There’s still so much I need to say.
To explain.
About the bond.About what this means.
That once we do this—truly do this—there’s no turning back.
That we’re bound.Fated.
Marked by the stars, the moon, and every damn instinct I’ve ever had.
But then she reaches up, palms to my cheeks, eyes impossibly wide and soft and sure, and she whispers— “I know.”
She knows.
And that knowing?It breaks something inside me.Some lingering tether of restraint.The bond unfurls like smoke between us—thick and heady and real.
She pulls me down for a kiss, and I go willingly—because there’s nowhere else I ever want to be again.
Her tight heat pulses around my cock, her body already wrapped around me like she was made for this.For me.
And I know she was.
I try to stay still, to memorize the feeling, but I can’t.My hips roll forward.Grind.My body demands more.All of her.
She moans my name like a prayer— “Owen” —and I nearly lose it right there.
“Megan,” I rasp, my voice wrecked and reverent as our foreheads press together.
Our breath mingles.Our souls sync.It’s a rhythm older than the mountains, older than names.
We move together, her body catching and clenching around me like she’s been waiting her whole life for this.For me.
And me?I feel like I’ve known her for centuries.
This isn’t just sex.
It’s a claiming.A communion.
And it’s everything.
“You’re the one,” she gasps, voice breaking like a spell being cast.“Mine.”
And then her eyes roll back—whitening, glowing—and that’s when I feel it.
Not just her body wrapped around me, taking everything I give.
But her mind.Her heart.Her magic—opening for me completely.
“Mate.”
I see her.
Every part of her.
Her pain.Her pride.Her fire.Her need.
And she lets me see it.All of it.
