As the wind blows, my nostrils fill with an entirely new scent. My mind opens up, and her anxiety and pleasure slam into me.
She’s officially my mate. Mynîkâkîstisin every way. My everything. My weakness, my strength, my heart and soul.
I’m so fucked.
My reasons for completing the bond may have been to protect her, but now everything has changed. Instincts like nothing ever felt consumes me—transforms me. They’re not like the ones I’ve had since meeting her. No, they’re more driven, all-consuming, and utterly in control.
The other coven will not touch her.
No one will.
No one will go near her. They won’t look at her. They won’t talk to her, see her, interact with her—nothing.
She’s no one’s but mine. There will be no more future males for her. She’s marked as such. A visual reminder for everyone, but also for her. A bit of pain, a bit of possession, both to remind her of her place in this world. A pain I soothe with my tongue, mumbling promises in the Old Language. Promises to care for her, to support her while she rules her coven and my pack and she’ll stay in my nest, my cabin, my cave. She owns me in every way she doesn’t want, and I own her pleasure, her well-being, and her future.
After today, Twilight Grove will never have her. They won’t find her, because once she’s rested, she’s getting locked inside the caves. She’ll remain in mine, under guard of female shifters—because I’ll rip the throats of any males near her—and then I’ll search for that cousin of hers to demand a barrier spell be placed around the cave so the others can’t find her. She’ll never be taken because my every single instinct, breath, and nerve will fight to protect her. I’ll die for her if I must.
“Ryder?” she whispers, and it’s the softness of her tone reminding where we are, that I’m still inside her, and her neck is lightly bleeding from four pointed wounds she’s about to have a lot of questions about.
I won’t be able to lie to her, but she’ll hate me.
I lean forward to nuzzle her neck, first with my nose, breathing in her skin, which soothes my growing anxiety. Then I lap the wounds, thanking her without words for what she’s given me: her soul.
“Biting me…was it a wolf thing?”
“Yeah.”
With my knot decompressed enough, I slide from her slowly, taking extra care not to harm her. One day, she’ll take mewithout as much ache, but until then, I vow to never make sex hurt in a way she’ll be scarred by.
She lowers back to the ground, rolling onto her back. I follow, rubbing her hips, thighs, and down to her legs, proving that no matter if she views tonight as a betrayal, I’ll do anything to care for her.
Her emotions hit me like a brick to the face. Confusion mainly, and it bothers me that she’s not passing out in bliss. My mate should be content, relaxed, and safe before I bring her home.
Of course, none of this will be as simple as the wolf wants. This is Carina, the witch—the outsider. She’ll have questions and likely won’t appreciate the answers. Some of them will be the same questions my pack has when they learn the mate of their Alpha is another species.
Her hand lifts to the bite wounds, which are already sealing themselves up. Inside my brain, my wolf rumbles in contentment with her acknowledgement. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Did you like it?”
Mortification slams into me—from her. It’s strange to feel another’s emotions, separate from my own. “Yes…”
“Good.”
Once she’s all rubbed down, I drop beside her to gather her in my arms. When she eventually and inevitably falls asleep, I’ll carry her to the camp, retrieve Holly and Miriam to stand guard, and then set her up in the caves before risking a visit to the town.
For now, I tuck my head in her neck, mouth over the mark, and simply remain.
“Why did that feel so much more intense than regular sex?”
Dad said female shifters feel thenîkâkîstisbond on a minimal level, but as a witch, she shouldn’t. Considering her kind shouldn’t even beina bond with a shifter, this whole situation is abnormal.
“Ever have sex with a shifter before?”
“Well, no.” Her breath blows hot on my chest with her laugh. “I guess that’d explain it. Mortals don’t really do it as good.”
The idea of her with any man sets my blood to boil, and I bite my inner cheek to tamper the emotion. From now on, I’m her only option. “Anyone from your coven?” I ask, to torture myself with the knowledge that someone in the vicinity knows what she feels and looks like.
“One of Jasper’s friends. It was weird. Everyone in the coven is basically family, so tourists are easier. They’re gone before any attachment sets in.” Her hair shifts down my arm as she tips her head. “You really want to have this conversation?”
