Chapter 13
Owen
Sinking into my mate’s primed, welcoming body for the first time?
Yeah.
That’s it.
That’s the moment everything in my life has been leading to.
The second I sheath myself inside her—deep and slow, like I’m sliding into something sacred—my entire world realigns.
The earth tilts.
My Wolf surges forward, hungry and triumphant, because he knows what I’ve known since the second I laid eyes on her.
She’s ours.
Not just in body.
In soul.
And something deeper—bigger than either of us—has been pulling the strings to bring us to this very moment.
There’s still so much I need to say.
To explain.
About the bond. About what this means.
That once we do this—truly do this—there’s no turning back.
That we’re bound. Fated.
Marked by the stars, the moon, and every damn instinct I’ve ever had.
But then she reaches up, palms to my cheeks, eyes impossibly wide and soft and sure, and she whispers— “I know.”
She knows.
And that knowing? It breaks something inside me. Some lingering tether of restraint. The bond unfurls like smoke between us—thick and heady and real.
She pulls me down for a kiss, and I go willingly—because there’s nowhere else I ever want to be again.
Her tight heat pulses around my cock, her body already wrapped around me like she was made for this. For me.
And I know she was.
I try to stay still, to memorize the feeling, but I can’t. My hips roll forward. Grind. My body demands more. All of her.
She moans my name like a prayer— “Owen” —and I nearly lose it right there.
“Megan,” I rasp, my voice wrecked and reverent as our foreheads press together.
Our breath mingles. Our souls sync. It’s a rhythm older than the mountains, older than names.
We move together, her body catching and clenching around me like she’s been waiting her whole life for this. For me.
And me? I feel like I’ve known her for centuries.
This isn’t just sex.
It’s a claiming. A communion.
And it’s everything.
“You’re the one,” she gasps, voice breaking like a spell being cast. “Mine.”
And then her eyes roll back—whitening, glowing—and that’s when I feel it.
Not just her body wrapped around me, taking everything I give.
But her mind. Her heart. Her magic—opening for me completely.
“Mate.”
I see her.
Every part of her.
Her pain. Her pride. Her fire. Her need.
And she lets me see it. All of it.
Lets me in.
The bond snaps taut between us like lightning. My Wolf howls, ancient and wild and starving, and I start to move harder—deeper—every thrust a promise. A vow. A branding.
She meets me beat for beat, her cries turning breathless and high as her climax builds. My body’s close—so damn close—and I know I’m losing control.
But I don’t care.
Because this is right.
Because she’s mine.
“Mine,” I growl—claiming her with words.
The same thing the Wolf inside me has been saying since he recognized Megan is my mate.
My fangs elongate, but I wait for it. Needs to be just right.
“Come for me, mate. Come so I can claim you,” I growl, flexing my hips sliding my hand between us, coating my fingers in our slick so I can rub her needy little clit.
One swipe. Then two. And then, Megan shatters beneath me.
Her body seizes, her thighs locking around my hips, her voice rising in a sound that splits the air like thunder.
And I bite.
Not to hurt. Not to harm.
But to claim.
My teeth sink into the soft curve between her neck and shoulder, the spot meant for this—the ancient mark of mating.
And fuck, she likes it.
Her pussy squeezes me tighter.
She cries out, clutches me tighter, and pulses around me just as I break with a roar that shakes the windows.
I come so hard I see stars—every ounce of me pouring into her, body and soul, our bond snapping into place with a final, fierce snap.
When it’s over, I’m trembling.
Spent. Shaken. Changed.
She’s panting beneath me, still clinging, still mine.
And even though neither of us says it, I know we both feel it.
It’s done.
It’s real.
It’s forever.
And I know I won’t survive a single day without her.
“Owen,” she murmurs, clinging to me, and I lean down, fusing our lips together.
We kiss.
We hold each other.
And it’s perfect.
Not polished. Not practiced. Not some fairytale fantasy.
Just real.
Raw.
Honest.
Ours.
And perfect for us.
Her skin is still flushed from our claiming. Her lips are swollen from my mouth. Her breathing has settled into a slow, even rhythm, and she fits against me like a key in a lock I’ve been carrying around my whole damn life.
I don’t want to move.
Don’t want this moment to end.
Ever.
There’s a million things I know we need to do.
Talk about, plan for.
The mansion. The Crypts. The ghosts. The Hellmouth we’ve barely kept sealed. The warlock magic threading under this whole damn town like a loaded tripwire.
All of it’s urgent.
But none of it matters.
Not now.
Not with Megan tucked beneath my arm, one thigh hooked over mine, her scent stamped all over me like proof that I belong somewhere at last.
For the first time in years, my brain is quiet. My Wolf is purring, settled, smug.
Content.
I close my eyes, and sleep takes me before I can second-guess a damn thing.