Chapter 9
NINE
Fern
I wake up feeling happy. Not startled, not afraid, not braced for impact or shouting or chaos.
Just… happy.
It’s such a foreign feeling, and I’m a little emotional as I replay everything that’s happened in the last few days, everything that happened last night. Jameson has given me something I never thought I’d have. He’s given me a partner. He’s given me power and control and… freedom.
For a moment, I lie there in the unfamiliar stillness, wrapped in warmth that isn’t just blankets; it’s arms. Strong ones. Secure ones. A slow, steady heartbeat beneath my cheek that’s the safest sound I’ve ever known.
Jameson.
Memory rolls over me in a soft rush—heat, choice, control, the full moon glow filtering through the windows long after midnight. The way he looked at me like I wasn’t something to be owned or traded or taken but chosen.
He stirs beside me and nuzzles my neck, slow and gentle. “Good morning, mate,” he murmurs against my skin. “What do you want to do today?”
And just like that, I burst into tears.
Big, ugly, hiccupping ones.
I’m so embarrassed by my outburst, and it’s made worse when Jameson jolts upright instantly, panic flashing across his face. “Fern—hey—what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you—”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, trying to swipe at my face. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
He cups my face carefully, thumbs brushing away tears like they matter. Like I matter.
“I’ve just never felt like this before,” I whisper. “So… light. So safe. It feels like I can finally breathe.”
Something raw and aching passes over his expression.
“If I get my way,” he says quietly, pressing his forehead to mine, “you’ll always feel like this.”
The last of my tears fade as he kisses me, slow, deep, full. It’s not urgent this time. It’s tender. Reverent. Like he’s showing me instead of telling me.
My body heats, and I want him. No, I need him.
“Make love to me,” I say.
He growls as he rolls me under him and cages me in with his arms.
“How do you want it?” he asks, giving me control.
“I… I don’t know. I’ve only ever done it the one time,” I admit.
He smiles softly. “Me too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I told you. Shifters have fated mates. We only ever want them. I will only ever want you. Only you.”
“Have you… thought about sex before?”
He nods. “Yeah. A bit.”
“What did you think about?”
“It was more what you would look like or how it would feel to have my fated mate than, like, positions.”
“Well, what position do you want to try next? We can learn what we like together.”
He smiles. “Whatever you want.”
I nod and push on his shoulder until he rolls over. Climbing on top of him, I straddle his thighs. My bravery from a moment ago fades a bit when I look down at his cock.
“Jesus. It’s hard to believe that fit inside me,” I mutter.
Jameson lets out a startled laugh. “We’re made for each other,” he reminds me.
I scoot down his legs and lie on my stomach between them. His cock bobs in front of my face, and I lick my lips as I reach up, wrapping my hand around his length.
Or trying to.
My fingers don’t quite touch, but Jameson doesn’t seem to mind. A drop of liquid appears on the tip of his dick, and I lean forward, licking it up with my tongue.
“Oh, FUCK!” he shouts. “Goddamn, Fern. Mate.”
He’s breathing hard already, and I’ve barely touched him. Seeing his reaction to me makes me bold and confident.
I lean forward more and wrap my lips around the head of his cock. His hands fist the sheets, and I hum as I lick and suck my way down his length. I can only take a few inches, so I use my hand for the rest.
His hands tighten in the sheets, and his thighs tense on either side of me.
“Fuck, Fern! You’re way too good at that, but I need to make you come.”
I suck harder on his cock, and he growls as he sits up, reaching for me. He drags me up his body, and I straddle his hips before he can roll me under him.
“I want to be on top this time.”
He looks intense as I reach between us, gripping his cock and lining him up with my opening. I lock eyes with him as I slowly sink onto his cock. We both moan as I buck my hips, taking more of him. I grind against him and gasp as he bottoms out inside me.
“It’s so deep like this,” I groan.
His jaw pops as he holds himself back. Gripping my hips, he helps me as I ride him. We move slowly, taking our time, savoring every moment.
Our bodies come together over and over again. Jameson’s hands are all over me, smoothing up my spine, cupping my breasts, gripping my hips. His tongue slides down my neck, and I cry out when he licks the bite mark he left on me last night.
“I’m close,” I gasp.
His grip tightens. He kisses me, his fingers tangling in my hair as we rock, straining to reach our peaks.
“Fern,” he growls. “Mate.”
Hearing him call me that is what does it. I tense as I come, grinding and writhing on top of him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters as he spills inside me.
“I like that position,” Jameson pants as I collapse onto his chest.
I giggle, snuggling closer.
“Me too.”
We lie tangled together, limbs everywhere, hearts still racing. I feel like I’m floating as I lie sprawled on top of him.
This is the best day of my life. It couldn’t get better.
“I love you,” he says quietly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
I stand corrected. It can get better.
The words land in my chest and bloom there. I don’t have to think about my response. The words are just there.
“I love you too.”
He kisses me again, then he sighs as he sits up. “I need to feed you. You didn’t eat enough yesterday.”
“I think that’s okay,” I say, patting my stomach as I laugh self-deprecatingly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a frown.
“Just that I could stand to skip a few meals,” I tell him hesitantly.
“No, you can’t. You’re perfect. I love your curves. I don’t want you to lose them.”
I don’t have any words for that. I don’t need them.
Jameson picks me up and carries me into the living room. He drops one of his shirts over my head, and I curl up on the couch as he goes to the kitchen to make breakfast.
I relax as he cooks for us, and a few minutes later, he’s back with two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon.
“Here you go, mate,” he says, handing me a plate.
“Thanks. What are you doing today?”
“Hanging out with you. I need to check in with the guys, but hopefully, that won’t take long. What do you want to do?”
“I need to check in with Roxie. She’s supposed to be headed this way today or tomorrow.”
“Good. We can get the spare room set up for her.”
“Spare room? Why wasn’t I sleeping in that room so you could have your bed?” I ask him incredulously.
“I wanted you in our bed. And I wanted you to feel safe. I figured my sleeping on the couch would do that.”
“It did.”
He smiles, leaning over to kiss me.
“Call your friend. I’ll clean up,” he says, taking my plate and heading into the kitchen.
I smile as I watch him go, then grab his phone and call Roxie. I’m anxious to find out how close she is.
I call her number. Straight to voicemail.
That’s fine, I think. She probably stopped for food or fell asleep somewhere.
Hours pass.
Jameson and I fix up the guest room and cuddle on the couch. We talk. We rest. We laugh and make love again. It feels nice. Normal. The tension that once knotted my shoulders slowly fades into something I barely recognize as peace, but as the afternoon stretches on, unease creeps in.
I call Roxie again.
Voicemail. Again.
Nothing.
“She would’ve called by now,” I whisper.
Jameson watches me carefully. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just… have a bad feeling. It’s not like her to ignore my calls or not call me back.”
“Maybe she’s driving,” he suggests.
The light outside shifts toward evening, and the happy glow inside my chest dims with every unanswered call.
Something is wrong.
I can feel it.
And I’m about to find out just how bad it is.