Chapter 14
Owen
The peace doesn’t last.
Before dawn, my phone buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
And again.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slapping the screen blindly.
I grab it off the nightstand and squint at the notification through sleep-blurred eyes.
“Preacher and Esmerelda are inbound,” I read aloud.
Of course they are.
Megan stirs beside me, blinking up with those sleepy, stormy eyes. Her hair is a delicious mess. Her lips still pink from my kisses. Her skin kissed with the heat of what we did—what we are now.
“Now?” she murmurs, voice rough and low.
“Yeah,” I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “We’ve got to meet them at the station.”
She frowns. It’s adorable. I want to bite her again.
Hard.
“What? Why? Can’t they just come here?”
I glance around the bedroom.
Twisted sheets. Scattered clothes. My belt half-draped over her boots. Her bra on the lampshade like a damn victory flag.
And the scent.
God, the scent.
Her slick still coats my skin. Her heat clings to the walls. The whole fucking room smells like sex and claiming and mine.
I shake my head.
“Because,” I grunt, already pulling on my jeans.
She raises a brow. “Because? You think that’s a good enough answer?”
“I mean it,” I say, running my hands through my hair, trying to get my shit together, but it’s no use. I’m a fucking goner. “Look, I don’t want to scare you, but you know what we did, right?”
She props herself up on one elbow, sheet slipping down her bare shoulder.
“Yeah,” she says slowly. “We had sex.”
“No,” I say, meeting her gaze. “We had claiming sex. I bit you. You let me. That’s—that means something. It’s binding.”
My heart slams in my chest. My Wolf paces, ears flattened.
Because what if she didn’t know?
What if I moved too fast?
What if she regrets it already?
Then she says, “I know.”
She says it like it’s simple.
“I told you, you’re the one, Owen. All that talk of fated mates and the way we’ve been drawn to each other from that first minute, well, it feels like this—you and me are meant to be, and I don’t know how I know it, but I do.”
My breath catches.
Fuck.
A rush of pure, wild joy floods through me—so fierce and overwhelming it shakes me to my core.
“You’re damn right it’s meant to be.”
My Wolf howls in my chest, triumphant.
A deep growl rolls out of me, involuntary and loud.
Her eyes widen.
But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away.
She just stares at me like I’m the only man in the world worth looking at.
And I swear to God, if she wasn’t already mine, I’d drop to my knees and beg her to be.
“So?” she asks, voice teasing now. “What’s with the whole can’t-have-guests thing?”
I exhale and rub the back of my neck.
“Megan, you just mated a Wolf Shifter. I’m gonna be a little, uh, possessive for a while.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “Possessive?”
“Yeah.” I shove one leg into my jeans, still watching her. “They can’t come here. Because it smells like you. And me. And sex. And if anyone—anyone—walks in here right now, I will tear their fucking head off.”
There.
Truth.
No filter. No apologies.
She doesn’t laugh.
Doesn’t joke.
Her cheeks flush.
Her legs press together.
And her pupils?
Blow wide with something very close to lust.
Well, fuck me.
She likes it.
She likes that I’m this close to feral.
She likes that the Wolf inside me is snarling at the very idea of another man breathing the same air she just moaned my name in.
This woman? She’s not scared of my beast.
She wants him.
Wants me.
And I don’t know what kind of miracle I did to deserve her, but I’m not letting go. Not now. Not ever.
“Jesus,” I mutter, crossing the room to hand her the shirt she wore yesterday like it’s a crown. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”
She grins, slipping it on like armor.
“Too late, Sheriff.”
And damn it, I hope she’s right.
I cross the room in two strides and kiss her again—hard.
My hand fists in her hair, my mouth claiming hers like I didn’t just have her writhing beneath me mere hours ago.
Because it’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathless. I press my forehead to hers, eyes closed, just needing the contact. The anchor.
“Let’s go.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her voice a little shaky.
She follows me docile as a kitten, and for a second I think maybe I broke her.
But no—that’s not what this is.
This is shock. Aftershocks.
The real Megan—sharp-tongued, firecracker, smarter-than-sin Agent DiNapoli—she’s still in there. And she’ll be back with a vengeance the second her brain catches up with her body.
And I can’t wait.
Because, yeah, it’s too soon. We barely know each other.
But some part of me already knows her.
Already loves her.
And I never thought I’d feel that for anyone, but I do. I swear to the fucking gods I do.
I love her.
And it might be fast, even for Arrhythmia, but there ain’t a damn thing wrong with that in my book.