"And how long until Logan gets back?"
"Forty minutes. Maybe more."
She nods, then shifts in my lap so she's straddling me. The movement makes my breath catch, especially when she grinds down just slightly.
"That's enough time," she says.
"Savannah..."
"I need you again," she interrupts. "Please. The heat's coming back, and I need... I need you to take care of it."
How am I supposed to say no to that? Especially when every instinct I have is screaming at me to claim her again, to mark her so thoroughly that no other alpha will ever question who she belongs to.
"Xavier," I say without taking my eyes off Savannah.
"I'm watching the door," he replies, understanding immediately. "Take care of her."
Permission granted. Not that I really needed it, but it's good to know he's got our backs.
Savannah is already tugging at my belt, hands urgent and demanding. The heat is hitting her faster this time, probably because her system is already primed from before. Her scent isgetting stronger by the second, sweet and musky and absolutely intoxicating.
I grab her wrists, stilling her movements. "Slow down," I tell her. "We've got time."
She whimpers, a soft sound of frustration. "It's building so fast. I need..."
"I know what you need." I release her wrists and cup her face instead, thumbs stroking over her flushed cheeks. "And I'm going to give it to you. But we're going to do this right."
I pull her close and set her down hard on the couch in the basement. It’s cold and cracked, but I don’t give a damn. This is where she’s mine. I grab her hips, my hands rough and claiming, and press her body against mine. She doesn’t resist. She wants this as much as I do.
My mouth crushes against her neck, biting with purpose. Not out of cruelty, but because I need to taste her, mark her, make sure she knows she’s mine. The copper tang of her blood fills my senses and fires something fierce inside me from when I bit her. I growl low in my throat and pull back just enough to stare into her eyes. They’re wet, trust shining in them, and it twists something deep inside me.
I cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek as I drag her shirt up and over her head. Her skin is flushed and trembling beneath my touch. I don’t waste time with light kisses. I need to feel her respond, to hear her breath catch, to see her burn for me.
“Savannah,” I growl her name like a promise and a warning. “Right now you’re mine.”
I don’t soften. I grip her hips tighter, dragging her down so she’s lying back on the couch, raw and exposed under the single, flickering bulb. The storm outside beats harder against the windows, but inside this concrete room, the only thunder is between us.
I slide inside her slowly. Every movement is deliberate and heavy with meaning. The knot presses deep inside, a burning weight that locks us together. Her body tightens around me. She clenches every muscle, and it feels like she is holding onto me just as much as I am holding onto her.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck. I breathe in the scent of her skin and the steady pulse of her heartbeat under my lips. A low, rough growl rumbles in my chest. It is the sound of claiming, protecting, and possessing all at once.
She shivers beneath me. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Griff.”
The sound breaks the silence. I tighten my hold on her. “I’m here,” I murmur against her skin. My voice is thick with something fierce and deep. “You are mine.”
Her breath catches. She presses closer to me as if she wants to disappear inside me and never come up for air. I feel the heat radiating off her. The ache pulses between us. It is wild and urgent.
Every second feels stretched out, slow and heavy, full of tension and something unspoken. Neither of us needs to say more.
We are caught in this moment. Raw. Tangled. Burning.
36
XAVIER
The basement feels like a bunker carved from concrete and shadows. One bare bulb hangs overhead, casting harsh light across the old couch pushed against the far wall where Griffin has Savannah pinned beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he moves inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts.
From my position by the door, knife ready, I can see everything. Her flushed skin glistening with sweat, the arch of her back as she meets his rhythm, the soft cries that escape her lips with each deep stroke. The scent of her heat fills the room like incense, vanilla bourbon layered with musk and the claims already marked on her throat.
