“Hi.” Her voice carried the same breathless quality from their phone call, and he could hear her pulse racing from where he stood.
“Hello, Electra.” He stepped back, gesturing her inside. “Come in. Dinner’s ready.”
She crossed the threshold, and his wolf rose instantly with a bone-deep recognition that made his knees nearly buckle.
Mine. Home.The words echoed through every cell in his body.
This was where she belonged. In his space, surrounded by his scent, close enough that he could protect her from anything that might threaten her. The certainty was so absolute it bypassed every rational thought and struck directly at his core.
He forced himself to breathe through the surge of possessive need as she stepped fully into his living room. Her scent—jasmine and vanilla and something uniquely her—wove through the air, threading into every corner of the cabin.
The space felt different with her in it. Warmer and fuller. Charged with an energy that had been missing for longer than he cared to admit.
She was looking around, taking in the careful order of his home. No clutter. No excess. Everything functional and purposeful, from the dark leather furniture to the stone fireplace that dominated one wall. No trophies or personal mementos that might reveal too much about the man who lived here.
It struck him with unexpected force that she was seeinghim—not the Alpha who commanded respect through authority, not the Sheriff who maintained order through discipline, but the man who lived alone in this carefully controlled space. The realization felt more intimate than he’d anticipated.
“This way.”
He guided her toward the dining room, his hand hovering near her back without quite touching. Even that closeness sent heat shooting through his system.
Rune pulled out her chair with deliberate care, waiting until she settled before pushing it gently back to the table. The simple courtesy felt weighted with significance—a gesture of care that he hoped she’d recognize without reading too much into it.
“This looks incredible,” she said, her eyes taking in the steaming plates and warm bread he’d set out. “I’m absolutely starved.”
“Well, dig in.” He took his seat across from her. “I wanted to make you some real comfort food. I know the past week has been...”
“Overwhelming?” She supplied the word with a wry smile.
“I was going to say difficult.” He kept his voice gentle. “I know what I told you was a lot to process.”
Rune watched the delicate tracing of Electra’s fingers along the edge of her napkin. “It was a lot, Rune. Wolf shifters. Packs. And me… your fated mate.” She met his gaze, her green eyes wide and vulnerable. “I’ve been… frozen. Like my brain just shut down. I couldn’t write. Could barely think. This morning…” She swallowed hard. “This morning, I almost called Cosette. Almost packed the car and headed back to Hartford. Almost threw in the towel on everything.”
Each admission was a knife twisting in Rune’s gut. His wolf snarled at the thought of her leaving, of the distance stretching back out between them. He kept his hands clenched on his thighs beneath the table, forcing stillness into his frame.
“But then…” Her voice softened, a tremor running through it. “I thought of you. Of what you said. About this… connection. And I couldn’t picture leaving. Couldn’t picture not having you… close.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m terrified, Rune. Completely out of my depth. But the thought of walking away felt worse.”
Relief, fierce and primal, surged through him, momentarily robbing him of breath. It wasn’t acceptance, not yet, but it wasn’t rejection. It was a fragile thread of hope.
“Electra,” his voice was thick with the emotion he usually locked away. “I won’t rush you. I won’t force a single damn thing you’re not ready for. Just… stay here. With me. That’s all I need.” He leaned forward slightly, the polished wood of the table cool beneath his forearms. “These past seven days…” He shook his head, the words inadequate. “They were hell. Empty. Knowing you were so close, hurting, and I couldn’t…”
“I needed you too,” she whispered, the confession seeming to surprise her as much as it did him. Her gaze lifted, locking onto his. The fear was still there, but beneath it, a spark of the fierce woman he’d first pulled over. “I felt… untethered. Lost.”
Then she moved. Not with hesitation, but with a sudden, decisive grace. Her hand reached across the table, not for his hand, but for the fabric of his henley collar. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton.
Rune went utterly still. His wolf howled its approval, a savage sound trapped in his chest. He held himself rigid, giving her that crucial second to reclaim the choice. His entire existence narrowed to the pressure of her fingers on his collar, the determined set of her jaw, and the turbulent green of her eyes.
She didn’t pull away though. She pulled harder.
He met her halfway, leaning across the table as she yanked him closer. Dishes clattered, and a spoon skittered onto the floor. Their lips crashed together not in tentative exploration, but in a collision of pent-up longing and raw hunger. Her mouth was soft and demanding against his.
Mine. Finally.
The kiss deepened, a frantic tangle of lips and tongues and shared breath. Rational thought evaporated. His hands found her waist, large and possessive, and he hauled her body across the scattered remnants of their meal. Plates shifted, a glass tipped over, spilling water onto the wood. He settled her weight firmly in his lap, her sundress riding up her thighs. The feel of her, warm and pliant against the growing hardness straining against his jeans, was exquisite torture.
Her hands were already at his chest, pushing the henley up. He broke the kiss long enough to yank it over his head, tossing it aside. Her sharp intake of breath as her palms met his bare skin sent another jolt of pure need through him. Her touch was fire and reverence, mapping the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, and the scars earned in pack skirmishes.
Need her closer. Need her bare.
