Chapter Twelve
Boone
The walk back to the cabin is silent.
Not the bad kind. Not the loaded kind. The kind of silence that comes after a war ends and the soldiers are too spent to celebrate.
Wren walks beside me, barefoot, wearing my jacket and nothing else, her hair matted with dirt and blood that isn’t hers.
The claiming mark on her throat is dark against her skin.
Her knuckles are scraped. Her shoulders are steady.
She took down a wolf twice her size and left him broken in the dirt.
My mate.
The bond hums between us, still buzzing from the fight, from the adrenaline, from the raw animal violence of watching her shift and defend what belongs to her. Defend me.
No one has ever done that.
No one has ever fought for me.
I open the cabin door and she steps inside, and the familiar warmth wraps around us. Home. Ours.
She stands in the middle of the room, looking lost. The jacket hangs off her shoulders. Blood streaks her arms and dirt smudges her cheek. She looks like a warrior who just walked off a battlefield and doesn’t know what to do with her hands.
“Shower,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“You’re covered in blood and dirt. Shower.”
“Oh.” She looks down at herself like she’s seeing the mess for the first time. “Right.”
I take her hand and lead her down the hall. The bathroom is small, barely enough room for one person, let alone two. But I’m not letting her out of my sight. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I turn on the water, and steam fills the space, fogging the mirror.
Wren stands beside me, quiet, watching me with those dark eyes.
I peel the jacket off her shoulders and let it drop.
She’s naked underneath. Bruises are blooming on her hips from the shift and a shallow cut scores her ribcage.
But the claiming mark on her throat is vivid.
I kneel and her breath catches. “Boone, what...”
“Hold still.”
I start with her feet. Lifting one, then the other, rinsing the dirt from her soles. My hands cup her ankles and my thumbs trace the bones. She trembles but doesn’t pull away.
I stand and reach past her for the soap. Work it between my palms until lather builds, then lay my hands on her shoulders. She shivers.
“Easy,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
“I know. Let me do this.”
I wash her, slowly, methodically. Down her arms, lifting each one, cleaning the blood from her skin. Across her collarbone. Over the claiming mark. She inhales sharply when my fingers brush it, and the bond flares.
“You were incredible today,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I just...”
“You shifted to protect me. You fought a male twice your size and won.” My hands slide down her ribs, careful around the cut. “You left him alive. That took more control than killing him would have.”
Her jaw tightens. “I wanted to kill him.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to tear his throat out.”
“I know.”
“But I didn’t. Because that would make me like him.”
My hands stall on her waist. The water runs over us both. Steam curls around her face. She looks wrecked and fierce and beautiful.
“No,” I say. “It wouldn’t.”
“It would have.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re better than him.”
Her eyes fill. She blinks, and the tears don’t fall. She holds them. My brave, impossible mate.
I keep washing. Down her stomach. Over her hips. Along the bruise on her left side. She flinches when I press too hard, and I ease up.
My emotions are a wreck. The fight. The fear. Watching Dax launch at me and seeing Wren’s wolf explode out of her before I could react. The sound of her jaws crushing bone. The sight of her standing over him, naked and bloodied, daring him to move.
I’m shaking.
My wolf is pacing, wild and unmoored, caught between pride and terror and a need so savage it scrapes my insides raw.
I want her. Not gently. Not carefully. I want her so badly my teeth ache.
But she’s hurt. She’s bruised and she’s been through hell.
I wash her hair, working the soap through the tangled strands. She leans into my hands. The bond pulses with something warm.
“You’re holding back,” she says.
I pause. “You’re injured.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have a cut on your ribs,” I point out like she doesn’t know her own body.
“It’s shallow.”
“You’re bruised.” I point out the obvious once more.
“I heal fast.”
“Wren...”
She turns to face me. Water streams between us. Her eyes are dark, steady, and certain.
“I can feel you through the bond,” she says. “You’re barely holding it together.”
She’s right. I’m barely holding it together. My wolf is tearing at my insides, desperate, feral, fed by the adrenaline still crashing through my system.
“If I lose control...” I start.
“Then you lose control.”
“I could hurt you.” The words are soft, coated in fear.
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
She lifts her hand and presses it flat against my chest. My heart slams against her palm.
“I just fought off a wolf who tried to kill my mate,” she says. “I think I can handle you wanting me too hard.”
My jaw clenches and my hands curl into fists at my sides. She watches me. Studies me. Then she drops to her knees. The sound of her knees hitting the tile shoots through me. Water streams over her face, her shoulders, her bare breasts. She looks up at me through the spray.
“Wren.”
“Let me.”
