35. Tessa
TESSA
The door crashes open and Archer is there, filling the frame, blood on his shirt and wildness in his eyes. I run to him before I can think, my hands searching his body for wounds, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You're hurt," I say, touching a gash on his arm, but he catches my wrist.
"Not my blood." His voice is rough, strained, and I can feel him through the bond—rage and fear and something desperate clawing at his control. "Damon's nearby. The rogues are pushing toward the eastern ridge. I came to make sure you were safe before I—"
"Before you what?" I grip his shirt, pulling him fully inside, slamming the door behind him. The cabin feels too small suddenly, the walls thin, the sounds of distant howls and crashes bleeding through from the forest beyond. "Before you go face him alone? Before you get yourself killed?"
Archer's hands frame my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "I have to end this, Tessa. Tonight. He's targeting you specifically now—he knows you're my mate. I can't let him—"
"Look at me," I interrupt, my voice shaking.
I force him to meet my eyes, to see me. Really see me.
"I knew what I was getting into when I stayed.
When I chose you. And I choose you again, Archer.
Every time. But I need you to know—I believe in you.
Not just as my mate, but as the man who protects this town. Who protects all of us."
His expression fractures, the mask of the alpha warrior slipping to reveal the man beneath. "If something happens to me—"
"Don't." I press my fingers to his lips.
"Don't say it. Don't even think it." I can feel the battle raging outside, feel the urgency pressing down on us like a physical weight.
The bond hums between us, anxious and alive, demanding connection, demanding now.
"But if you need to feel me before you go, if you need to carry something with you—"
I don't finish the sentence. Archer crushes his mouth to mine, his kiss tasting like smoke and desperation and goodbye. I refuse to let it be goodbye.
I tear at his clothes, buttons flying, fabric ripping.
He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist, my back hitting the wall as his mouth devours mine.
There's no time for slow, no time for gentle—there's only this moment, this urgency, this need to be as close as two people can be before the world tears us apart.
“Here. Now. Please, Archer. Take me."
He groans, a sound torn from deep in his chest, and then he pulls me behind a shelf before my jeans are shoved down, my underwear with them, and he's lifting me, positioning me, his eyes locked on mine—gold and brown swirling together, the tiger and the man both present, both mine.
"Tell me," he demands, the head of him pressing against my entrance, teasing, waiting.
My fingers dig into his shoulders. "Claim me again. Remind me I'm yours."
He thrusts into me in one powerful stroke, filling me completely, and I cry out, my head falling back against the wall.
He stills for a moment, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to mine, and I can feel everything through the bond—his love, his fear, his determination to survive this, to come back to me.
I roll my hips, desperate for friction. "Please, Archer. Don't hold back."
He doesn't. He sets a brutal pace, each thrust driving deep, hitting that perfect spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. The wall knocks against my back with every stroke, the sound of our bodies joining loud in the quiet cabin, mixing with our ragged breaths and broken moans.
"I can feel you," he grits out, his hand sliding between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling in time with his thrusts. "Your pleasure. Your fear. Your love. It's all flooding through me, Tessa. You're burning me alive."
"Good," I gasp, arching into him, meeting each thrust, taking him deeper. "Burn with me. Stay with me."
The bond flares brighter, golden threads weaving tighter, connecting us on a level beyond physical. I can feel his approaching climax, feel his struggle to hold back, to make this last, and I clench around him, my own orgasm building like a storm.
"Let go," I tell him, my voice breaking. "Give it to me. Give me everything."
Archer snarls, his rhythm faltering, becoming wild, uncontrolled. His mouth finds the mark on my neck, the one he left days ago, and he bites down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to send me over the edge.
I come screaming his name, my body convulsing around him, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. He follows a second later, burying himself to the hilt, his release pulsing hot and deep inside me, his roar muffled against my shoulder.
We stay like that, locked together, shaking, the bond singing between us, stronger now, reinforced by the intimacy and the emotion and the sheer desperate need of the moment.
Slowly, he lowers me to my feet, but he doesn't let go. His arms stay around me, holding me close, his face buried in my hair. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching my own.
