Chapter 21 - Rosalia
Six months later
The cries of the pack echoed through the Pine Shadow Grove, roaring triumph as Rick bent her by the waist and kissed her so soundly she thought she might faint. Their hands remained joined together, bound in woven flowers.
Of course, any mating ceremony Rick was involved in would be nothing but traditional. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Three cheers for the fuckin’ Clawslayer!” Dane hollered, running over to pick them both up and spin them around as soon as Felix stepped back. Rick growled in alarm, but Rosalia could only giggle.
Apparently, killing the Alpha of the Black Claws was enough to earn her her very own nickname.
Clawslayer.
She rather liked it.
“Put me down, you absolute oaf,” Rick snarled, shoving away, yanking Rosalia back into the safe circle of his arms. She stumbled slightly, dizzy with joy, relishing the strength of his arms around her.
Dane held his hands up in mock surrender, even as Lola stalked over to tell him off. “Couldn’t be sorrier, Johnslayer.”
“Imbecile,” Rick muttered, though Rosalia spied a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
“Congratulations,” Lola said, almost bowing slightly as she dragged her mate away.
“Thank you!” Rosalia called after her, wrapping her arms around her mate’s waist. He grumbled, nuzzling into the side of her neck, eyes flashing a warning at Dane’s retreating figure.
Rosalia didn’t mind. She liked him protective.
The others surrounded them, congratulating them with more celebration and ease than their first exchange of vows.
Rick greeted them with all the haughtiness of a king holding court, but Rosalia had no such reservations.
This was her pack. Her family. She was done hiding herself away.
She hugged anyone and everyone, not even trying to temper her enormous grin, throwing herself into her community with joyous abandon.
He might have pretended to be sniffy, but Rosalia caught the satisfied gleam in Rick’s eye as he watched her. It warmed her to her core.
The fallout from the battle had been brutal. They had lost many young wolves, fighters who had given their lives defending Silvermist’s borders, and the mourning rites lasted the winter months, heavy and sick with grief.
Rosalia herself had nearly driven herself to madness with guilt, telling herself all of it could have been avoided had she not written that stupid letter.
It had taken a rather stern talking to from Lola, reminding her that John and the Black Claws would have attacked regardless, and she shouldn’t have so lofty an opinion of herself, to break her out of it.
There was still guilt for the part she played, but she bore it as best she could. And the Iron Walkers embraced her wholeheartedly.
It had been Raph’s death that turned the tide.
A leaderless pack rarely fared well. And as it turned out, Rick’s political maneuverings had paid off, after all.
The Black Claw offshoot he had found in Europe had gladly taken the territory over, easing the transition and mollifying the terrified humans.
They were a savage bunch, but in an honest sort of way. And, of course, indebted to the Iron Walkers.
As for the Green Mountain Pack…
Without her father to keep things afloat with sheer stubbornness, it wasn’t a surprise when it crumbled altogether. John Heath’s legacy was split up amongst the neighboring packs, his life’s work destroyed in an instant.
As for John Heath himself, Rosalia had built the pyre with her own hands and watched him burn.
It wasn’t her father. It hadn’t been her father for a long, long time.
Rick had held her, kissed away her tears, and helped her bury the ashes.
By all the gods, she loved him.
She loved him fiercely, wildly, unburdened by anything.
And he loved her back with equal fire.
Eva skipped over, curls bouncing, and jumped into Rosalia’s arms. “Is it time to go home yet?”
“Home?” Rosalia asked with a bright laugh, “The party’s only just starting!”
Eva pouted. “I like it when it’s just the three of us! One big, happy family!”
Rosalia hugged her close, tapping her nose. “We’ve got all the time in the world for the three of us! For now, why don’t you go play with Thea and the boys?”
Eva sniffed. “They’re all muddy.”
Rosalia’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t you want to get muddy too?”
Eva blinked, a slow smile creeping over her face. “...Yes!”
“Are you corrupting our daughter?” Rick’s arms circled around her from behind, taking Eva’s weight and holding them both close to him.
“No,” Rosalia said innocently, “I wouldn’t dream of it!”
“Cheeky little wolf,” Rick rested his chin on her head, pulling her back firmly against his chest. “I know how sneaky you can be.”
“Utter nonsense,” Rosalia replied, pulling a face at Eva that made her giggle in delight, “I’m nothing of the sort!”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Rick said with a smile in his voice. “Cunning is a family trait.”
Family. Her family.
She’d never had a real one before.
And now, she was surrounded by love, laughter, trust, and joy.
She was home.
***
There were no coy smiles when they got home. No gentle, lingering touches. No pretense of restraint.
They were, after all, both of them wolves.
Eva was safely settled in the lounge at Felix’s with the other kids, leaving the house empty and waiting for them to get back.
They barely made it through the front door before Rick was tearing her clothes from her body with vicious abandon, claiming every inch of exposed flesh as it was revealed to him.
