When I reluctantly open my eyes, Rowan is staring at me with such intensity that I look away instinctively. But there's nothing in his gaze but wonder and… want.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing the silvered edges of my scars with reverent fingertips. "You are so fucking beautiful. My mate."
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. Through our bond, I can feel his genuine appreciation, his desire. Not in spite of my scars, but somehow inclusive of them.
I donotfucking understand.
But behind him, I hear a collective intake of breath from the others. Not regret, either. Not even close.
"Perfect," Killian says from the edge of the nest.
"Told you," Sean adds, his voice unusually soft.
Micah says nothing, but he doesn't need to. The wave of adoration that flows from him through our bond says it all.
Fuck, these wolves will be the death of me.
Rowan leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. But I don't. Instead, I meet him halfway, our lips connecting in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. His hands slide into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he explores my mouth.
I have to fight to resist the urge to turn my face when his lips brush the torn corner of my lips, and I let out a soft, nervous sound that's embarrassingly close to a whimper.
He tastes like coffee and mint, clean and crisp. His scent envelops me, old books and sandalwood. I've come to associate that scent with safety, with home.
When we finally break apart, his eyes have darkened to the color of rich soil after rain. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you," he admits, his voice a bit rough.
"Worth the wait?" I ask, surprising myself with my teasing tone that isn't as self-deprecating as it usually would be.
His answering smile is slow and promising. "Worth everything, gorgeous."
With deliberate movements, he begins to undress me. First my sweater, lifted over my head and set aside with care. Then my jeans, eased down my legs as I step out of them. Each newly exposed inch of skin receives his attention. A brush of fingertips, a press of lips, a whispered word of appreciation like he wants to learn and map every part of me.
"You have a freckle here," he murmurs, pressing his lips to a spot just below my collarbone. "And here." Another kiss, this time to my ribs.
By the time I'm standing before him in just my underwear, my body is like a live wire, sparking at his every touch. I reach for him, tugging at his shirt. "Your turn."
He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal a torso that's leaner than Killian's but no less defined. Where Killian is all raw power, Rowan is elegant strength, his toned muscles flowing smoothly beneath his bronze skin. I trace the contours of his chest, marveling at the contrast between his controlled exterior and the heat I can feel building within him.
The rest of his clothes follow quickly, both of us growing more impatient with each piece of fabric that hits the floor of the nest. When we're finally skin to skin, his hardness pressing insistently against my stomach, separated only by my panties, he guides me down onto the blankets with gentle hands.
"Let me see all of you," he murmurs, positioning himself between my thighs.
I lay back, exposed and vulnerable, but not the way I'm used to.Thistype of vulnerability is thrilling. Rowan's gaze travels over my body and his hands tighten on my hips, like he's having to resist diving in. He pulls off my underwear with the same methodical care he's shown throughout, folding them neatly and setting them aside.
I freeze. "Did you just… fold my panties?"
He looks down at myveryfolded panties and laughs awkwardly. I hear a snicker in the background—Sean's—that reminds me the others are nearby even if they're giving us space.
"I, uh, guess I did."
I can't help but laugh, reaching up to stroke his hair back from his face. "You're fucking adorable."
He blows a puff of air through his lips. "That's what every alpha shifter is aiming for. Adorable."
"Well, it should be," I assure him, kissing him again. He deepens it, the kiss intensifying until I can tell all is forgiven.
Then he lowers his head, and all coherent thought flees as his mouth finds me. His tongue traces patterns that make my back arch and my fingers clutch at the blankets beneath me. Unlike Killian's raw hunger or Sean's playful enthusiasm, Rowanapproaches this like everything else, with attention to detail and an almost academic thoroughness.
He learns my body with the same focus he might apply to studying an ancient text, noting each gasp and shudder, each place that makes me moan. And when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, he returns to it again and again. His tongue swirls around my clit in circles, then flattens to lick a long, slow stripe from my entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves.
