Chapter 24
Hadley
My heart is pounding furiously inside my chest, and my she-Bear?
Oh, she’s wide awake.
Watching through my eyes.
Alert.
Certain.
Like she’s been waiting for this moment longer than I have—and making damn sure I don’t mess it up.
She doesn’t have to worry.
I won’t.
Not this time.
Not with him.
We’re both completely bare now, nothing left between us, no walls, no barriers—just skin and heat and breath. And Rob is kissing me like his life depends on it.
And Gods help me—I know mine does.
Because this?
This isn’t just desire.
It’s not just want.
It’s something deeper.
Something that feels like standing on the edge of a cliff and realizing you were meant to fly.
The air around us is thick—heavy with the scent of him, of me, of something new being created between us. Honey and heat and wild, untamed need.
It clings to my skin.
Wraps around us.
Marks this moment as something I’ll never forget.
His house—our house, a voice in the back of my mind corrects—is beautiful. Strong. Rebuilt with care and intention, just like him.
Every detail feels solid.
Safe.
Like something meant to last.
And that thought—that dangerous, hopeful thought—sends a quiet thrill through me.
Because I’m already imagining it.
I’m already picturing me here.
Lazy Sunday afternoons where we make brunch and lounge in the yard together
Hectic weekday mornings where coffee is filled into travel cups and kisses are shared before we jump in our cars and go off to work.
Meal prep and daily dinners we make together.
And nights—oh yes—nights just like this where we couldn’t stop ourselves from coming together any more than we can right now.
I picture a life that somehow includes both of us.
I shouldn’t.
It’s too fast.
Too much.
But I can’t stop it.
Because standing here, wrapped up in him, feeling the way he looks at me like I’m the center of his world?
It doesn’t feel reckless.
It feels right.
Fated. Chosen. Both.
I breathe him in, my hands sliding over him, memorizing, grounding myself in this moment before it slips away.
“Rob,” I whisper, my voice softer now, but steadier than before.
His answer is immediate.
A low rumble.
A promise.
A claim waiting just beneath the surface.
And I lean into it.
Into him.
His strength. His vow.
I lean into us.
Because this time?
I’m not holding back.
Rob’s big hands cradle me as he lays us both down on the soft rug in front of the fireplace.
It’s not on right now, and that’s fine. It is Spring after all, but I can almost picture us here on another night with it glowing.
Sunshine is spilling in from the windows, and I moan as his lips coast along my breasts, my belly, and my hips.
“Gods, you’re so damn pretty. I love the fact you're natural here, not shaved or waxed bare,” he murmurs and drops a kiss on my pussy before lifting his gaze to mine.
The glow in his eyes tells me he means it. I lick my lips, and he presses my thighs, making room for his broad shoulders.
I used to worry about my appearance a whole lot. Used to fret over my dimples and stretch marks, my lack of love for waxing and shaving those parts of me only a very privileged few have ever seen.
But Rob has seen all of me, and he makes me feel beautiful. Loved. Worshipped.
“So pretty,” he growls and takes a long lick of my sex from my asshole to my clit.
I gasp, holding on to his thick, glossy hair as he continues to use his tongue and lips—and oh my fuck, is that a fang?
My inner Sow rises up—the Bear in me is so ready for his dominance display it isn’t even funny.
“That’s it, Cookie. Soak this slit for me. Get nice and wet so I can claim you good. So I can give you my mark and fill you with my cum,” he growls, and I can’t help myself.
I do.
Fluid rushes between my thighs, and Rob growls as he pushes two thick digits into my sheath, curling them just right so he finds my G-spot unerringly.
It’s almost embarrassing how ready I am for him. How quickly I’m going to come.
But I’m not embarrassed. I feel proud. Sexy. So damn hot and needy for him.
He growls against my clit, pumps those fingers in and out—once, twice—and that’s it. I go off like a rocket.
Rob moves swiftly, rolling me over so I’m on all fours. He lifts my hips, presses down on my back.
