Chapter 74
SEVENTY-FOUR
A fternoon faded into evening as they drove back to the cabin—their cabin, Thora reminded herself. The concept still felt novel, but right in a way she couldn’t articulate. As Artair pulled into the gravel driveway, golden light spilled from windows that had become familiar landmarks guiding her home.
Home. The word resonated in her chest, no longer threatening but welcoming.
Inside, Thora kicked off her boots and padded to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator with the casual familiarity of someone who belonged. “Dinner?” she called over her shoulder.
Artair appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with arms crossed, watching her with undisguised affection. “You cooking?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” She pulled out ingredients, moving through the kitchen with easy confidence. “I do know how to feed myself.”
“You’ve never cooked here before.” He moved behind her, arms encircling her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. The embrace enveloped her in his warmth and scent—cedar, honey, home.
“Never had reason to.” She leaned back against his chest, savoring the solid strength of him. “You always beat me to it.”
His lips brushed her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “I like taking care of you.”
“And I like letting you.” The admission came easier than expected. “But partnerships go both ways.”
His arms tightened fractionally. “Partnerships?”
Thora turned in his embrace, meeting his gaze directly. “That’s what we’re talking about, right? Sharing a home, a life.” She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “Becoming mates.”
The word hung between them, weighted with significance beyond ordinary human relationships. For shifters, mating meant more than marriage—a biological, magical connection transcending ordinary bonds. Permanent, irrevocable.
“Mates,” he repeated, voice rough with emotion. “Is that what you want, Thora?”
“Yes.” The certainty in her voice surprised even her. “I want to be your mate, Artair. Not because of convenience or proximity or healing bonds. Because I choose you.”
The kiss that followed stole her breath—tender at first, then deepening with shared hunger. Dinner forgotten, they moved together toward the bedroom, hands exploring with increasing urgency. Thora backed him toward the bed, nudging him down to sit on the edge before straddling his lap.
“Your shoulder,” he murmured against her throat.
“Stop worrying about my shoulder.” She tugged his shirt upward, impatient to feel his skin against hers. “I need you, Artair.”
His response was immediate—hands sliding beneath her shirt, mapping the contours of her back with reverent touch. They undressed each other slowly, rediscovering familiar terrain with new appreciation. When he laid her on the bed, his body covering hers with careful weight, Thora wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.
The words, once so difficult to voice, now flowed freely. She repeated them like a mantra as they moved together, as physical pleasure built between them. His answering declarations washed over her, heightening every sensation—the slide of skin against skin, the perfect synchronization of their bodies, the building tension coiling low in her belly.
When release finally claimed her, Thora cried out his name, clutching him close as waves of pleasure crashed through her. His climax followed moments later, her name a benediction on his lips as his body shuddered against hers.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her spine. The contentment that suffused her went beyond physical satisfaction—a bone-deep rightness as if some missing piece had finally clicked into place.
“I never thought I’d find this,” she murmured, tracing the defined muscle of his abdomen. “Never thought I’d want to stay in one place with one person.”
His hand smoothed her hair back from her face, touch infinitely gentle. “What changed?”
“You.” She propped herself on an elbow to meet his gaze. “You showed me that belonging doesn’t mean being trapped. That loving someone can make you stronger, not weaker.”
The wonder in his eyes melted something in her chest. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you tackled me in the town square,” he admitted with a small smile. “Even with magical handcuffs cutting off my circulation.”
Thora laughed, the sound bubbling up from a place of genuine happiness. “I thought you were the most irritating man I’d ever met.”
“And now?”
“Now you’re still irritating.” She leaned down to kiss him, softening the words. “But you’re mine.”
His smile against her lips warmed her from the inside out. “Yours,” he agreed. “Always.”
Outside the window, twilight deepened into true night, stars emerging to speckle the velvet sky. Inside their cabin—their home—Thora curled against Artair’s side, savoring the simplicity of being exactly where she belonged.