He kissed her harder.
The bond pulsed between them, feeding their pleasure back and forth until he couldn't determine where his sensation ended and hers began. He thrust harder, deeper, chasing the edge they were both climbing toward.
Her hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit. She worked herself while he fucked her, their movements synchronized by the bond. He could feel how close she was, feel her pleasure building like his own.
"Come with me," he said. "Together."
"Together," she agreed.
His hand found her hip, nails extending to claws. He scratched deep, marking her there too. Four lines that would scar white against her skin. Physical evidence of his claiming.
The combination of bite and scratch and the bond sealing pushed them both over the edge.
She came first, her body clenching around him like a vice. He followed immediately, his release tearing through him with force that made his vision white out. His hips jerked, driving deep as he spilled inside her. The bond flared brilliant, sealing completely, locking them together in a way that mattered.
He collapsed on top of her, careful not to crush her, and buried his face in her neck. His mark stood out clearly, already starting to scar silver. His mate. His forever.
Her arms came around him, holding tight. Her shadows settled against his skin, content and purring.
"I can feel you," she whispered. "Inside my head. Your emotions."
"That's the bond. It'll fade to background noise eventually. But it never goes away completely." He lifted his head to look at her. "You okay with that? Having me in your head forever?"
"More than okay." She smiled, bright and genuine. "I love you."
"I love you too." He kissed her softly.
As their breathing slowed and the bond settled into something warm and constant on a quiet Christmas Eve, peace finally, truly found Tristan.
37
MAREN
Maren woke to winter sunlight and the steady rhythm of Tristan's breathing.
The mate bond was a steady vibration between them, warm and constant. She could feel him even before opening her eyes, sense his contentment, his awareness that she was awake. The connection had settled overnight from overwhelming to comfortable, like a second heartbeat she'd always carried but never noticed.
Her shadows stirred lazily across the cabin floor, different than they'd been yesterday. Softer somehow, the sharp edges smoothed. But stronger too, more certain in their movements. Like they'd found anchor after years of drifting.
"Morning," Tristan said without opening his eyes. "I can feel you thinking."
"Is that going to be a thing now? You knowing what I'm thinking?"
"More like sensing your mood. The details are still yours." He finally looked at her, blue eyes clear in the morning light. "How do you feel?"
Maren took inventory. The mark on her neck was tender but not painful. The scratches on her hip had already started healing, shifter saliva having properties her human blood appreciated. And the spell-circle over Tristan's heart pulsed faintly against her awareness, tethering her to him.
"Complete," she said finally. "Like something I didn't know was missing just clicked into place."
"Good." He pulled her closer, mindful of lingering soreness. "That's how it should feel."
They lay quiet for a while, watching snow fall past the window. Christmas morning in Hollow Oak meant the town would be gathering in the square for the market and festivities. Maren had avoided it the past two years, too aware of how unwelcome her presence would be.
But things were different now. The locket was destroyed. The truth was public. And she wore Tristan's mark openly, declaring to anyone who looked that she belonged here.
"We should go," she said. "To the market."
"You sure? We could stay here. Avoid the crowds."
