10. Daria
Ten
Daria
I've just learned Werewolves are real.
Actual.
Honest-to-God.
Shift-into-a-giant-Wolf Werewolves.
Which, if I'm being honest, opens the door to about a million questions.
Do Vampires exist?
Mermaids?
Dragons?
Please tell me Zombies aren't real.
Because if I survive today's emotional roller coaster only to find out there's a Zombie apocalypse on the schedule next week, I might actually lose my mind.
But...
None of those questions matter right now.
Because the big, sexy, tattooed man I spent all night talking to and kissing on the beach is standing in my living room looking at me like I'm the answer to every prayer he's ever whispered.
And he's kissing the heck out of me.
Can you say swoon?
Our lips meet, and it's like the world simply falls away.
Everything else disappears.
The impossible.
The fear.
The questions.
The tears.
They all melt beneath the warmth of his mouth on mine.
A storm crashes through me.
Emotion after emotion pours into my heart so quickly I can barely separate one from another.
Some of them are mine.
Relief.
Wonder.
Hope.
But others...
Others feel bigger.
Older.
Deeper.
Like they're coming from him.
Love.
Gratitude.
Devotion so absolute it steals the breath from my lungs.
I break the kiss just enough to look at him.
“Rand...”
His forehead rests against mine.
“I know.”
“No...”
I cup his face, overwhelmed by everything pouring through me.
“I can feel you.”
His moss-green eyes soften.
“You can?”
I nod, tears threatening all over again.
“I don't know how to explain it.”
He smiles gently.
“You don't have to.”
“It feels like...”
I press a hand over my chest.
“... your heart is talking to mine.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“That's exactly what it feels like.”
I don't know whether it's magic.
Whether it's this mysterious mating bond.
Or whether I'm simply falling for the most extraordinary man I've ever met.
Maybe it's all three.
His chest rumbles with another of those delicious growls that seem to vibrate straight through me.
Instead of frightening me now they comfort me.
The sound wraps around me like a promise.
Like coming home.
His hands find the hem of my top, his movements slow, giving me every opportunity to stop him if I choose.
His eyes never leave mine.
Never once.
They're searching my face.
Asking.
Waiting.
Trusting me to tell him no if that's what I want.
I don't.
I can't remember ever wanting anything more.
His growl is deep and sexy as hell as it pulls my shirt over my head. and I’ve never felt more confident.
More seen.
I gasp, eyes wide and desperate for him to continue. Good thing I don’t have to wait long.
Next, he takes off my pants and holy hell, by the time he gets my underwear off I am panting for him.
But somehow, even now, this doesn't feel rushed.
It feels inevitable.
Like we've been walking toward this moment our entire lives.
And I’m no blushing virgin. I am plenty old enough to know what sex is and to acknowledge when I want a man.
But wanting Rand is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
It’s like he’s attuned to my body, to my wants and needs. The way he touches me? It’s like magic.
I feel alive.
I feel special. Seen. Desired.
And that’s new. It’s addictive.
I whimper as his lips leave trails down my neck, and the valley between my breasts.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he groans and sucks one nipple into his mouth.
I arch into him, gasping as his lips and teeth and tongue do magnificent things to me.
Rand raises his head. His moss green eyes are glowing gold with his Wolf, and shivers run through me at the sincerity in his expression.
“You still have time to change your mind,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
I laugh softly.
“You've said that at least three times.”
I run my fingers through his long hair.
“I'll say it a hundred more if I have to.”
“Why?” I ask.
And it’s because I want to know, not because I’m changing my mind.
“Because I never want you wondering whether or not you had a choice.”
Oh.
Oh, that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
And if I wasn’t halfway in love with him before, I sure as fuck am now.
I smile up at him.
“I have a choice.”
“You do.”
“And Rand? I'm choosing you.”
His eyes close briefly, as if my words physically undo him.
When he opens them again, they're bright with emotion.
“You have no idea what that means to me.”
“Then tell me. Show me.”
He brushes a strand of my long blonde hair behind my ear.
“It means I get to spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice.”
My heart melts.
Not because he's impossibly handsome.
Not because he kisses like every fantasy I've ever had wrapped into one gorgeous biker.
But because underneath all that strength is a man who wants nothing more than to love me well.
And after all these years of wondering if forever had simply passed me by, I find myself believing the impossible.
Maybe magic is real.
Maybe destiny exists.
Maybe monsters aren't the things we should fear.
Maybe—sometimes—they're exactly what we've been searching for all along.