“You’re saying it now.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “That’s what matters.”
He’s quiet for a moment, just holding me, purring. Through the bond, I feel him settling. The jagged edges of his fear smoothing out. The walls finally coming down.
“Sleep,” he says eventually, his voice rough with exhaustion and satisfaction. “I’ve got you.”
I press my face into his chest, breathing in his scent. Pine and woodsmoke mixed with my honey and citrus now. We smell like each other. Like pack.
I close my eyes, feeling him in my chest, warm and steady and finally, finally mine. His purr rumbles through me like a lullaby.
Through the bond, I send him everything I can’t say. My love. My certainty. My promise.
His arms tighten, and I feel his response wash over me. The same. All of it, the same.
For the first time in ten years, I’m exactly where I belong.
I let the sound of his purr carry me under.
Chapter 20
Theo
Headlights sweep across the front window, and I nearly drop the casserole dish I’ve been pretending to dry for the last ten minutes.
“They’re here,” Lucas says from the living room. He’s on his feet before the words finish leaving his mouth.
We meet at the door like idiots, shoulder to shoulder, watching through the glass as Nate’s truck pulls up to the farmhouse. Two days. They’ve been gone two days, and we’ve barely slept, barely eaten, just texted back and forth with Cara getting increasingly cryptic responses.
Things are good.
Really good.
We’ll explain when we get there.
The engine cuts off. Nate steps out first, and even from here, something about him looks different. Looser. Like the iron rod holding his spine straight for the past decade has dissolved.
Then Cara climbs out of the passenger side.
Her scent hits me before she’s even closed the door.
Honey and citrus—that sweetness I’ve been dreaming about for ten years. But underneath it, layered so thick it’s impossibleto miss—pine and woodsmoke.Nate’s scent.All over her. On her skin, in her clothes, like he’s been wrapped around her for days.
“Lucas.” My hand finds his arm, grips hard.
“I smell it.”
They walk toward the house. Cara’s wearing one of Nate’s flannel shirts, sleeves rolled past her wrists, and she’s smiling in a way I haven’t seen since high school. Wide open. Unguarded.
Then she turns her head.
The bite mark on her neck is fresh. Still healing. Red and raised against her skin.
A bond bite.
“Holy shit,” Lucas breathes.
The door opens and her scent floods the entryway—honey and citrus, with Nate’s pine-smoke layered underneath—and my knees nearly buckle. She smells likepack. Like she’s already ours. Like she’s been ours all along and we’re only just now catching up.
“Hi,” she says softly. “We’re back.”
