I reach up to trace the strong line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of evening stubble beneath my fingertips. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing softly across my cheekbones as if memorizing every detail.
The connection between us thrums steady and warm—no longer the painful, desperate pull of something unfinished, but the quiet certainty of something whole. Everything we risked, everything we fought for, crystallized into this moment of belonging.
The fire casts golden light across his features as he looks down at me, amber eyes filled with a hunger that matches my own. His fingers thread through my hair as my hands slide up to his shoulders, drawing him closer.
No more courts watching us. No more political pressure. No more impossible choices. Just us, together, in the home we’ve claimed through battle and sacrifice. I rise on my toes as he bends toward me, and we move together with absolute certainty.
Chapter 44
Lyanna
His lips meet mine, and our bond sings between us. It’s not just a physical connection—I feel his desire, his relief, his absolute certainty that this was worth every battle. The kiss deepens, and I taste woodsmoke and something wild that belongs only to him. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as our tongues meet in a slow, unhurried exploration.
His satisfaction radiates through me—the way my body arches toward his, seeking more. His pride in having claimed me, in having fought for us. And beneath the fierce possession, a gentleness in his touch that catches me off guard. This warrior who fights like he was born for violence handles me like I’m something precious.
“I can feel you,” I whisper against his mouth, amazed at the depth of connection. “All of you.”
His hands slide down my sides, following the curve of my waist to my hips. “And I can feel you,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire. “Every thought. Every need.”
When he sinks to his knees before me, my breath catches. This powerful man—wolf, guardian, warrior—kneeling as if in worship. His amber eyes never leave mine as his fingers find the hem of my dress, slowly drawing it upward. The cabin air feels cool against my newly exposed skin, raising goosebumps along my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin just above my knee. His hands move with reverent patience, sliding the fabric higher while his mouth follows, tasting each new inch of revealed skin.
I shiver as pleasure and anticipation coil low in my belly. The dress rises past my hips, and his hands pause, thumbs tracing small circles against my hipbones.
A growl escapes him as he realizes I’m not wearing anything under it. His desire spikes so sharply I gasp.
“You’re trembling,” he says, looking up at me with eyes that glow like embers in the firelight.
“So are you,” I whisper back, feeling the slight tremor in his strong hands.
He smiles then—not the controlled, careful smile I’ve seen him give others, but something raw and honest that transforms his face. My dress whispers over my skin as he continues to remove it, slowly, inch by inch, his breath warm against my stomach as the fabric lifts away.
Impatient now, I reach for the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of them while he shrugs the fabric from his shoulders. The firelight plays across the hard planes of his chest, the scars that map his history as a warrior. We fumble with hispants together, urgent and breathless, until nothing separates us.
When his hands cradle my face, those lust-darkened eyes bore into my own, reflecting firelight and unmasked desire. Need crashes between us—raw, primal, unstoppable.
I feel his restraint unraveling, that careful control he maintains dissolving beneath my touch.
I thrust my tongue deeper into his mouth, claiming him as thoroughly as he’s claimed me. A moan escapes him, vibrating against my lips. The sound travels straight through me, igniting a fire in my core and creating a sudden wetness between my legs.
His hand slides between my legs, calloused fingertips exploring with confident purpose. The contrast undoes me—hands rough from weapons and training, yet impossibly gentle against my most sensitive flesh. When he touches my wet center, my hips buck involuntarily.
“You’ve been having naughty thoughts, Ly?” he asks, voice rough with desire. “You’re soaking wet for me.”
The word “yes” catches in my throat, emerging as a desperate moan. I spread my legs wider, pushing forward against his hand, shameless in my need. His satisfaction at my eagerness pulses through our connection—pride in drawing this response from me.
His fingers continue their teasing exploration as he brings his other hand up to cradle my face. The contrast between gentleness and raw desire in his eyes makes my breath catch. I’m lost in amber depths that seem to glow with inner fire.
When both hands move to my throat, I tilt my head back in surrender, moaning the loss of his hand between my legs, but reveling in every touch nonetheless. His calloused thumbs find that sensitive spot beneath my ears, sending shivers down my spine. The bond between us pulses with each heartbeat, amplifying every sensation.
Slowly, his hands drift lower, following the curve of my neck to my collarbone, then down to my breasts. I gasp at the sensation of his rough skin against my sensitive nipples. They harden instantly under his touch, begging for more attention.
He obliges, lowering his head to take one peak into his mouth, his tongue circling the hardened bud while his hand attends to the other. Each stroke sends lightning through my body. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him against me as pleasure builds.
When he releases my breast and begins to kneel before me again, I almost whimper at the loss. But the sight of him—this powerful warrior, this fierce protector—on his knees before me like a supplicant before a goddess steals my breath entirely.
His lips caress my inner thigh with feather-light pressure, each kiss a burning promise. When his tongue finally slides along my center, my cry echoes through the cabin as pleasure jolts through me like lightning. I press back against the wall, spreading my legs wider, the solid support the only thing keeping me upright as my fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me.