“Ready, Cookie?”
I make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan as he fills me in one hard, deep thrust.
Then he cages me in and pounds into me—and it’s so good. So fucking perfect.
“So tight. So fucking hot,” he growls, and I feel his warm breath against my ear—on my neck as he licks and kisses this one spot over and over again—and I know that’s it.
The place he’ll mark me.
Anticipation blossoms inside of me and a familiar tightness warms my belly. He reaches around my belly, finding my clit with his fingers.
“Rob! Oh Gods,” I moan as he slides them through my slick and rubs my tight little nubbin in unforgiving circles.
He pumps harder, fucking me in long strokes, hitting that perfect spot each time.
“That’s it, Cookie. Squeeze my cock. Come for me. Show me you’re mine,” he commands.
And just as my thoughts begin to scatter—too many feelings, too much everything—he moves.
Not fast.
Not rough.
But inevitable.
His mouth finds my neck, and for a split second I think he’s going to kiss me again—then I feel it.
A sharp, sacred sting.
His fangs break the surface of my skin.
And the world—the whole universe shatters into light.
It isn’t pain.
Not really.
It’s heat.
White-hot, all-consuming, flooding through me like liquid fire as he seals his mouth over the mark and draws blood from the wound—sealing our bond.
My vision goes bright.
Blinding.
My body arches into him, a sound tearing free from my throat that I don’t recognize as my own.
Because this?
This isn’t just physical.
This is something deeper.
Something ancient.
I feel it the moment it happens—the shift.
The matebond. Our matebond.
It sparks at the point of contact, then spreads—through my veins, through my chest, through my very soul.
Like something dormant inside me just woke up and recognized him.
Mine.
My Bear surges forward, no hesitation now.
No fear.
No doubt.
And I answer.
My hands curl, claws slipping free as instinct takes over—not wild, not out of control, but guided. Intentional. Right.
I turn my head, finding him the same way he found me, my teeth breaking his skin in a mirrored claim.
The taste of him—warm, rich, unmistakably his—sends another wave through me, deeper this time, anchoring us together.
Binding.
Sealing.
I feel it.
The moment it locks.
Not like chains.
Like threads.
Glowing, golden, weaving between us—heart to heart, breath to breath—wrapping tighter with every second until there’s no separating where I end and he begins.
A communion.
A joining.
Not just bodies—souls.
I drag my claws lightly over his shoulder, marking him, claiming him back, and he answers with a roar that shakes through both of us.
Not anger.
Not dominance.
Recognition.
Completion.
The matebond pulses.
Bright.
Alive.
And suddenly—I can feel him.
Not just his body.
Him. Tiger. Man.
His emotion—raw, fierce, overwhelming—crashes into me like a wave.
Relief.
Possession.
Love.
Gods—so much love.
It steals the air from my lungs.
Because it’s not just mine.
It’s his.
And it’s mine now too.
Shared.
Echoing.
Endless.
“Mine,” he breathes against my skin.
The word vibrates through me, not as a demand—but as a promise.
A truth.
I turn my face toward him, my lips brushing his, my voice softer—but no less certain.
“Yours.”
The bond flares at that.
Brighter.
Stronger.
As if the words themselves seal it.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze searching, grounding, making sure I’m still here.
Still me.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs.
But I don’t think I could even if I tried.
Because I’m wrapped up in him.
In us.
In this impossible, overwhelming, right thing that just happened.
He tends to me gently, his touch reverent now, careful, like I’m something precious instead of something he just claimed.
And when he gathers me into his arms?
Holding me close, steady, unyielding—I don’t feel lost.
I don’t feel overwhelmed.
I feel found.
Like every broken piece of me just slid into place.
Like I finally understand what my Bear has been trying to tell me all along.
This wasn’t something to fear.
This wasn’t something to run from.
This was always meant to be.
“I love you, Mate,” Rob whispers, cradling me close.
“I love you right back,” I say just as sleep pulls me under.