Because she knew.
Unlike the previous time, the unintentional accident, this time she was completely keyed in to her body.
This time, it was on purpose.
His fingers dug in as he took several final, hard thrusts before falling still inside her. His breath blew across her bare shoulders, one hand planting on the bed next to hers, fingers lacing while he feathered kisses along her back.
“Yes?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She wanted to cry, to scream—in joy.
In triumph.
Giving a big ole’ middle finger to everyone standing in their way.
She would live. They would live.
Finally, she would embrace it all—the love, the risk, the pain, the joy—and feel it.
Everything.
He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled spooned behind her, the warmth of his body pressed against hers possibly the best feeling in the universe. He nuzzled the nape of her neck, back to her sweet geek, the perfect man for her. “I hope you meant it,” he said.
She smiled. “I did.” She tipped her head back to kiss him. “Hopefully I won’t be so klutzy this time.”
He snorted. “Greatly appreciated.”
“Where are Peyton and Jake?” she asked.
“They’re running an errand,” he said, playing with a lock of her hair, idly wrapping it around his finger. “Mexico.”
“Miranda Segura?”
He nodded. “Handy having a guy who’s fluent in Russian.”
“Carl still doesn’t know?”
“No. Peyton will hand him off to Duncan, and Duncan will go with him to Florida. He’ll work for us as an Enforcer with Carl and Mateo. He’s a shifter and an Alpha. And he’ll be with us when the lab is attacked.”
“‘Us’?”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “The royal us. No, I am not going. Neither are you.”
She relaxed and resisted the ingrained urge to bristle at being restricted in what she could do. Because as much as she wanted to be one of the ones putting her body on the line…
She knew she couldn’t. She would be a distraction to Peyton and the others, and it was a morbid “designated survivor” situation.
She would have to take over as Pack Alpha if something happened to Peyton.
One hand slipped to her tummy, the faint tingle she already felt.
And for that reason, too.
“He’s fluent in Russian,” Ken added. “We apparently only have two other shifters in our whatever the hell we’ll start calling this coalition who can also speak Russian. One of those not very well.”
“Okay,” she quietly said.
He studied her. “No arguments?”