Rosalia gave as good as she got, wrenching his shirt from his chest, sinking her teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder.
He hissed, slamming her back against the wall, shoving his thigh between her legs. Groaning, she bucked against him, sparks of pleasure shooting through her. He wasted no time in clamping the tender skin of her neck between his teeth, holding her still as his hand massaged her naked breast.
“Rick,” she gasped, arching into his touch. He growled darkly, pushing her against the rough stone.
“What did you just call me?”
She grinned, sucking her lip between her teeth with coy leisure. So it was going to be that kind of night. What else did she expect?
“My apologies, sir,” she breathed, feeling his grin against the bruised skin of her neck.
The first time they had slept together, he had promised to teach her all manner of wickedness.
And in the months following the battle, he had made good on that promise.
Many, many, many times. Rosalia was no longer frightened of his darkness, or her own, for that matter.
She was safe with him. Safe to be utterly herself, in all things.
“Good little wolf,” he said, his voice silky smooth and filled with dangerous promise. “On your knees.”
Her breathing hitched. “What if I refuse?”
He growled, fingers digging into the flesh of her arms as he spun her around, pushing her into the wall. She gasped as her nipples grazed the rough stone, the sensations making wetness pool at the juncture of her thighs.
He captured her wrists in one hand, and the other slid down her back, kneading the soft flesh of her ass.
“I think,” he said, scraping his nails over her sensitive flesh, “you know the answer to that.”
She moaned, pushing her hips backwards, grinding into him. With a tight breath of pleasure, he leaned forward, his lips grazing her ear. “Now be a good girl, and get on your knees.”
He released her, stepping back, watching her close with his predator eyes.
Slowly, she turned, not breaking eye contact with him as she lowered herself to the carpet, a thrill clenching her core at the blatant desire in his eyes. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her head up.
She tilted her head, capturing his thumb between her lips, biting it hard before soothing it with gentle laps of her tongue.
Something feral glinted in his gaze.
Without waiting for his command, she leaned forward, dragging her fingernails down his taught stomach, leaving thin red lines in her wake. He didn’t so much as blink, his expression completely taken over by pure animalistic lust.
Slowly, she unbuttoned his trousers, allowing his hardness to spring free. His hands clenched into fists at his side, but he didn’t move. He just watched her. Waited.
Tentatively, she flicked her tongue over his head, the salty taste of him thick on her tongue.
His jaw worked, but still, he didn’t move.
She grinned. Getting him to lose control was no easy task, but she relished the challenge all the same.
Wrapping her hands around his shaft, she took him into her mouth, wasting no time in hollowing out her cheeks and sucking hard.
He was hot and heavy on her tongue, his scent thick in her nose, driving her half-wild.
A fresh wave of wetness pulsed from between her thighs, and she clenched them together, desperate for the sweet bliss of friction.
Of course, in trying to get him to lose control, she also had to keep a grip on her own.
She bobbed up and down, taking him as far back in her throat as she could manage, laving her tongue over him with each pass. He grew wet with her saliva, and she used the extra slick to work him with her hands, pumping what she couldn’t manage to take.
He was so big. So masculine. The heady intensity of him made all rational thought flee her brain.
God, she wanted him inside her.
Finally, finally, his control slipped, and he hissed, bucking into her, his hands cradling the back of her head. She couldn’t help the victorious smile, and he growled at her, pushing her down onto his length in punishment.
Her core clenched. She groaned, throat vibrating around his cock.
That was all it took for the last of his control to snap.
With a snarl, he wrenched her off the floor and threw her over his shoulder, one arm holding her thighs tight as he strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
She pretended to fight. To snarl and squirm. He swatted her ass, containing her movements with delicious ease.
Without preamble, he stalked into his room, throwing her onto the bed. She scrambled upright, but not fast enough to stop him pinning her down and pulling her legs apart, sinking into her with a victorious growl.
She keened, fingernails scraping down his back.
It only encouraged him on.
He pounded into her without mercy, claiming her so completely she could barely breathe.
But she loved it. God, she loved it. She moaned with wild abandon, crying his name, begging him to go harder, go faster.
He was everywhere. Inside her, on top of her, surrounding her.
She didn’t know where she ended and he began.
And it was delicious.
She came suddenly, violently, yelping as her walls clenched around him. His eyes glittered in dark, victorious glee, and he redoubled his efforts, taking whatever he wanted from her pliant flesh.
It wasn’t long before he reached his own crescendo, roaring her name, and he spilled inside of her.
Afterwards, he was always like a completely different male.
He held her close, stroking her hair, murmuring how good she was, how perfect, how beautiful. She melted into him, her brain a happy, fuzzy daze, content to let him pour out his adoration.
And oh, how he adored her.
And she told him.
She drifted off to sleep, safe in his arms.