Chapter 14 #2
"Me too," I whisper. "Me too."
Eli's A-frame is quiet when we arrive, the forest around us dark and peaceful. The bond hums between us, golden and warm, settled now that the ceremony is complete.
He unlocks the door, but before we can step inside, I stop him.
"Wait." My voice comes out lower than intended. "I need to say something."
"Okay."
"I want this. What happens next. But I need you to know I'm choosing it. Fully present. Completely sure." I meet his eyes in the moonlight. "No doubts. No reservations."
Understanding and heat fill his expression. "Good. Because I'm going to claim you properly now. The way I've wanted to since the moment you walked into my tavern."
Then his mouth is on mine, demanding and possessive, and heat floods through me. He backs me through the doorway, kicking it shut behind us, never breaking the kiss. His hands slide under my sweater, palms rough and warm against my skin, and I gasp into his mouth.
"Eli...”
"I've got you." His voice is rough, deeper than usual. "I'm going to worship every inch of you tonight."
My sweater hits the floor. Then his shirt.
Our clothes are discarded. Skin against skin, finally, and the mate bond flares hot between us.
I can feel his desire like it's my own—raw and hungry and barely controlled.
My fingers trace the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle, the raised line of an old scar along his ribs.
"Bedroom," I manage. "Now."
He sweeps me up, cradling me against his chest as he carries me toward the stairs. The bond lets me feel his restraint, the iron control he's exerting to stay gentle when every instinct is screaming at him to claim, to possess, to mark me as his.
"You don't have to hold back," I whisper against his neck. "I want all of you."
The growl that rumbles through his chest makes heat pool low in my belly.
He carries me up to the loft, laying me on the bed with surprising gentleness, but there's nothing gentle about the way he looks at me—dark eyes tracking over my body like I'm something precious and wild he's been waiting his whole life to touch.
"You're sure?" His voice is strained. "Because once I start, Quinn, I'm not stopping until you're boneless and screaming my name."
"Promise?"
That breaks his control. He comes down over me, capturing my mouth in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and claiming heat. There's nothing between us now but desire and the golden thread of the mate bond pulling us together.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive spot where shoulder meets throat. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise of it makes me shudder. Lower, to my collarbone, my breast. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I arch off the bed with a cry.
"That's it," he murmurs against my skin. "Let me hear you."
His hands are everywhere—mapping my body, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me writhe. When his fingers slide between my thighs, finding me already wet and ready, he groans like he's the one being touched.
"So perfect," he breathes. "So ready for me."
Through the bond, I feel his pleasure at my response, feel how much my desire affects him. It's intoxicating, this feedback loop of want and need spiraling higher between us.
"Eli, please...”
"Not yet." His fingers work magic, building pressure until I'm trembling on the edge. "I want you desperate for me first."
"I am desperate...” My words cut off on a moan as he adds his mouth to the mix, tongue and fingers working in tandem until I'm clutching the sheets and saying his name like a prayer.
The orgasm crashes over me sudden and intense, amplified through the bond so I feel his satisfaction along with my own pleasure. He doesn't give me time to recover, just kisses his way back up my body and positions himself between my thighs.
"Look at me," he commands softly.
I meet his eyes as he pushes inside, slow and steady and overwhelming. The stretch, the fullness, the rightness of it—the bond flares brilliant between us, sealing the connection. I can feel him inside me and feel his pleasure at being inside me, and it's almost too much sensation to process.
"Eli...” My nails dig into his shoulders, urging him deeper.
He groans and begins to move, setting a rhythm that's controlled at first but gradually loses its restraint.
His hands grip my hips, angling me so every thrust hits deep.
The bed frame creaks with the force of his movements, and I meet him thrust for thrust, chasing the pleasure building between us.
"I've waited so long for you," he says against my throat, voice raw with emotion. "Didn't even know I was waiting until you walked into my life."
"I'm here now." I cup his face, making him look at me. "I'm not going anywhere."
Through the bond I feel his control finally snap. He moves faster, harder, one hand sliding between us to where we're joined. The dual sensation—him inside me, his fingers on the bundle of nerves that makes me see stars—sends me over the edge.
My release triggers his through the bond, his pleasure feeding back into mine in an endless loop. He buries his face in my neck with a roar, hips jerking as he finds his completion deep inside me.
We collapse together, breathing hard, the bond humming with satisfaction between us. After a moment, he rolls to his side, pulling me with him so we're tangled together.
"That was...” I start.
"Yeah." His hand traces lazy patterns on my back. "It was."
Later, wrapped in warmth and contentment, I trace patterns on Eli's chest. The bond between us hums softly, satisfied.
"I can feel you," I whisper. "Your emotions. It's intense."
"It'll settle. Get easier to separate your feelings from mine. But for now...”
"It's amazing." I prop myself up to look at him. "Overwhelming. But amazing."
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "No regrets?"
"None. This is exactly what I want."
We're quiet for a moment, just existing in this perfect bubble of contentment. Then I take a breath.
"I need to tell you something. About what I want to do. Professionally."
"Okay."
"I want to start a magazine. Online to start, maybe print eventually.
Small Batch—focusing on craft food, craft beer, authentic stories from small producers who actually care about what they make.
" The words come faster as excitement builds.
"I want to tell real stories. Give credit where it's due.
Create something that's mine, that no one can take from me.
And I want to run it from here. From Redwood Rise. "
Eli's smile is slow and warm. "Then you're home."
Those three words settle over me like a benediction. Simple. True. Perfect.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I am."
I fall asleep in his arms, the bond humming contentedly between us, the ley lines finally quiet beneath the earth.
For the first time since Vanessa's betrayal, I sleep without nightmares. Without fear. Without the crushing weight of believing everything I'd built was gone.
I sleep deeply, dreamlessly, wrapped in warmth and safety.
I wake to darkness and the sound of Eli's phone buzzing urgently on the nightstand.
He stirs beside me, reaching for it with a muttered curse. The screen illuminates his face as he reads, and I watch his expression shift from sleepy contentment to sharp alertness.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Calder." His voice is grim. "The ley lines just spiked again. Stronger than before." He looks at me, and worry fills his eyes. "Quinn, that shouldn't happen. The bonding was supposed to stabilize them. Make them settle."
A chill runs down my spine. "So why didn't it?"
"I don't know." He's already getting up, pulling on clothes. "But Calder says the pattern is wrong. Like they're not just responding to you anymore. Like they're responding to something else."
I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest. "What else?"
Eli's jaw tightens. "He doesn't know. But whatever it is, it's coming from the north. From the same direction where Jonah's energy signature disappeared six months ago."
The bond between us pulses with his concern, his need to understand what's happening. And beyond that, I feel something else.
The ley lines, stirring below us. Not gentle anymore... hungry.