Chapter 46
Nova
Iwake before sunrise, Dane’s arm heavy across my waist. The cabin is silent except for his steady breathing—deep, even, peaceful. Something I never thought I’d associate with him.
Three weeks.
It’s been just three weeks since I walked into Ash Hollow, stone in hand, tracking magical disturbances that felt wrong in a way I couldn’t name. Three weeks since I first caught Dane’s scent and knew—instinctively, unwillingly—that something would change between us.
I didn’t come for a pack. I came for evidence. For traces of Faelan’s interference. For confirmation that the magical imbalances I’d been tracking weren’t random fluctuations but deliberate manipulation.
I expected resistance. Got plenty of it. Kari’s suspicion. Marcus’s skepticism. Dane’s constant, simmering dominance: that relentless pressure of an Alpha who doesn’t trust anything he can’t control.
But I stayed. Trusted my instincts even when they led me straight into danger.
Now I know the truth. Faelan didn’t just manipulate others. He marked me too. The scar I’ve carried wasn’t some battle wound from a past encounter. It was engineered. A circuit. A claim. A hook embedded in my skin long before I had any idea what I was to him.
My fingers trace the faded mark. Still there, but quieter now. My magic, not his.
I’ve walked the Fade three times. First to investigate, the second almost finished me off, then one more time to dismantle it. Each time, I came out different. Less certain about some things. More certain about others.
I was a weapon before. Self-contained. Self-directed. Now I’m something else. A protector. Part of something I never expected to want.
Dane shifts slightly beside me, his heartbeat steady under my palm. His scent surrounds me—pine, ash, blood, and something uniquely him. Something that once felt like a threat and now feels like safety.
This territory. These wolves. Him.
This is home now. Not just a job. Not just survival.
I’ve been marked again—this time by choice.
I shift onto my side, studying Dane in the pale light. His face is relaxed in sleep—the hard lines of tension smoothed away, revealing the man beneath the Alpha. My fingertips trace the scar that runs along his collarbone, a memento from some long-ago battle he never talks about.
Something warm and possessive rises in my chest. This man stepped between me and death. Took a blow meant to end me. Survived when he shouldn’t have.
And here he is. Mine.
I lower my head, pressing my lips to his chest. His skin is warm, tasting faintly of salt and that distinctive scent that’s purely Dane. I circle one flat nipple with my tongue, feeling it harden under my attention. His breathing changes; not awake yet, but stirring.
I move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment while my hand slides down the ridged plane of his stomach. The muscles there tighten reflexively under my touch.
“Nova,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
I don’t answer, just continue my exploration downward. My lips trail across the defined muscles of his abdomen, following that tempting line of dark hair that disappears beneath the sheet. I pull the sheet back slowly, revealing all of him.
Even in repose, there’s nothing soft about Dane Vaughn. His body is a map of scars and muscle, built for battle and survival. I feather kisses along his hip bone, then across to the opposite hip, deliberately avoiding where he’s already beginning to harden.
His hand finds my hair, fingers tangling but not directing. “What are you doing?” His voice is deeper now, sleep falling away.
“Saying good morning.” I nip at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and am rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
His cock is fully hard now, rising thick and impressive against his stomach. I run my tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. His entire body tenses, tendons standing out in his neck as he lifts his head to watch me.
“Fuuuck,” he growls, eyes fixed on my mouth as I circle the head with my tongue.
I take him deeper, wrapping my hand around what won’t fit in my mouth. My other hand finds his balls, rolling them gently between my fingers. They’re heavy, tight, and he groans when I apply just enough pressure to make him feel it.
“Best fucking alarm clock,” he says through gritted teeth. “Better than—Jesus—“ His words dissolve into a growl as I hollow my cheeks and suck harder.
His hips thrust upward involuntarily, and I adjust to take him deeper. The muscles in his arms flex as he grips the sheets, fighting for control. His abdomen is a rigid wall of tension, every muscle defined. Sweat beads across his skin.
Those eyes that can command a pack with a glance are now dark with need, pupils blown wide. He’s watching me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“Nova,” my name is half warning, half plea. “I’m going to—“
I release him with a final swirl of my tongue, moving up his body until I’m straddling him. His hands immediately find my hips, fingers digging in hard.
