21. Lena #2
I pulled at his clothes instead, needing to feel his skin against mine.
He helped me, shedding his shirt, his trousers, until we were both bare in the moonlight.
His body was a map I knew now, the hard planes of muscle, the black patterns that wound down his arms, the scars that told stories he was only beginning to share with me.
I traced the claw marks across his ribs, the punishment he had taken for caring about me, and he went still under my touch.
“These are because of me,” I said quietly.
“These are because of me,” he corrected. “Because I made the choice to protect you. I would make it again.”
When the feral look surfaced in his gaze, I did not flinch. I touched the sound of his growl, pressing my palm over his heart where the beast lived beneath his skin.
“Both of you,” I whispered. “I want both of you.”
He went very still.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking for.” I traced my fingers along his spine, where I knew fur would grow when he shifted. Down his shoulders, his jaw. The places where the man ended and the beast began. “I accepted this. I accepted you. All of you.”
When he spoke, his voice was rougher than before. More animal. “The wolf wants things I’m not ready to give you.”
The claiming bite. I knew. He had told me about it after the reveal, about the bond it would create, about his father and his fear. I did not push.
“Then give me what you’re ready to give.” I pulled him down to me. “And trust me to wait for the rest.”
He made a sound that was half growl, half groan, and then his mouth was on mine and his body was covering mine and I stopped thinking at all.
His hand slid between my thighs, finding me wet and ready. When his fingers parted me, stroking through my slickness, I moaned against his mouth.
“You’re soaked,” he breathed. “For me.”
“For you.” I spread my legs wider, giving him access. “Only for you.”
He worked me with his fingers, learning what made me gasp and arch and grip his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
This was different from the angry encounters, the rushed releases.
He was paying attention. Memorizing. When he slid two fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that made my vision blur, I cried out his name.
“Raphael.”
“Again.” He pumped his fingers with unhurried intent. “Say it again.”
“Raphael.” It fell from my lips like a prayer, like a promise. “Please.”
He positioned himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. His eyes held mine as he pushed inside, slow and deep, filling me in a way that made my back bow off the mattress.
The intimacy that followed was unlike anything we had shared before. Not angry. Not performative. Present in a way that made my chest tight with emotions I was not ready to name. I kept my eyes open, looking at him, letting him look at me. Vulnerable in a way I had never allowed myself to be.
He moved inside me, long slow strokes that built the tension like a tide. His growl rumbled in his chest and I pressed my hand against it, welcoming the sound. The wolf was part of him. I would not ask him to hide it.
“Raphael.” His name again, falling from my lips like each thrust pulled it from me.
He buried his face in my neck and breathed deep, scenting me, his fangs scraping against my skin. Not breaking it. Not claiming. Just close. The intimacy of his restraint stole my breath.
“Tell me I can have this,” he said against my throat. “Tell me this is real.”
“It’s real.” I wrapped my arms around him, holding him against me. “I’m here. I’m choosing to be here.”
His pace increased, and I matched him, lifting my hips to meet each thrust. The tension building between us was different from before. Not just physical. Emotional. Connected. I could feel him everywhere, inside me, around me, his scent filling my lungs, his heat soaking into my skin.
When I finally came apart, it was with his name on my lips and his eyes locked on mine.
The pleasure crashed through me in waves, and I watched his control shatter.
His eyes blazed fully amber as he swelled inside of me and followed me over the edge, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged.
The wolf was so close to the surface I could almost see the shimmer of fur under his skin.
But he did not lose control. He did not become his father.
We lay tangled together in the aftermath, and I did not pull away. Did not make an excuse to leave. Tonight, I let myself stay.
His arm curled around my waist, his fingers tracing patterns on my hip. His scent surrounded me, warm and rich and dark, layered with the musk of sex and satisfaction. It should have been strange, lying here without the shield of anger. Instead it was like coming home.
“What changed?” he asked quietly. “Tonight. What made you stop fighting?”
The gala. Watching him refuse his Alpha. The way he had told me the truth when he could have lied.
“You chose me,” I said. “Over your pack. Over your own standing. He wanted my father’s files and you refused him.” I turned my head to look at him. “No one has ever chosen me like that.”
His expression was raw. Unguarded. “I would do it again.”
“I know.”
I did know. That was what had changed. I finally believed him.
My gaze caught on something across the room. The dresser near the window, where he kept small personal items. A watch. Cufflinks.
The collar.
My collar. The one he had put on me during the contract, the one he had removed so cruelly during the rejection. He should have thrown it away. But there it sat, the silver chain catching the dim light.
He had kept it.
I slipped out of his arms before I could second-guess myself.
Crossed the room naked, aware of his eyes tracking every step.
Picked up the collar, the familiar weight settling in my hands.
The silver was still shiny, the diamond studded ring still sparkling.
Like he had been maintaining it. Waiting.
“Lena.” His voice was careful. “You don’t have to.”
I turned to face him. He was propped up on one elbow, watching me with an expression I could read now that I knew him better. Hope, barely restrained. And fear that the hope would be crushed.
I lifted the collar and fastened it around my own throat.
The click of the clasp was loud in the silence. The cold chain settled against my skin, becoming warm with my body heat. My fingers adjusted it, centering the clasp at the back of my neck, and I looked at him.
“The ring was forced on me,” I said. “This is my choice.”
His sharp intake of breath filled the room. For a long moment, he did not move.
Then he was out of the bed and crossing to me, pulling me against him, his hands cupping my face.
“Lena.” My name was reverent. Shattered. “Do you understand what that means to me?”
“I think so.” I covered his hands with mine. “The ring was your obligation. The contract was your revenge. But this…” I touched the collar at my throat. “This is me saying I want to be yours. Not because I have to. Because I choose to.”
He kissed me. Deep and desperate and full of a tenderness that undid me more than any passion could.
When he finally pulled back, he lifted me in his arms and carried me back to bed. The collar pressed warm against my throat as he settled me against the pillows. His hand came up to touch it, tracing the chain with fingers that trembled slightly.
“You kept it,” I said.
“I couldn’t let it go.” His voice was rough. “Even when I told myself you would never forgive me. Even when I thought I had destroyed everything. I kept it because it meant you were mine, even when you weren’t.”
“I am now.”
He pulled me close, and I let myself be held.
I love him, I thought as sleep began to pull me under. The words surfaced without permission, without defense. The man and the wolf. Both sides. I love him.
I did not say it out loud. Not yet. But I knew it now.
His voice was soft in the darkness, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”
Maybe we’ll earn each other, I thought.
I fell asleep with his arms around me, the collar warm against my throat. For the first time since my father died, I was not afraid of what morning would bring.