17. Tessa
TESSA
Idon’t sleep. Not really.
I lie in Archer’s bed, staring at the ceiling while everything he told me rewires my entire understanding of reality.
Mate.
The word echoes over and over again in my head, equal parts ridiculous and terrifying and… something else I’m not quite ready to name. Because the worst part isn’t the supernatural explanation. It’s that it fits.
Every charged glance. Every strange pull.
Every moment where being near him felt like standing too close to a live wire.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was something deeper.
Something that makes my chest feel tight just thinking about it.
I turn onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow with a frustrated groan.
“This is insane,” I mutter into the darkness.
Except it doesn’t feel insane. It feels inevitable. And that’s what scares me. Because I’ve spent my entire life making my own choices. Building my own path. Recovering from the consequences of trusting the wrong people.
And now I’m supposed to believe that fate—or biology or whatever this is—just… decided for me? Yeah. No. Not without a fight.
I sit up abruptly, throwing the blankets aside. The clock on the nightstand reads just after three in the morning, but sleep is clearly not happening tonight. There’s only one thing left to do.
I need answers. Real ones. And I’m not getting them lying here pretending I can just accept everything Archer dropped on me like it was no big deal.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, grabbing the oversized shirt I’d borrowed from him earlier and tugging it down over my thighs. It smells like him—woodsmoke and something warm and wild—and the scent alone is enough to make my pulse pick up.
Annoying. Very annoying. I step out into the hallway, the house quiet around me, but I can feel him before I even see him. That pull. It’s stronger now. Sharper. Like something invisible has snapped into place between us. My breath catches as I follow it, down the stairs and into the living room.
Archer stands near the window, shirtless, his back to me as he stares out into the dark.
Of course he does. Of course the man looks like a walking fantasy even at three in the morning. My irritation spikes, giving me just enough backbone to push forward.
“Convenient,” I say, leaning against the doorway. “You being awake already. Saves me the trouble of dramatic knocking.”
He stiffens slightly before turning to face me. His eyes find mine immediately. And the air changes. God, I hate that.
“You should be sleeping,” he says, his voice low.
“You should be better at explaining life-altering supernatural revelations,” I shoot back.
A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—touches his expression before it fades.
“Fair point.”
The tension in Archer's cabin has been building for hours, and I can't stand it anymore. He's pretending to read some report, but I can see the way his jaw keeps ticking, the way his fingers tighten on the paper every time I shift on the couch.
"Stop," I say, and my voice comes out sharper than I intended.
Archer doesn't look up. "Stop what?"
"Pretending." I stand up, crossing the space between us in three quick strides. "Pretending you don't feel this. Pretending you don't watch me when you think I'm not looking. Pretending your entire body doesn't go rigid every time I get close."
His eyes finally snap to mine, and they're burning—gold bleeding into the brown, the tiger rising to the surface.
"Tessa, don't."
"Don't what?" I press closer, until I can feel the heat radiating off him, until I'm standing between his knees where he sits in that leather chair. "Don't name it? Don't admit that whatever this is between us is driving us both insane?"
Archer drops the papers. His hands grip the armrests so hard I hear the wood creak. "You don't understand what you're asking for."
"Then explain it to me." I lean down, bracing my hands on either side of him, caging him in. "Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm on fire every time you're near, and I'm tired of you running from it."
For a moment he goes completely still, and I think I've pushed too far. Then his control fractures.
Archer's hand shoots up, tangling in my hair, pulling my head back until I'm staring down into those wild golden eyes.
"You want to know what this is?" His voice is a growl, low and dangerous.
"It's the mating call. It's my tiger recognizing you as mine.
And if I let go, Tessa—if I stop holding back—there's no going back.
Do you understand? I'll claim you. I'll mark you.
You'll be bound to me in ways you can't comprehend. "
My breath catches, but not from fear. From the raw need in his voice, from the way his grip tightens just enough to sting.
"Then claim me."
Something in him snaps. Archer surges up from the chair, lifting me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist as he carries me backward.
My back hits the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, but his mouth is on mine before I can gasp, his tongue sweeping in with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
"Last chance," he snarls against my lips, his hands already pulling at my shirt, tearing fabric in his urgency. "Tell me to stop."
I answer by biting his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Don't you dare stop."
