Chapter 11 #2
"Never." His voice hardens with absolute conviction. "You aren't under my authority. You don't bow to pack hierarchy. You're my mate, Maisie. My equal. You can yell at me, lock me out of the bedroom, tell me no whenever you want."
"And the mark itself?"
He reaches across the table, his warm thumb brushing the soft junction where my neck meets my shoulder. A jolt of pure electricity shoots straight down my spine and settles between my thighs.
"Right here," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "My fangs break the skin, my venom seals it, and the scar stays forever. It'll ache for a day, but the bite itself won't hurt the way you think. It's heat, Maisie. It's giving the bond somewhere to land."
My breath catches. The restaurant noise fades to nothing. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's go home."
The second the door to his apartment clicks shut, the atmosphere shifts.
Outside the living room window, the full moon clears the tree line. Silvery light pours across the floorboards, and Boone stops dead in the center of the room. I watch his shoulders drop. His breathing deepens—harsh and rhythmic. The amber in his eyes turns to molten gold, bright and feral.
The managed, polite college guy is gone. The wolf is right at the surface.
"Maisie," he rasps, turning to face me. "You have no idea how good you smell right now."
I step toward him, heart hammering against my ribs, but there isn't an ounce of fear in me. I've spent weeks testing this, analyzing it, choosing it.
"Tell me what you want, Boone."
"I want you on the bed," he growls, closing the distance between us in one massive, predatory stride.
"I want to taste you. I want to sink my teeth into your neck until every creature on this campus knows who you belong to.
" He stops an inch away, chest heaving, hands trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Tell me you want it. Tell me now, or I swear to God I'll back off. "
"Don't you dare back off," I say, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking him down. "I want the bond. I want you."
A ragged growl rips from his chest. His mouth crashes onto mine—hard and greedy, tasting like heat and hunger.
His hands dive under my sweater, rough calloused palms spanning my waist, lifting me effortlessly off my feet.
I wrap my legs around his hips, gasping into his mouth as he carries me across the room and drops me onto the mattress.
He follows me down, his heavy, solid weight pressing me into the sheets. He strips my sweater over my head in one frantic motion, tossing it aside, and then his hands are on my jeans, shoving them down my hips along with my underwear until I'm bare beneath him.
His eyes devour every inch of my body, dark gold and blazing. "Fuck, Maisie. You're so damn gorgeous."
"Boone. Take your damn shirt off."
He rips his shirt over his head, muscles flexing, thick scars gleaming across his golden skin. When he comes back over me, skin to skin, the contact scorches.
His mouth drops straight to the curve of my neck and shoulder. He licks the exact spot where the mark will go, his sharp canines scraping lightly over my pulse. A sharp shiver tears through me, and I arch upward with a breathless moan.
He groans against my skin, the sound vibrating through my bones. "You like that? You like knowing where I'm going to bite you?"
"Yes," I choke out, digging my fingers into his muscular shoulders. "Boone, please."
"Look at me."
I open my eyes. He's hovering above me, enormous and powerful, his jaw tight with restraint.
"I need to taste you first," he murmurs, his voice rough as sandpaper. "I need to make you come before I mark you."
Before I can answer, he slides down my body, his mouth trailing fire over my ribs, my belly, my hip bones. He pushes my knees wide, settling between my thighs, and looks up at me with those glowing gold eyes—predatory and hungry.
"Boone—"
His mouth covers my center. I cry out, my hands tangling instantly in his thick hair.
He doesn't hold back. His tongue is hot, broad, and ruthless, licking into me with heavy, possessive strokes while his thumbs spread me open.
Every swipe sends shocks straight to my core.
He groans into my heat, drunk on my scent, his mouth working me with devastating precision.
He sucks my clit, and my hips buck helplessly off the bed.
"Boone, oh God—I'm going to—"
He slides two thick fingers deep inside me, curling upward, matching the relentless rhythm of his mouth. The pleasure is too much—too sharp, too intense. I shatter, a ragged scream tearing from my throat as my orgasm crashes through me, my inner muscles clamping down hard around his fingers.
He drinks every drop, growling against my slick skin, before crawling back up my body.
He's completely naked now, hard and heavy against my thigh, his shaft thick and glistening with pre-cum. He presses his forehead to mine, breathing raggedly.
"I'm losing my mind, Maisie," he rasps, grinding his hips against mine. "Tell me you're ready."
"Now, Boone. Please," I beg, wrapping my legs tight around his waist.
He lines himself up at my entrance and pushes forward in one slow, agonizingly thick thrust.
I gasp, my head falling back into the pillow as he stretches me open. He's massive, filling every corner of me until there's nothing left but him. He goes still, buried to the hilt, his muscles locked tight as he fights for control.
"You're so fucking tight," he grunts, his hands gripping my hips hard, holding me pinned. "So warm."
"Move," I whisper, digging my heels into his lower back. "Boone, move."
He pulls back and drives into me again, deep and hard.
A broken sound escapes me. He sets a brutal, primal pace, his hips snapping against mine making the bed creaks under his power, but every stroke is perfectly angled, hitting the deepest part of me over and over.
I grab his arms, anchoring myself against the storm of his body, meeting him thrust for thrust.
His mouth finds my neck again. He presses his open lips against the mark point, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin while he pounds into me. The anticipation is unbearable. Every scrape of his teeth sends a jolt straight to my clit, winding the coil inside me tighter and tighter.
"Boone," I sob, clutching his back as the friction builds toward another climax. "The bite. Do it. Mark me."
He lifts his head, his eyes burning pure gold—fierce and utterly devoted. "Tell me you're mine, Maisie. Tell me you choose this."
"I'm yours," I cry out, arching my neck to give him full access. "I choose you. Bite me!"
"I love you," he roars against my throat.
"I love you—"
He sinks his fangs deep into the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
A sharp, searing burst of pain flares for half a second—and then explodes into pure, molten fire. At the exact same instant, he drives into me with one final, savage thrust and comes, his hot seed flooding me while a deep, guttural roar rips from his chest.
My second orgasm detonates, tearing through every nerve ending in my body.
And then, the world shifts. The bond snaps into place.
It's not a cage. It's a floodgate opening.
A tidal wave of warmth rushes from the bite through my bloodstream, settling into my core, my chest, my bones.
His presence crashes into mine—solid, unshakeable, fiercely protective, and overflowing with profound relief.
He seals the bite with his tongue, his saliva soothing the wound, before pulling back and licking the puncture marks clean. His heavy body collapses over mine, burying his face in my hair, his chest heaving as he holds me so tightly I can barely breathe.
I wrap my arms around his back, tangling my fingers in his hair.
The room is silent except for our ragged breathing and the soft moonlight spilling over the bed.
"Maisie," he whispers, kissing the fresh mark on my neck.
"Hi," I whisper back, smiling against his shoulder. I close my eyes, feeling his heartbeat thumping against my ribs and the warm, steady hum of the bond resting beneath my skin.
I didn't lose myself. I'm still Maisie Pope—stubborn, practical, and ambitious. But now, I have him. Permanent. Chosen. Mine.
I pull the sheets over us, bury my face in his chest, and let sleep take me.