantic, feral, like he’s seconds from losing control.
“Bedroom?” I whisper.
“No. Here.”
Before I can answer, he scoops me up, carrying me past the fireplace and straight onto the big sheepskin thrown over the rug. He sets me down hard enough that the breath leaves my lungs in a gasp.
He strips fast—shirt ripped off, belt undone, jeans shoved down his legs. His cock springs out, thick and flushed, already leaking precum.
“Holt—”
“You told me you want my cubs,” he says, voice low and shaking. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
He hooks his fingers in my jeans and drags them down, underwear ripped off in one sharp tug. My legs fly open automatically. He kneels between them, his hands gripping my thighs so tightly I feel the tremor in his fingers.
He’s barely holding his bear back.
He drags me down toward him.
“I need to taste my mate,” he mutters.
He bends and buries his mouth between my legs. No teasing. No warm-up. His tongue drives deep, stroking hard and fast, like he’s determined to make me come before he even gets inside me.
My hand slams against the rug.
“Holt—!”
He growls into my pussy and sucks on my clit, rough and deliberate. The shock of it rips straight through me. My hips buck. My thighs clamp around his head. He doesn’t slow — he holds me open and feasts like he’s starving.
The orgasm hits like a lightning strike. My nails dig into his scalp as I shake through it, every muscle pulled tight while his tongue keeps working me, dragging out every pulse.
When my body finally slumps back, he rises over me. His pupils are blown, eyes almost entirely gold.
“You ready?” he asks, voice gravel-rough.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Claim me.”
He lifts my hips, aligning us, and thrusts inside in one long stroke. The angle is unreal—deep and intense—and I cry out, grabbing his shoulders for balance.
He sets a pace that’s fierce and relentless, his hips snapping forward with raw power. The rug bunches under my back. The firelight flickers across his chest, casting shadows over his muscles as he moves above me.
“I’m going to mark you,” he rasps.
He tilts my head back to expose the place he wants.
“Right here. My teeth. My claim.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Do it. I want it.”
He bends, thrusting harder — each stroke deep, perfect — and bites into the curve of my neck. His teeth break skin, a sharp, primal pain that yanks another orgasm straight out of me.
My pussy tightens around him in fierce, desperate pulses.
He roars against my throat and drives deep — deeper than ever before— and I feel it when he comes. His seed filling me in long, shuddering bursts, his entire body locked against mine.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are wild, and a shudder goes through me. I see man and bear in one, and it’s the most beautiful sight in the world.
Heat still pulses low in my belly, but the rest of me is shaking—uncontrollable tremors running through my limbs, the kind that come after something too big, too intense to process all at once.
Holt goes still.
“Lila?” His voice drops, rough with fear. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, but my throat’s too tight to speak. He pulls back just enough to see my face, one hand cupping my cheek, the other skimming down to my neck.
His fingers brush the claim-mark.
A growl trembles out of him—not anger, but something rawer. Protective.
“I was too rough,” he says. “I lost control. I—dammit, Baby, look at me.”
I lift my gaze.
He looks wrecked.
Wrecked in a way that makes my heart twist and expand at the same time.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I manage. My voice is shaky, but the truth is solid under it. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”
The word feels small compared to what’s happening inside me.
He drags his thumb along my jaw, slow, careful, reverent.
His breathing eases.
But his hand keeps trembling.
“I need to make sure,” he murmurs, lowering his head to my throat. He studies the mark like it’s the most important thing he’s ever seen, gently touching around it, checking every inch for pain.
“You’re okay?”
It’s barely a whisper.
Almost a plea.
“I’m okay,” I say. “Just… yours.”
His eyes flare.
Then he gathers me against his chest, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
I melt into him, still trembling, the weight of what just happened settling into my bones.
I’m his mate.
Claimed.
Bound.
The truth of it tears through me, leaving me breathless.
Holt presses a slow kiss to the top of my head. “My mate,” he says. “The mother of my cubs.”
I touch the claim-mark, still tender and throbbing.
“Yours,” I whisper. “All yours.”