Archer makes a sound that's half human, half animal, and then my shirt is gone, my bra following a second later. His mouth descends to my breast, teeth grazing my nipple before he sucks hard, and I cry out, arching into him. He's rough—desperate—and I've never been so turned on in my life.
"Bedroom," he manages, but he's already unbuttoning my jeans, his hand sliding down, fingers finding me wet and ready.
"Can't wait," I pant, rocking against his palm. "Archer, please—"
He spins us away from the wall and drops me onto the couch, following me down, his weight pressing me into the cushions.
I work at his belt frantically, needing to feel him, needing him inside me now.
He helps, shoving his jeans down, and then he's there—thick and hard and burning hot against my thigh.
"Look at me," he commands, positioning himself at my entrance. "Eyes on me when I take you, Tessa. I want to see the moment you become mine."
I lock eyes with him—gold swallowed by black, the tiger fully present—and then he thrusts into me in one hard, claiming stroke.
I scream. He's big, stretching me, filling me so completely I can barely breathe. For a moment he stays still, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed against mine, our breath mingling.
"Tell me you're okay," he grits out, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Move," I demand, wrapping my legs around his hips, digging my heels into his lower back. "Archer, move."
He pulls back and slams into me, setting a rhythm that's fast and deep and exactly what I need.
The couch creaks beneath us, the sound of skin against skin filling the room along with our ragged breathing and broken moans.
Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside me, building pressure coiling tighter and tighter at my core.
"Touch yourself," Archer orders, his voice guttural. "I want to feel you come around me. I want to feel you milk my cock when I fill you."
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and I slide my hand between us, finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts.
The pleasure intensifies, sharp and overwhelming, and I can feel something else too—a strange warmth spreading through my chest, like golden threads weaving between us, binding us together.
"Archer—" I gasp, feeling the bond snapping into place, feeling him—his pleasure, his possessiveness, his wild love—flooding through me along with my own.
"I know," he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm. "I feel it too. God, Tessa, you're perfect—you're mine—"
He buries his face in my neck, and I feel the sharp sting of his teeth breaking skin as he bites down, marking me.
The pain explodes into pleasure so intense I shatter, coming hard around him, my body clenching, milking him as he thrusts deep one final time and spills inside me with a roar that shakes the walls.
The bond locks into place fully then—a tether in my chest, warm and alive, pulsing with Archer's heartbeat. I can feel his satisfaction, his relief, his absolute certainty that this was meant to be. It's overwhelming and beautiful and terrifying all at once.
We stay like that for long minutes, tangled together, his weight pressing me into the couch in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes have returned to their normal brown, though they shine with a softness I've never seen before.
He brushes hair from my face with trembling fingers. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"
I laugh, breathless, still feeling aftershocks ripple through me. "I'm better than alright." I touch the mark on my neck, already healing but tender. "Is it always like that? The bond?"
Archer shifts us onto our sides without breaking our connection, keeping me close, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip.
"No," he says quietly. "It's never like that.
The bond is... it's usually a gradual thing.
A choice. But with you—" He shakes his head, wonder in his voice.
"It was immediate. Irrevocable. My tiger knew you were my mate the moment I scented you the moment you came into town. "
I stare at him. "You've known all this time?"
"I've been fighting it," he admits, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Trying to protect you. A mate bond makes you a target, Tessa. The rogues who've been hunting our pack—they'll sense this. They'll know you're my weakness now. They'll come for you to get to me."
The reality of his words sinks in, cooling some of the post-coital haze.
I think of the attacks, the danger he's been shielding me from.
"Then we'll face them together," I say, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice.
"You said I'm yours, Archer. That means you're mine too.
And I'm not letting anyone use me against you. "
Archer goes still, studying my face, searching for something. Whatever he finds makes his expression soften further, a small smile touching his lips. "You really mean that."
"I do." I cup his face, feeling the bond pulse between us, warm and reassuring. "So stop trying to protect me by pushing me away. We're bound now. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
He closes his eyes, turning his face into my palm, and I feel his relief through the bond—profound and grateful. "I love you," he whispers. "I think I've loved you since that first night."
I smile, pulling him closer. "Then show me again," I murmur against his lips. "Slower this time. We have all night to figure out what comes next."
Archer groans, already hardening inside me again, and I laugh as he rolls us off the couch toward the bedroom, the bond between us glowing bright and unbreakable in the dark.