Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
THE ACHE OF WAITING
Ronan
I am still not lurking.
I am ensuring her safety.
It just so happens that the best place to do that is in the woods, shadowing the perimeter of her cabin, keeping an ear tuned for anything that might threaten her.
Including myself.
Belvedere pads silently through the tall grass, his tail flicking as he meanders without a care in the world. I reach down, scooping the little traitor into my arms. He lets out a soft, halfhearted protest before curling against my chest, warm and trusting.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I whisper, stroking the fur between his ears. “It’s not safe.”
Not for him.
And not for her.
Because when Maya steps out onto the mini porch, calling for him in that soft, lilting voice, I feel my entire body lock up .
She is a vision.
The moonlight hugs her skin, catching in the wild waves of her dark hair, making it ripple like silk. She’s wrapped in something soft and oversized, an old sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, baring the delicate line of her collarbone.
My throat goes dry.
The horrors of my past—the blood, the battles, the scars—will never touch her.
I will never let them.
And yet?—
I am already shaking with the need to claim her.
To mark her , hold her close, let my scent sink into her skin so every male in this town knows exactly who she belongs to.
She has no idea.
No idea that every fiber of my being is already straining toward her. That my body is tight with a hunger no amount of self-control can ease.
She stands on the porch, hands on her hips, her mouth pursed as she scolds the empty air, tossing out vague threats I know she’ll never follow through with.
“If you don’t come back right now, mister, I swear—no more gourmet treats! And you love those!”
I huff a quiet laugh, lowering my voice so only the cat can hear.
“You hear that, Belvedere? Your human needs you.” I scratch under his chin, voice turning gruff. “Keep her safe for me. Keep her inside and cozy. Make sure she stays warm .”
The cat blinks once. Then, without hesitation, he hops over the tall grass and bounds toward her, slipping seamlessly into her line of sight.
Maya’s entire face lights up.
The way she smiles, her obvious pleasure at seeing him safe, warms something in my chest.
She scoops him up, holding him close as she nuzzles against his soft fur, murmuring words of affection.
And I am left in the shadows, aching.
She disappears inside, and I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
I need sleep.
I need distance .
I turn, making my way back to my own cabin, forcing myself to ignore the insistent, pulsing need that has been building since the moment I laid eyes on her.
I should let it be.
Should let this want settle, temper itself , bury it deep.
I climb into the shower, letting the hot stream punish my skin.
All I can think about is her in the bathtub, pleasuring herself. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, lashes resting on her cheeks. I grow hard for her, the knot at the base of my cock swells. I stroke myself, imagining how tight her hot little cunt will be around me. I'd work myself into her channel, marking her so deeply she will only want me.
I come thinking of her smiling face, how I'll paint her body with my scent. Enough for her to bathe in. I grow hard again and shoot my load, ropes of cum gushing out. I'd fill her to the brim, seal her with my knot, and still would be leaking out of her.
I shower until the water cools. I shake off the excess from my fur and step out to towel dry the rest. When I finally lie down, the pressure in my gut only gets worse, burning through every muscle, every inch of my skin, until I know the only relief I will ever feel from this point forward is when she accepts my knot.
By 11AM sharp, I’m at her door, eager in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Maya steps out, fresh-faced and bright-eyed, the faintest hint of lavender and honey lingering on her skin.
I watch her, and something settles deep inside me.
She chose to spend this time with me.
She could’ve refused. Could’ve changed her mind.
But she didn’t .
That means something.
We drive into town, the roads winding through towering pines and sleepy mountain cottages, past the small but thriving center of Avalon Vale.
“This is surreal,” she murmurs, looking out the window. “It’s like stepping into a storybook.”
I glance at her. “Good surreal?”
She grins. “The best kind.”
Brunch is at The Misty Brew, a cafe nestled near the main square, its outdoor patio bathed in golden sunlight.
We settle into a small, cozy corner, the scent of fresh-baked bread and brewed coffee wrapping around us.
Maya orders a stack of wild berry pancakes, already plotting her syrup-to-bite ratio with precision. I get a plate of roasted root vegetables and smoked venison—a solid, hearty meal.
But the food?
It’s secondary .
Because once we start talking, everything else fades away.
One hour rolls into three.
She tells me about her travels, about the people she’s met, the places that have stolen pieces of her heart.
She doesn’t just talk about places—she paints them with her words, making me see the blue deserts of New Mexico, feel the salt air of the Pacific Northwest, hear the bustling streets of New Orleans.
And I?
I just listen.
I let her fill the space between us with her wild, wandering spirit, and I?—
I want .
It’s the easiest thing in the world to sit across from her, watching her talk, watching her eyes light up when she tells a story, watching the way she gestures with expressive hands, like she’s pulling the whole world into existence as she speaks.
She’s free, unbound by anything, always moving, always chasing something new.
And yet, here she is.
Here, with me.
I don’t rush her.
I don’t push.
Because I know she’ll leave.
She’s already told me she doesn’t stay in one place for too long.
But I also know?—
She’s still here.
And that means something, too.
Eventually, she sighs, stretching her arms over her head.
“I really need to work now.”
I nod, the moment shifting. I have my own obligations—a northside patrol with Vane to handle a boundary issue.
I pay for our meal before she can argue.
As we step outside, I ask, “You have plans for the rest of the day?”
Maya grins. “Only with every single spa amenity Wilding Way Resort has to offer.”
I smirk, pleased. “Good.”
She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Good?”
I step a little closer. Not touching. Not yet.
But close enough.
“So I’ll see you later,” I say, voice low and certain.
Something flickers in her eyes.
And then?—
She smiles.
“I’d like that.”
And just like that, my day feels lighter.
Even as I leave her, even as I head toward duty and obligation, the weight of waiting for her isn’t so unbearable.
Because she wants to see me again.
And that?
That’s everything.