"I'll come back," he whispers, and it sounds like a vow. "I swear to you, Tessa. I'll come back."
I pull back enough to look at him, to memorize his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the gold flecks in his eyes, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters.
"You'd better," I say, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "Because I'm not done with you yet, Archer. Not even close."
He smiles then, small and fierce and full of love. He kisses me softly, gently, a complete contrast to the desperate joining moments before. "Hold the town together," he says. "The pack will listen to you. You're their alpha's mate. They'll follow your lead."
"I will," I promise, straightening my clothes, finding my strength. "I'll keep them safe. You just focus on ending this. On coming home."
Archer tucks himself back into his jeans, pulls on his ruined shirt, and retrieves his jacket from the floor. At the door, he pauses, looking back at me one last time. Through the bond, I feel his determination solidify, his resolve harden into something unbreakable.
"Archer," I call as he opens the door.
He turns.
"I love you," I say, the words carrying everything I can't articulate—the fear, the hope, the absolute certainty that he's mine and I'm his. "Now go protect what's yours."
He smiles, fierce and feral, the alpha fully present. "Always."
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him, and I stand alone in the bookstore, the bond stretching between us like a lifeline, pulsing with his love and his determination. I press my hand to my chest, feeling him moving through the forest, toward the battle, toward Damon.
I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and reach for my phone. The pack needs Archer's mate. The town needs someone to hold the line.
And I need to be worthy of the man who just walked into hell to keep us all safe.
I dial Conrad's number, my voice steady when he answers. "Gather the enforcers. We're securing the perimeter. And Conrad—Archer's going after Damon. We need to be ready to support him."
I hang up and move to the window, staring out at the dark forest where my mate is hunting. The bond hums, warm and alive, connecting us across the distance.
Come back to me, I send through it, hoping he can feel it. Come back, and I'll spend the rest of my life proving I was worth the fight.
The night stretches before me, full of danger and uncertainty, but I stand tall. I'm Archer's mate. And I won't let him down.
—
The bookstore feels different now. Not quieter. Not calmer. Just… held together by tension.
Every sound outside carries farther than it should. Every footstep on the street feels like it belongs to something larger than a town going through an emergency. It feels like the moment before something breaks. And I hate that I can’t see Archer. I force my focus back to the radios.
“North ridge holding,” Delilah reports.
“Eastern access stable for now.”
“Southern line has minor pressure but no engagement.”
I write it down without looking away from the counter. My handwriting is getting sharper. More mechanical. Less like mine. A new update comes through—fast, clipped.
“Archer confirmed movement into northwest forest sector.”
My hand stills for half a second. Then I force it to move again. Of course he did. He didn’t stay behind the lines. He never does.
I key the channel immediately. “Do we have visual confirmation on Archer’s position?”
Static.
Then Conrad’s voice. “Negative. He’s off-grid.”
“Of course he is,” I mutter.
Delilah looks at me from across the room. “You okay?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m functional.”
That earns a short exhale from her that almost sounds like agreement. Another burst of radio chatter cuts in—too fast, too chaotic.
“Multiple rogue contacts shifting north—”
“Hold position,” I snap into the channel. “Do not pursue beyond perimeter markers.”
My voice is steady. It has to be. Because if I let it slip, everything else does too.
Delilah moves closer to me. “Tessa, you need to slow down for a second.”
“I can’t,” I say immediately.
She studies me for a beat.
“You’re not just coordinating anymore,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
That’s the problem. I really do know. And I don’t know when it happened. The bookstore door opens suddenly. I look up fast, already bracing. It’s Brooke. She steps inside quickly, scanning the room before focusing on me.
“Tessa,” she says. “Archer came through the southern line briefly. He didn’t stop.”
“Where is he now?”
“Northwest sector,” she says. “He’s tracking something.”
Of course he is. I press my fingers against the edge of the counter, grounding myself.
“Did he say anything?” I ask.
Brooke hesitates just slightly.
“He said to keep you here,” she replies.
I almost laugh at that. Almost.
“I’m already here,” I say.
That’s not what he meant. And we all know it. Another radio burst cuts through before anyone can say anything else.
“Northwest movement confirmed—Archer engaged with hostile target.”