He stood, lifting her easily. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist as he turned and deposited her squarely on thecleared section of the dining table. With deliberate slowness, his hands found the straps of her dress, pushing them down her shoulders. The fabric slid lower, catching for a moment on the swell of her breasts before pooling at her waist.
Her breasts were perfectly full, tipped with dark peaks already hardened. He bent his head, capturing one tight nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.
Tastes like sunlight and honey.
He worshipped her breasts, licking, sucking, nipping gently, drawing gasps and moans that vibrated against his lips. His hands slid lower, finding the waistband of her panties. He hooked his thumbs and drew them down her legs, his knuckles grazing the soft skin of her inner thighs. She lifted her hips to help him, kicking them off. Now she lay bare before him on his table, flushed and breathing hard, a feast offered only to him. The sight punched the air from his lungs.
She was magnificent.
Her own hand was already at the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly in her urgency. He helped her, shoving them and his boxers down his hips in one rough movement. His large cock sprang free, thick and throbbing with need. Her eyes widened, a flicker of awe in the sea of desire.
“Rune…”
He stepped closer, positioning himself between her thighs. The head of his cock nudged against her slick heat. She was drenched, ready for him. The primal scent of her arousal filled the air, driving his wolf wild.
“I want you.” Her voice was breathless but certain. “Now.”
He didn’t hesitate. He pushed in slowly, agonizingly slowly, giving her body time to stretch, to accommodate his size. Inch by thick inch, he sank into her molten heat, the tight, wet clasp of her body stealing his breath. Her head fell back, a low, keeningmoan escaping her lips as he seated himself fully, buried to the hilt. She felt perfect.
Destined.
“God, Electra…” he growled low, fighting the urge to pound into her immediately.
He held still for a heartbeat, letting her adjust, feeling the tremors run through her body. Then he began to move. Slow, deliberate thrusts, withdrawing almost completely before surging back in, deep and claiming. Her inner muscles clenched around him, drawing a ragged groan from his chest.
The table creaked beneath them in protest.
“More,” she pleaded, her hips lifting to meet his next thrust. “Faster, Rune. Please.”
His control snapped. He drove into her, setting a relentless, pounding rhythm. The table protested louder, rocking with their combined movements. Her cries filled the cabin, sharp gasps and breathless moans that spurred him on.
He bent his head and captured her mouth again, swallowing her sounds. The mate bond pulsed between them, a living current of heat and connection, amplifying every sensation and every shared breath. He felt her body tightening, coiling like a spring.
“Come for me,” he commanded against her mouth, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, aimed deep.
She finally shattered. Her body convulsed around him, her inner walls clamping down in rhythmic pulses, milking his cock. A raw cry tore from her throat as the orgasm ripped through her, shaking her from head to toe. The sheer force of her release, the feel of her clenching around him, tore his own control to shreds.
With a roar that was part man, part wolf, his hips slammed forward one final time, burying himself to the root as his own climax detonated. Hot seed pulsed deep into her, claiming herbody, but consciously and fiercely, he held back the primal urge to mark, to bind her soul to his in that moment.
Not yet.
The restraint was a physical ache as his body shuddered from the force of his climax. That denial to complete the mate bond cost him more than any battle wound, but it mattered. This was about her trust and her choice.
He collapsed over her, his forehead pressed to hers. Both of them gasped for air, their sweat-slicked skin pressing together and their hearts hammering a frantic rhythm against each other’s chests. The mate bond hummed, a warm, satisfied thrum in his veins, content for now.
Gently, careful of her boneless state, he lifted her from the table. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. He carried her through the quiet cabin to his bedroom. He laid her down on the cool sheets and slid in beside her, pulling her back firmly against his chest, her curves nestled perfectly into the hard planes of his body.
The frantic energy of passion ebbed, replaced by a profound, settled quiet. Rune was hyper-aware of every detail: the soft rhythm of her breathing against his arm, the warm weight of her body, and the faint scent of jasmine and sex mingling with his own pine and spice.
The cabin itself felt different. Solid, grounded, as if a fundamental piece, missing for decades, had finally slotted into place.
He knew this hadn’t magically solved everything. If anything, it only made the threat of Birch inevitable and the pack politics of a human mate more pressing.
But something had shifted. She had been drowning, ready to flee everything, including herself. And in that moment of terror, she had reached for him. She had chosen to trust him with her body, with this fragile beginning. She had chosen him. Not outof obligation to some bond, but out of her own desire. She had looked at the Alpha, the wolf, the complication, and chosen to stay.
The fierce, possessive joy that bloomed in his chest was tempered only by the fierce, protective vow that followed. He would guard this trust with his life. He would be patient. He would wait for her to choose the mate bond itself, when she was ready. Until then, he would be her shelter, her strength, and he would never again let her suffer alone in the dark.
The wait, however long, would be worth it. She was here. She was his. For now, that was everything.
