Maren stood in the warm chaos and felt it settle into her bones. This was family. Chosen, earned, fought for. Not bound by blood but by choice and trust and standing together when things got hard.
Her shadows curled contentedly around Tristan's ankles where he stood talking with Emmett. The bond hummed steady between them. And for the first time in her life, Maren didn't feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She was exactly where she belonged.
39
TRISTAN
Tristan carried his wife over the threshold while snow fell steadily beyond the door.
Maren laughed as he set her down, the sound bright and genuine. "That was very traditional of you."
"I have my moments." He locked the door, threw the bolt. The cabin was warm, fire already burning from when he'd prepared it that afternoon. Candles lit across surfaces, casting everything in gold and shadow.
"You planned this." She turned slowly, taking in the flowers arranged in mismatched jars, the blankets spread near the hearth, the wine breathing on the table.
"I planned to bring my wife home properly." He moved behind her, hands finding her waist. "Is that okay?"
"More than okay." She leaned back against him. "It's perfect."
He kissed her neck, just below his mark. She shivered, tilting her head to give him better access. Her shadows moved across the floor, relaxed and content.
"The gown is beautiful," he said against her skin. "But I've been thinking about taking it off since I saw you in it."
"Have you?"
"Every minute. Wondering what you're wearing underneath. If you're wearing anything at all." His hands slid up her ribs, feeling her breath catch. "Want to tell me?"
"Why don't you find out?"
He turned her to face him, capturing her mouth in a kiss that started gentle but turned hungry fast. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. The bond pulsed between them, feeding their desire back and forth until he couldn't tell where his want ended and hers began.
He found the ties holding the gown closed, working them free with deliberate slowness. The silk parted, revealing skin and the curve of her breasts barely contained by black lace. His cock hardened immediately, pressing against his pants.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You wore this under the gown all night?"
"I wanted you to have something to unwrap." She pushed the gown off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. Black lace covered her breasts and the apex of her thighs, but barely. He could see the shadow of her nipples, the slit between her legs.
"Come here." His voice came out rough.
She stepped over the discarded gown, moving into his space. He cupped her breasts through lace, feeling her nipples harden under his palms. She made a sound that went straight to his cock.
"Bedroom or here?" he asked.
"Here. I want to see firelight on your skin."
He stripped quickly, letting her watch. Her gaze tracked over his chest, lingering on the spell-circle that marked him as hers. When he pushed down his pants, his cock was already hard and aching.
She licked her lips. "I'll never get tired of seeing you like this."
"Good. Because I plan on being naked around you as often as possible." He pulled her down to the blankets, settling her on her back. "Now let me see what else you're hiding."
He traced the edge of lace covering her breasts, not quite touching skin. She arched into the touch, seeking more. He made her wait, made her ask for it.
"Tristan, please."
"Please what?"