Her hands find my waist. Her fingers hook into my boxers, the ones I haven’t taken off yet, and drag them down. My cock is hard. Has been since the fight. Since before the fight. Since the moment she shifted and became something wild and terrifying and mine.
She wraps her hand around my length and I stop breathing. “Tell me you want this,” she says.
“I want this. Goddess knows I do.”
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you. I always want you. It’s driving me insane.”
Her mouth closes over the tip and my hand slams against the tile wall. The crack echoes through the bathroom. She takes me deeper. Slowly. Inch by inch. Her tongue traces the underside, and my hips jerk forward before I can stop them.
She doesn’t pull back. She takes it. Her throat opens, and she swallows me down until her nose presses against my stomach.
“Fuck.” The word tears out of me.
She pulls back, licks her lips, and looks up at me with those dark, devastating eyes.
“You taste like mine,” she says.
I snap and my hand fists in her hair. She moans as I thrust into her mouth. Not gentle. Not careful. The last threads of my control burn away. She takes everything I give her, her hands gripping my thighs, her throat working around me.
“Good,” I growl. “Take it. All of it.”
She does. Her eyes water, but she doesn’t stop. Her tongue works me with every thrust, and the bond blazes with her want. She’s enjoying this. She’s wet. I can smell it through the steam.
“I’m going to come,” I say. “If you don’t stop...”
She doesn’t stop and I come with a snarl. My hand tightens in her hair. My hips lock, and she swallows every drop, her throat milking me until my legs shake.
She pulls back, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and looks up at me, satisfied.
“My turn,” I say.
I shut off the water, grab a towel, and wrap it around her. Then I lift her off her feet and carry her to the bedroom.
She laughs. “Boone...”
“You started this.”
I drop her on the bed and the towel falls open. She’s naked, wet, and flushed. The claiming mark on her throat catches the afternoon light and I growl lowly. She reaches for me and I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head.
“Stay.”
I settle between her thighs. She’s slick. Ready. The scent of her hits me, and my wolf snarls with hunger.
“You want this?” I ask, stroking my already hardening cock. “I’ve been wanting this since the clearing. Since I watched you not flinch when Dax came for you.”
“You’re all I’ll ever want.”
I surge into her and she screams. Not in pain, in relief. Her back arches off the bed and her wrists strain against my grip but I don’t let go.
“Mine,” I say.
“Yours...”
“Mine. Say it.”
“Yours. Yours. Yours.”
I fuck her. There’s no other word for it. Hard. Deep. Relentless. The bed frame slams the wall. She wraps her legs around me, digging her heels into my back, pulling me deeper.
“More,” she gasps.
I release her wrists, grab her hips, and flip her. Her face hits the pillow and I drag her up onto her knees and drive back in. She screams my name.
“That’s it.” My hand fists in her hair. “Scream for me.”
“Boone!”
“Louder.”
She does. The sound fills the cabin and my wolf howls with it. The bond blazes and I feel her orgasm building, feel the tension coiling through her body.
“Come for me,” I say. “Now.”
She shatters, her whole body clenches, and she sobs into the pillow. I don’t stop. I chase her over the edge, thrusting through her release until my own hits me.
It rips through me. Violent. Absolute. I bury myself to the hilt and come with a sound that isn’t human. My teeth find the claiming mark and I bite down. She screams again, a second orgasm flowing through her as the bond detonates in and around us.
Everything else disappears.
I collapse beside her. We’re both gasping. Sweating. Wrecked. The sheets are ruined and the pillow is damp. But neither of us moves.
After a long time, she rolls onto her side and looks at me. Her eyes are soft, sated, happy.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
“We broke your bed.”
I glance at the frame. One corner has separated and the mattress is half off. “I’ll fix it.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“Days. Weeks. I’m not moving for the foreseeable future.”
She laughs and the sound fills the room. Fills me. I pull her against my chest. She tucks her head under my chin. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin and the bond settles into something warm and steady.
“Boone?”
“Hmm.”
“I love you.”
The words hit me like a punch. My chest cracks open and my wolf goes silent.
I press my mouth to her hair. “I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you since the gate. Since you grabbed my hand and called me darling and set my entire life on fire.”
She smiles against my chest. “That sounds like something I’d do.”
“It does.”
“Boone?”
“Hmm.”
“We need curtains.”
I close my eyes. “No.”
“And cushions.”
“Absolutely not.”
“And a bigger bed.”
I open one eye. Look at the broken frame. Look at her. “Maybe a bigger bed,” I say and she grins.
Outside, the sun sets over Katu territory and the forest darkens. Here, in this cabin, my mate lies in my arms. Claimed. Chosen. Free. She chose me. I didn’t force her. I didn’t trick her. I didn’t sign a contract or make threats or put my hand on her throat.
I asked and she said yes.
The End