15. Poppy
FIFTEEN
POPPY
Poppy woke up to the scent of cedar and forest rain and the solid weight of an arm slung possessively over her waist. Morning light filtered through the tall windows of Keiro's bedroom at his family estate, catching on dust motes dancing in the air.
Her cheek was still pressed against the hard plane of his chest, her ear tuned to the steady beat of his heart while his heat enveloped her, forming a cocoon of safety and strength that seeped into her bones.
For a long, suspended moment, she simply existed.
I never want to leave this bed.
She wanted to seal the heavy oak door against the world, against Sander's scheming, against the elders' scrutiny, and against the ticking clock to prove their partnership worked.
Because here, in this private space that smelled of him, she wasn't Alpha Mintz carrying a collapsing empire.
She was just Poppy, warm and sated and cherished.
The reality of what waited outside that door—the raised eyebrows, the political friction of a lioness and a wolf, the inevitable questions—was a cold draft against the warmth he provided in this room.
She hadn't told her pride he was her fated mate.
The confession had stuck in her throat, not out of shame, but from an older, more stubborn fear.
What if this doesn't last?
After last night, she didn't really believe it anymore.
Lying here, with their hearts beating in a synchronized rhythm, she could feel them knitting together into a unit.
He didn't diminish her strength; he amplified it.
He saw the exhaustion she hid and called it resilience.
He validated the woman beneath the title, and that recognition mattered more to her than any elder's approval ever could.
She wasn't running anymore. She was choosing.
Choosing him, choosing the bond, choosing the exhilarating possibility of a life that wasn't about mere survival but about building something that thrived.
The thought was a sunrise in her chest, spreading warmth through every vein, and a wave of fierce joy broke over her.
The arm around her waist tightened, and a low, sleep-roughened voice vibrated against her ear. "Someone's in a good mood this morning."
She tilted her head back to find him already awake, watching her with those deep brown eyes and a soft smile playing on his lips that carved a devastating dimple in his cheek.
"I guess there's no hiding anything from you now," she said, her own voice soft. She traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. "I'm just… excited. To explore us. To spend time with you that doesn't involve spreadsheets or site surveys."
His smile widened, transforming his face from controlled Alpha to something approachable and breathtaking.
"I'm excited too. Dangerously so." He brushed his lips against her temple.
"But I do have to steal a few hours for the business today.
Need to go to the site and take photos for the contractors before they mobilize. "
A flicker of disappointment crossed her features, the wish for a lazy, tangled day in his sheets a palpable ache. But the practical Alpha in her understood. "Well, why don't I join you? If that's alright."
He nuzzled into the curve of her neck. "That's more than alright. I'd love your company. Plus, a second pair of eyes, especially yours, is always an asset."
The compliment, casual and sincere, warmed her further. "Alright then," she said, sitting up.
Her yellow sundress lay in a pool of fabric on the ornate rug beside the bed, a bright memory of the night before.
She slipped from the sheets and picked it up along with her panties, the fabric whispering against her skin as she pulled the clothes on with practiced efficiency.
But the simple act of dressing was laden with the ghost of his hands removing it.
The memory of his mouth on her and the feeling of him moving inside her washed over her with such visceral intensity that her knees almost buckled. She had to physically resist the urge to crawl back into the massive bed and demand a repeat performance.
A deep, knowing chuckle sounded behind her, and she automatically turned.
Keiro had risen from the bed, naked and unashamed, a study in masculine perfection.
The morning light carved the dense muscle of his shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen, and the faint scars that mapped a history of conflict.
His arousal was evident, a blatant and thrilling testament that her desire was not one-sided.
He closed the distance between them in two predatory strides. He didn't touch her, but his gaze was a physical caress. "The feeling," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated in her bones, "is clearly mutual. Maybe we'll have time later for some more… exploration."
He winked, a shockingly playful gesture from a man who commanded an entire pack of wolves and turned toward his walk-in closet.
Poppy stood frozen, a blush heating her cheeks.
There was no hiding from him. The mate bond was a live wire between them, humming with shared sensation.
Every spike of her desire, every flutter of her happiness, every shadow of her fear—it all flowed to him now.
But the realization didn't terrify her as it once would have.
It felt like being truly seen, known, and cherished in her entirety.
This man, this formidable wolf Alpha, was becoming her safe place. Her home.
Soon, her lioness purred. Soon we will let him mark us.
But not yet. The human part of her, the part forged in eleven years of solitary leadership, needed more time.
She needed to see how they fit together in the uncompromising light of day, outside the bedroom and beyond the partnership agreements.
She needed to be sure that when she took that final, irrevocable step, it was for a future she could believe in with her whole soul, not just her yearning heart.
Forty minutes later, the tires of Keiro's Bentley crunched to a halt on the gravel track that bordered their land. Poppy stepped out of the car, the air rich with the scent of damp earth, pine, and the wild promise of the woodland before them.
This was the place. The parcel of land that had been a symbol of her failure, now a cornerstone of their shared future.
Keiro came around the car, his phone already in his hand, his gaze sweeping the terrain with the analytical focus of a strategist and the appreciative eye of the architect he'd once dreamed of being.
"This is where the main lodge will anchor everything," he said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to belong to the landscape.