“Fucking tease,” he says, but there’s no heat in it, only desperate need.
“Not teasing,” I say, positioning myself over him. I’m already wet, have been since I first tasted him. My body’s response to him is immediate, visceral; my wolf rises close to the surface, wanting nothing more than to claim and be claimed.
I can feel our bond flaring between us, that connection that surprised us both with its strength. What started as reluctant recognition has become something I can no longer imagine living without.
His cock presses against my entrance, thick and demanding. His eyes lock with mine, and I see everything there: desire, yes, but something deeper. Something neither of us has put into words yet.
“Nova,” he says my name like it’s something precious. Something sacred.
And that’s when I know—what I feel isn’t just desire or need or survival instinct. It’s love. Deep and unexpected and terrifying in its intensity.
My wolf howls in recognition as I hover above Dane, holding myself just out of reach.
His cock strains upward, the thick head pressing against my entrance but not quite breaching me.
I’m so wet already that when I slide forward, gliding my pussy along his length, we both groan at the slippery friction.
“Fuck, Nova,” he hisses, fingers digging into my hips. “Stop playing.”
I rock my hips again, letting just the tip of him part my folds before pulling back. “Is that an order, Alpha?” I tease, my voice husky with desire.
His jaw tightens, that familiar muscle jumping beneath his skin. “You know it’s not.”
And I do know. Between us, there are no orders, no submission. Just choice. Always choice.
I circle my hips, rubbing myself against him in slow, deliberate motions. Each pass slicks him further with my arousal, making the glide easier, more torturous. His cock is rock-hard, pulsing against me, and I can feel every ridge, every vein as I slide along his length.
“Nova…” More wolf than man, now. “Please.”
The plea in his voice sends a thrill through me. Dane Vaughn doesn’t beg—not for anything, not from anyone. Except me. Only me.
“Please what?” I ask, leaning down to brush my lips against his. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, trying to deepen the kiss, but I pull just out of reach.
“Please fuck me,” he growls, desperation edging into his voice. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
I position him at my entrance again, pushing down just enough to take the head inside. The stretch is exquisite—he’s big, always a tight fit at first. I close my eyes, savoring the initial pressure.
“Like this?” I whisper, rocking slightly but not taking him deeper.
“All the way,” he demands, his chest heaving with restraint. “Take all of me.”
I meet his gaze, holding it as I sink down on him inch by inch.
The fullness is overwhelming, my body stretching to accommodate him.
When I’m seated completely, I adjust my knees, spreading them wider on either side of his hips.
The shift allows him to slide even deeper, and I cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside me.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, his hands roaming restlessly over my thighs, my hips, my waist. “You feel so fucking good around me.”
I begin to move, setting a rhythm that’s slow but deep.
Each downward motion has him filling me completely, and each upward slide creates a delicious friction that makes my inner walls clench around him.
I angle forward slightly, positioning myself so my clit rubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust.
“That’s it,” he encourages, watching where our bodies join. “Use me. Take what you need.”
The dual stimulation sends jolts of pleasure shooting through me.
My head falls back, my spine arching as I ride him harder, chasing the building tension.
His hands find my breasts, cupping their weight before pinching my nipples between his fingers—not too hard, just enough to send sharp spikes of pleasure-pain straight to my core.
“Your pussy’s so wet,” he says, voice low and rough. “So fucking tight around my cock. You gonna come for me, Nova?”
His words are like fuel to the fire building inside me. I’m not usually vocal during sex, but something about the raw hunger in his voice pulls sounds from my throat I didn’t know I could make.
“You like that?” he asks, correctly reading my response. “Like when I tell you how perfect your pussy feels? How I can feel every inch of you gripping me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my rhythm faltering as pleasure builds, hot and insistent. “Don’t stop.”
He sits up suddenly, the change in angle driving him even deeper.
One arm wraps around my lower back, steadying me as he captures my mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and need and ownership.
His tongue slides against mine, mimicking the rhythm of our bodies.
His other hand tangles in my hair, holding me to him.