She moved.
A slow grind of hips. A ripple of muscle. Her body taking him in again and again, and her heart cracking wider with every stroke. He arched beneath her, his hands roaming her waist, her hips, up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples in slow, worshipful circles.
He was so deep. So hard. So good.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
She wanted more. Not just of his body. Of his soul.
How could she even think about letting this man go?
How could she live in a world where he breathed, and she couldn’t have him?
Her past ached inside her. It controlled her, haunted her, shaped the cage she carried. She had run. She had vowed never to return. But this? This was more than she’d ever imagined.
This man.
This warrior who went to war not for glory, but to support his family. Who gave his mother a safe place to live. Who taught his brother the old ways and made room for new ones. Who carried his grandfather’s prayers like weapons and walked in silence not because he had nothing to say, but because what he said mattered.
He was sacred masculinity. Grounded in responsibility. Steeped in spiritual strength. Woven into the earth like roots too deep to ever tear loose.
She moved faster, harder, her hands braced on his chest, sweat trailing down her spine.
He met her thrust for thrust, his jaw clenched, his gaze never leaving hers.
She fell for him in every thrust.
Every inch.
Every cry.
She fell for the way he wielded strength for the collective good. For his generosity. His quiet fire. His goddamned honor.
Tears blurred her vision.
She didn’t just want to fuck this man.
She wanted to keep him.
Her movements slowed, deepened. She rolled her hips, letting him feel every trembling ounce of her need, letting the rhythm carry her higher. In that motion, the truth built behind her ribs like a storm.
They weren’t just fire and flesh.
They were two halves of a sacred whole.
Ancestors help her, she wanted to be worthy of such a man.
Could she find the courage to go home for him?
Could she face the ruins of her childhood, the shattered pieces of her faith, the guilt of losing Taryn, the shame of abandoning the path?
Could she fit those pieces back together and make them mean something?
If she wanted Bear, she had to go home.
If she wanted to heal, she had to go home.
If she wanted forgiveness, purpose, understanding…
