“Now,” she said, eyes bright gold, lioness fully awake. “With me.”
“Yes.” He bared his throat; she bared hers, two predators submitting to nothing but each other.
They moved together, faster, deeper, the world narrowing to breath and heat and the point where soul met body like a flint strike. He felt her go tight, saw it hit her when her shoulders went back, her chin up, power rolling through her in a wave, and he let go too, driving once more, twice, and then he was falling with her.
She turned her head and bit his collarbone; he turned and bit hers, not cruel, not careless but claiming at the exact same heartbeat. The mark bloomed under his mouth, copper and salt, and a flare of gold limned their skin, bright enough to chase the shadows to the corners. The bond snapped into place like a circle closing. No chain. No cage. A loop drawn by two steady hands.
They rode it down together, heartbeat by heartbeat, the light softening to a warm glow only they would feel under the skin. He stayed inside her, braced on his forearms so he wasn’t heavy, mouth against her temple because he was suddenly afraid that if he let go the world would tilt. Her palm slid up the back of his neck, fingers scratching gently at the short hairs there, a touch he would crave for the rest of his days.
“You okay?” he asked, voice wrecked and happy.
She turned her face and kissed his jaw, slow. “Yeah,” she said. “Better than okay.”
He eased to his side and tugged her with him, still joined, unwilling to break anything they’d just sealed. The rug wasn’t much of a bed, but the couch would have been a crime after this. He pulled the throw from the armchair without looking and tossed it over them. The storm sang softly at the panes. The fire folded in on itself, content.
Maeve lay with one leg tangled over his, head on his shoulder, breath evening out. He traced idle circles along her spine and felt the golden hum under her skin answer his. Not destiny. Not decree. The quiet, glorious thrum ofchosen.
“If you ever tell Twyla we did this on her rug,” Maeve murmured, already drifting, “I’ll ban you for life.”
He smiled into her hair and let his eyes close, the bond purring low, the world nothing but snow, fire, and the woman who finally said yes.
True mates by choice.
And the choice had never felt more like freedom.
34
MAEVE
Maeve woke to the sensation of a second heartbeat thrumming beneath her ribs.
Her eyes snapped open, panic flaring for half a second before memory crashed in. The firelight. Dante's hands. The bite that sealed everything. She pressed her palm flat against her chest, feeling the echo of his pulse keeping time with her own, a rhythm that was pulled by the golden thread that now bound them together.
Bonded. They were actually bonded.
The weight across her waist shifted, and Dante's arm tightened reflexively, pulling her closer against his warmth. They'd moved to the couch at some point during the night, the throw blanket tangled around their legs, morning light painting everything silver through the frosted windows.
She turned her head to study him in sleep. Golden hair falling across his forehead. The strong line of his jaw. The mark she'd left on his collarbone, darker than it had been last night, already healed but permanent. Her lioness purred with deep satisfaction.
Mine.
His eyes opened, amber catching the light, and the smile that curved his mouth made her chest ache. "Morning, Cub."
"Morning." Her voice came out rough with the first words of the day. "You're in my head."
"You're in mine too." He reached up to trace her cheekbone with one finger. "How do you…does it feel?"
It should have been invasive. But not to her. Not to shifters. In fact, she felt… warm. At peace.
She could sense his emotions like flavors on her tongue: contentment, fierce protectiveness, love so deep it made her breath catch. And beneath it all, his lion's steady presence, no longer separate but intertwined with her own.
"It's different than I expected." She sat up slowly, the blanket falling away, suddenly aware of every sensation with shocking clarity. The temperature of the air. The texture of the fabric beneath her. The sound of snow sliding off the roof outside. "Everything's sharper. Clearer."
Dante sat up beside her, his hand finding the small of her back like it belonged there. "Our senses merging, strengthening each other."
She focused inward, testing the new awareness. She could feel his heartbeat matching hers, could sense the exact moment his attention shifted from her face to the mark on her shoulder. The connection thrummed between them, alive and golden and absolutely right.
"I thought I'd feel smaller." The admission came quietly. "Losing myself in someone else's presence."
