It’s not painful. It’s precise. A claiming mark placed low, where only someone truly intimate would ever see it. Where it means something.
My breath catches. My heart stops.
A low sound rumbles from his chest, somewhere between a growl and a purr as his scent floods over me, mixing with mine in a heady swirl of heat and home.
The bond flares to life—instant and powerful. I feel him in my chest. In my mind. Every part of me sings with it.
His arms wrap tighter around me as I slump against him, knotted and marked, boneless and blissed-out.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “You’re safe. You’re mine.”
I nod, eyes fluttering closed, my body melting into his.
“I love you,” I murmur.
His arms flex around me.
“I love you too, Willow.”
I don’t remember falling asleep.
But I remember the way he held me, his arms strong and steady. The feel of him still thick inside me, his knot keeping us joined as the bond settled between us.
When I stir, the first thing I feel is his lips against my hair.
Soft. Unhurried.
“Hey,” Hunter whispers.
My lashes flutter open. The sun has shifted slightly, streaking across the bed in late evening rays. We’re still tangled together, skin to skin, the bond humming between us.
“How long was I out?” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes. You were purring like a kitten the whole time.”
I flush, but I don’t pull away.
His hand strokes my back in long, soothing motions. My skin feels hypersensitive, every touch from him sending tingles down my spine—but it’s comforting, not overwhelming. The kind of intimacy I didn’t even know I craved until it was here.
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks quietly, brushing a thumb along my jaw.
“No,” I say, and I mean it. “You didn’t.”
His shoulders ease, a breath of relief slipping out as his eyes flick to my neck. To the mark he left there. Wonder and happiness fill his face as his eyes trace the bite.
“You’re mine,” he says. “Really mine.”
“And you’re mine,” I whisper back, trailing my fingersover his chest. I haven’t marked him yet, but I will. I know I will. Because what we have is forever.
He leans in and kisses me again—gentle this time, all warmth and promise. Then he shifts us carefully, sliding out of me now that his knot has deflated, and I whimper softly at the loss.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, wrapping a blanket around me as he helps me sit up against the pillows.
He’s already on his feet a moment later, pulling up his boxers and jeans—though not buttoning them—moving around the room with quiet purpose. He brings me water first, holding the glass to my lips until I drink. Then he disappears out the door for a moment before he’s back with a warm cloth, gently cleaning between my thighs with so much care it makes my throat tighten.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Shhh,” he cuts in softly. “I want to.”
