Inside my cabin, the wards flare to life with a familiar vibration as the door closes behind us. Lyanna steps into the warm space, the golden glow of lamps catching in her hair.
I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly, her body fitting against mine like she was made for it. Our lips meet in a kiss that starts gently but quickly deepens with a hunger neither of us tries to hide.
She breaks the kiss with a mischievous smile that makes my breath catch. Her fingers find the button of my jeans, working it open with deliberate slowness.
“Tonight, you’re mine,” she murmurs against my lips, her voice carrying that gentle authority that always undoes me. “Letme show you what that means.” Her hands press against my chest, guiding me backward with deliberate intent.
I start to protest—I want to worship her, make her come apart beneath my hands and mouth—but the words die in my throat as she eases me down onto the mattress. There’s something intoxicating about letting her take control, about surrendering to the careful way she tends to me.
She drops gracefully to her knees beside the bed, her emerald eyes never leaving mine as her fingers work at my boots. Each movement is unhurried, purposeful, like she’s performing some sacred ritual rather than simply undressing me. The boots hit the floor with soft thuds, followed by my jeans and briefs sliding down my legs in one smooth motion.
When her fingers finally wrap around my already hard cock, I groan, my head falling back against the pillows. The touch is electric, sending shockwaves through my entire body. “Fuck, Lyanna—“
She looks up at me through those thick lashes, honey-blonde hair catching the lamplight, with that same wicked smile playing at the corners of her lips. It’s a side of her I rarely see—playful, mischievous, completely in her element. Then she lowers her head, and my world narrows to the anticipation of what’s coming.
The first touch of her tongue makes every muscle in my body go taut, a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip that has me gripping the sheets hard enough to tear them. She’s methodical in her exploration, mapping every sensitive spot with the same focused attention she brings to healing.
“You don’t have to—“ I manage to rasp out, but she ignores my half-hearted protest, her attention laser-focused on the sensitive underside of my cock. Her tongue traces patterns that make my hips twitch before she collects the precum beading at the tip with a soft hum of satisfaction.
She works me with devastating precision, watching my reactions like she’s cataloging them for future reference. Every breath that hitches, every involuntary movement—she notices it all, adjusting her technique accordingly. When she finally takes me in her mouth, the wet heat is almost too much to bear. She takes me deeper than I thought possible, her throat relaxing around me in a way that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
My hips buck involuntarily as she hollows her cheeks, the suction sending waves of pleasure racing up my spine. “Lyanna—stop—I’m going to—“
She only hums in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pure electricity through my entire nervous system. Instead of pulling back like I expect, she takes me even deeper, her rhythm becoming more insistent, more demanding. One hand braces against my thigh, while the other works my balls.
“Fuuuck Lyanna,” I growl, more wolf than man.
I’m completely lost, back arched off the bed, every muscle in my body taut and trembling as my control shatters completely.. The pleasure builds to an almost painful crescendo before I come hard down her throat, my back arching off the bed. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. She swallows everything I give her while maintaining that steady, devastating rhythm until I’m completely spent.
When she finally releases me, she looks up with triumph gleaming in eyes gone dark with satisfaction, a wicked smile curving on her lips. There’s something primal about the sight—my composed, diplomatic healer, looking utterly pleased with herself for reducing me to trembling aftershocks.
I growl deep in my chest and pull Lyanna up in one swift motion, tearing at her clothes with a primal urgency I’ve never felt before. Her sweater, jeans, underwear—they land scattered across my cabin as I shed my own shirt, not caring where it falls.
The mate bond pulses between us, a living thing demanding to be acknowledged, completed, snapped into place. My wolf surges forward, desperate to claim her, and I have to wrestle him back down with everything I have. Not yet. Not like this.
“Lyanna,” I rasp, my voice barely human as I lower her to the bed.
I dip my head between her thighs, tasting her with a hungry stroke of my tongue that makes her arch against me. My hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I worship her with my mouth, each flick and swirl drawing soft cries from her lips.
But she’s having none of it. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me up with surprising strength.
“Take me,” she demands, her voice raw with a desperation that matches mine. “Make me yours. Now.”
I raise my head, startled by her urgency. There’s something in her eyes—a certainty, a compulsion that goes beyond desire. Like she’s racing against something I can’t see.
“Are you sure—“
“Now, Callum,” she interrupts, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I don’t question her again. Positioning myself at her entrance, I push forward, groaning as her tight heat envelops me. The sensation is overwhelming—not just physical pleasure, but something deeper, a connection that feels ancient and inevitable.
The bond between us pulses stronger, urging us faster as I begin to move inside her. She takes all of me, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper with each thrust. I feel everything she feels—her pleasure mirroring mine, amplifying it, creating a feedback loop that’s almost too intense to bear.
“Callum,” she gasps, her gaze holding mine with fierce intensity.
Every nerve ending in my body pulses as I bury myself deep inside her, the slick heat of her making my vision blur at the edges. The bond between us throbs like a living thing, wild and demanding. I can feel her—not just physically but through the connection that grows stronger with each thrust—her pleasure amplifying mine until I can’t tell where sensation ends, and magic begins.
“Callum,” she gasps, her fingernails raking down my back, leaving trails of fire I welcome.
