My thrusts were powerful, unrelenting, each one more sure and forceful than the last. Her groans turned frantic, filling the bedroom in raw harmony with the sound of our bodies coming together. Her skin glistened with sweat, a slick sheen that caught the dim light, and the sight of it, the feel of it, the sound of it, pushed me further, drove me harder. My knot swelled, filling her, and I could see her muscles tense, her back arch, her fingers grip the sheets as her breath came in stuttering gasps. I reached around and found her clit, working it in circles that matched the fierce rhythm of the pistoning of my hips. Her voice broke, fierce and raw, as she screamed my name, as I felt her clamp down around me, as her release pulled me deeper inside and held me there.
The room reverberated with it all, every gasp and groan and plunge amplified by the walls and wooden floor. We moved together, and her body was a frenzy of beautiful, unrestrained motion, a perfect counterpoint to the measured strength of mine. The more my knot swelled the more she moaned my name and moved ever so slightly. She was close again, and I knew it. Could feel it. I wanted it. Gentling my hips as much as my knot would allow, I moved in slow, deliberate motions, getting closer to my own release until it hit me like a rush. I came in an avalanche of cum, filling her to overflowing. Her muscles convulsed around my knot, her head thrown back, eyes closed tight as I moved against her, unwilling to stop until she had nothing left to give. Her release came like a breaking wave, pulling me under, pulling me deeper, pulling us both into a blinding, desperate oblivion.
I cradled her in my arms as my knot softened. The room held onto the warmth of us like a secret. Moonlight seeped throughthe curtains, silvering the curve of Juliet’s shoulder where she lay against me, her breath still uneven against my collarbone. I didn’t move at first—couldn’t—not while the weight of her trust settled into my bones like an anchor. But slowly, gently, I untangled myself, pressing a kiss to her temple as she murmured something drowsy and incoherent.
I fetched a cloth from the bathroom linen closet, ran it under warm water until it steamed faintly in my palm. Back beside her, I took my time tracing the lines we’d made together—the flush of her skin, the hitch in her ribs when she sighed under my touch. “Easy,” I whispered as she stirred, cleaning her with a reverence that surprised even me. Her fingers brushed my wrist once, soft as a sigh, before she stilled again.
When I was done, I pulled the quilt over us both and settled her back against my chest, her hair spilling like silk across my arm. She felt smaller like this somehow; not fragile butprecious, something carved from starlight I’d been clumsy enough to catch. My throat tightened as I pressed my lips to the crown of her head.
“You’re…” The words jammed up; too much, always too much when it came to her. But she deserved them anyway. “You’re every brave thing,” I said finally, voice low against her ear. “Every damn time.”
She hummed faintly, turning into me until her forehead met my sternum. “Bronc—”
“No,” I cut in softly, thumb skimming the ridge of her cheekbone. “Let me say it.” The fear of sounding foolish dissolved under the weight of needing her to know. “You fight like hellfire,” I whispered. “Love like a storm.” Her heartbeat answered mine beneath my palm—steady now, but still fierce. Alive. “And you’re mine.”
The declaration hung there a moment before she tilted her chin up to meet my gaze, raw and unguarded in the dark, and kissed me slow enough to steal time itself from around us. When she sank back down against me with a shiver that wasn’t born fromcold or fear but surrender instead. I recognized then and there that I would do everything in my power to keep this woman, my mate, safe from every evil that wanted to harm her. Kill any man or woman who sought to cause her pain. This was my vow.
Chapter 17
Juliet
After days of what I’d dubbed the “wolf flu,” my muscles were useless. I barely managed to roll onto my side on the old leather couch, groaning at the flu-like ache that seemed to tangle into the marrow of my bones. With my legs curled under me and a soft throw pulled around me, I sank further into the soft pillow beneath my elbow. Pearl’s soup simmered in the kitchen. Even in my exhausted haze, I could make out the distinct scent of rosemary and sage drifting through the cabin. Light filtered softly through the windows, turning golden against the warm woods. The low glow added a gentle haze to my already fevered state. Pearl drifted back into the room and traded my sketchbook for a cup of coffee and warm words. I gratefully took the mug from her and held it with both hands. She lightly patted my knee as she gave me one of her looks of encouragement I’d grown to love so much.
“Oh, darlin’. You’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” Her voice was a quiet melody as she sat. “But that hasn’t stopped your wonderful gift has it?” She admired the sketch of the trees and the moon I’d been drawing as she set my sketchbook on the coffee table.
“I’m fine,” I murmured, more out of habit than truth. The warmth of the coffee settled into my bones. “My fingers just itch to draw more sometimesthan others.”
Pearl’s hands, gentle but insistent, pulled the throw further up over my lap. “You have a gift, sweet girl. Several of them, in fact.” She smoothed back the hair that had fallen over my eyes. “Now, I know your shift symptoms have been kickin’ your hiney, but we’ll get some soup in you and it will help. Got to keep your strength up for tomorrow night.”
The mention of the full moon sent a ripple of excitement and anxiety through me, though it was buried beneath the fatigue. “I’ve felt worse,” I managed, though I couldn’t remember when. My fever left my mind a bit fogged and my limbs heavy.
“First change is always hard,” Pearl said, her hand rubbing across my bent leg. Her presence was a steady comfort in the midst of my unsteady state.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m from New York, remember?”
She drew back slightly, her expression equal parts worry and warmth. “Now don’t you give me any lip ‘bout this. You’re not the only girl in the family who had it rough with bein’ different.”
Her words reached through the haze, echoing things we’d spoken about before but never this directly. Pearl had shared stories with me, family lore really, about women who hadn’t known they were shifters and had to face similar situations. They’d survived and thrived.
“Thank you, Pearl.” It was all I could offer. I hated how weak my voice sounded. She kissed the top of my head like a mother to a child, a gesture so foreign it made my eyes sting. I couldn’t remember a time when my mother had ever offered me any type of motherly gesture like this. It wasn’t something I could hide. Pearl sensed it and asked me about my childhood. About my mother.
“My mother is a… difficult woman.” I began. I was honest with Pearl, telling her about what it was like growing up as the daughter of Renda Bettencourt. How there was no room for less than perfection. It seemed like I was telling a fairytale. The poor little rich girl who had everything that money could buy except love and acceptance from the people who should have loved her most. Pearl was such a good listener. She let me tell my entire story all the way to where they basically sold me to Harrison, and I made my escape. I paused as a tear fell down my cheek before I spoke again.
“Thinking about things now, I don’t know if she did the things she did because it’s how she felt, or out of fear of my father.”
“Juliet, we’re your family now.” She said it softly, but her words were steel strong. I felt a knot in my throat, too many emotions choking me at once.
My response, an attempt to voice what this meant, was lost to the roar of Bronc’s Harley as it cut through the stillness outside.
He was a storm through the door, his expression a wild mix of fear and relief when he found me on the couch. “Damn, Juliet.” The words tumbled out in a rush as he crossed the room. His leather cut was cool against my skin when he scooped me into his arms.
“Bronc—”
“You’re burnin’ up.” He touched the back of his hand to my forehead, then pulled me closer, like he thought I might disappear into a puff of smoke. “Thought you said you were fine, woman.”
It should have been a reprimand, but I heard the strain beneath his voice, the raw edge of worry. He had sensed my distress through our bond. His wolf could also feel it when something wasn’t right. I’d known that, but this was the first time I'd seen it laid bare.
Pearl’s gentle laughter cut through the tangle of our words. “Didn’t think I’d let her suffer through this alone, did ya?” She went to the dining table, settling plates and bowls with quiet certainty.