He began moving, snapping pictures with his phone—capturing the empty clearing framed by ancient oaks, the dappled sunlight on the forest floor, and the way the land sloped gently toward the distant sound of water. Poppy followed him, her boots whispering through the ferns.
As he worked, she didn't just see trees and dirt anymore.
She saw it. The lodge, built from stone and timber that echoed the forest, with wide windows drinking in the view.
Smaller cabins nestled in the trees, privacy and community in balance.
She heard the imagined sounds of laughter from a shared meal in the communal hall, the focused quiet of a strategy session in a meeting room, the powerful, rhythmic thuds of sparring in a purpose-built training yard.
Her vision from a week ago, born in a moment of desperate hope, solidified into a tangible, thrilling reality.
This land wasn't lost. It was waiting. For us.
"It's going to be revolutionary," she said, the words escaping. "Not just a retreat. A statement. A place where wolves and lions don't just tolerate each other's presence. They share it. They train in it. They build alliances over a campfire instead of across a battlefield."
Keiro lowered his phone, turning to look at her.
The controlled CEO was gone, replaced by a man whose eyes held the same fierce hope.
"And we'll keep most of this in its natural state," he said softly.
"The hiking trails will be the arteries.
The heart will be what we build. But the soul will always be this.
" He gestured to the dense woods around them, then he put his phone away. "I've got what the contractors need."
A restless energy, pure and primal, buzzed beneath Poppy's skin. The formalities were done. But her lioness pushed against her human constraints, wanting to taste the freedom of this place and to claim it in the most fundamental way.
A playful, daring impulse seized her. "Well, since the contractors have their pictures, why don't we give ourselves a little break? My lioness has been itching to run this land."
The gold in his deep brown eyes flared and a smile touched his lips. "My wolf wouldn't mind stretching his legs. Or keeping pace with a lioness."
Without another word, she reached for the hem of her yellow sundress.
The simple cotton slid over her head, and she let it fall to the mossy ground.
Then she hooked her thumbs into the lace of her panties and pushed them down, stepping free.
Naked before him in the dappled light, she felt utterly powerful, not vulnerable.
His gaze was a physical brand, darkening with a hunger that echoed through the mate bond straight to her core. The air between them crackled, thick with unsaid things.
Right here, right now, her body screamed.
But her lioness roared louder, demanding the run, the chase, the raw, animal connection to the earth and to him.
With a fluid grace that belied his size, he pulled the white henley over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest, the bandages from their fight gone, leaving only faint, silvery lines.
He toed off his boots, shoved down his jeans and boxers, and stood before her—a masterpiece of predatory strength, utterly unselfconscious, and her mouth went dry.
Later, she promised herself, and her beast.
She took a step back as the shift began, a cascade of sensation that was both rupture and homecoming.
Bones realigned with a series of pops and cracks that were not pain but profound release.
Muscle fiber wove into new, powerful patterns.
Then her senses exploded—the scent of the soil multiplied a hundredfold, the rustle of a mouse in the underbrush sounded like thunder, and the very air currents told stories.
When the world settled, she stood on four massive paws, a tawny-gold lioness with blue-gold eyes.
She turned her head to watch him. His transformation was a study in controlled violence.
Where a man had stood, soon a void of black fur and dense muscle coalesced.
He was enormous, a wolf of legend, with a heavy, intelligent head and molten gold eyes that found hers instantly.
Power radiated from him in a silent, palpable wave.
Her lioness paced forward, drawn to that dark power.
She ducked her head, rubbing her muzzle along the thick, warm fur of his neck in a gesture of deep affection and trust. His wolf responded in kind, nuzzling against her shoulder, his breath a warm huff against her coat. It was simple. Profound. Natural.
This is us.
A surge of pure, unfettered joy shot through her. Then she bunched her powerful haunches and launched herself away from him, a flash of gold through the green. A playful invitation and a challenge.
He was after her in an instant, a black shadow flowing over the ground with terrifying speed. He was faster, but she was agile, ducking between trees, leaping over fallen logs, her heart pounding with exhilaration, not fear.
For an hour, they were not Alphas with burdens.
They were beasts in a paradise they owned, chasing and being chased, their playful growls and rumbles weaving through the trees.
They explored every ridge and hollow, drank from the clear, cold stream, and finally came to a stop at the base of the small, cascading waterfall they'd stood at just a week ago as humans.
Now, as animals, the place felt sacred. The mist kissed their fur.
The roar of the water was a primal song.
He stepped close to her again, and she leaned her full weight into his solid side, his warmth a fortress against the world.
Her lioness purred, a deep, contented rumble that vibrated through her entire being.
In this place, with his wolf beside her, she finally understood.
This is the life I can have. Not just duty, not just survival. This freedom. This shared strength. This peace.
Together, they could have it all—the responsibility and the rest, the leadership and the life. They could give each other balance. They could have a life filled with love, happiness, and purpose.
A soft whine escaped his wolf, and he nudged her gently, then turned back the way they'd come. Duty called. Politics simmered. The ninety-day clock still ticked.
She huffed and fell into step beside him, their shoulders brushing as they moved through the woods. The future they'd just tasted wasn't here yet. But it was coming. And she would fight like hell to claim it.