Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
DAHLIA
Cal took his time.
He removed the rest of her clothes, piece by piece, following each revealed inch of skin with his mouth.
Her bra—kissing the swell of her breasts until she was arching into him, his name falling from her lips in breathless whispers.
Her underwear—dragging it down her legs with agonizing slowness, his breath hot against her inner thigh, his teeth grazing sensitive skin.
By the time she was naked beneath him, Dahlia trembled. Not with cold—the fire kept the room comfortable, casting flickering shadows across the walls—but with need. With the desperate ache of wanting him inside her.
“Cal.” His name was a plea, a prayer. “Please.”
He shed his own clothes—what remained of them after she’d torn at the buttons—and she drank in the sight of him.
The broad shoulders that had held her while she cried.
The muscled torso she’d pressed her face against on too many sleepless nights.
The scars from his fight with Magnus, healing now to pale lines that matched her own.
He was beautiful in a rough-hewn way, a man built for power and protection. And he was hers. Finally, completely, officially hers.
When he positioned himself between her thighs, she opened for him instinctively. Her hands found his shoulders, pulling him down, needing his solid presence against her.
“Look at me.” His voice was rough, commanding. “I want to see your eyes when I claim you.”
She met his gaze—held it—as he positioned himself at her entrance. His jaw was tight with restraint, muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.
“I love you.” The words barely carried.
He pushed inside her. Slowly. Reverently. Inch by inch, until he was fully seated, and Dahlia’s mind dissolved into pure sensation.
Full. She was so full of him—stretched and claimed and perfectly, devastatingly possessed. His forehead dropped to hers, both of them breathing hard, adjusting to the intensity.
“You feel—” His voice broke. “God, Dahlia. You feel perfect.”
He moved. Long, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive nerve, that made her feel him everywhere. Dahlia’s head fell back, her nails raking down his back. The pleasure built in waves—each thrust pushing her higher, each withdrawal leaving her desperate for more.
This was different from before. The first time they’d made love, it had been desperate—two people clinging to each other before an uncertain battle. This was deliberate. Sacred. The claiming they’d been building toward since the very beginning.
“More,” she gasped. “Cal—more—”
He gave her more. Harder. Faster. The bed frame creaked. The headboard hit the wall. Dahlia didn’t care—couldn’t care about anything except the man above her, inside her, driving her toward an edge she was desperate to fall over.
His hips rolled against hers, changing the angle, and she cried out as sensation sparked through her body. He did it again, watching her face, learning exactly what made her fall apart.
She felt the shift in him—his control fraying, the primal rising to the surface.
His canines had lengthened, sharp against his lower lip.
His hands, braced on either side of her head, were tipped with claws that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
The bear bleeding through, demanding to claim what was his.
“Now,” she breathed. “Claim me. I want it—I want your marks—”
Cal’s hand moved to her hip. She felt the press of his claws against her skin—controlled, deliberate. He met her eyes, a question in his gaze even now.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes—”
He raked his claws across her hip.
Pain and pleasure exploded through her simultaneously.
The claiming marks burned—four parallel lines scored into her flesh, deliberate and precise—but the burn transformed almost instantly into a flood of magic.
Pure, raw magic flooding through her veins, binding her to him in ways that went beyond physical.
Beyond emotional. Beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
She felt him. Truly felt him—not his thoughts, but his essence. The steady pulse of his presence anchoring into her consciousness like a heartbeat she’d been missing her whole life.
She came crying his name. Wave after wave of release, her body clenching around him, drawing him over the edge with her. He buried his face in her neck and broke apart, a growl tearing from his throat as he pulsed inside her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Breathing. Feeling. The mate bond clicking into place with a rightness that made her want to weep.
Dahlia could sense him now—a GPS-like awareness of where he was, how he was. Not telepathy, nothing so dramatic. Knowing. Feeling him there at the edge of her consciousness like a presence she could reach for whenever she needed.
And underneath it all, a calm she felt all the way through—the kind she hadn’t known she was missing. The anxiety that had driven her for years—the need to be needed, the fear of being useless—had quieted. In its place: rest. Peace. Home.
“I can feel you.” The words barely carried. “Like you’re part of me now.”
Cal lifted his head, his features soft in a way she’d rarely seen. “You’ve been part of me since that first day. This makes it official.”