I take off at a sprint, leading us into the forest depths. Behind me, Kier’s paws thunder against the earth as he gives chase. The familiar trails blur past—streams we leap, logs we vault, rocky inclines that test our agility. With each mile, the tension in my body transforms from anxiety into exhilaration.
This is what I needed. Wild movement. Primal freedom.
When we reach the meadow clearing where the mountain trail begins in earnest, we shift back to human form. Both of us are breathing hard, energized rather than tired.
“Where to now?” Kier asks, his eyes bright with adrenaline.
I point toward the steep path that winds up the rocky face. “The summit. Best view in the territory.”
“Lead the way.”
The climb is challenging even for seasoned wolves, requiring careful placement of paws on the narrow, rocky trail. We ascend in companionable silence, both focused on the technical aspects of the route.
By the time we reach the top, the moon has moved across the sky, bathing everything in silver light. The view from the summit takes Kier’s breath away—I can see it in the way hegoes completely still, drinking in the panorama of forest and mountain that stretches endlessly in every direction.
We shift back to human, standing shoulder to shoulder as we take in the view.
“Now I understand,” he says quietly, his voice full of reverence.
“Understand what?”
“Why you’d fight so hard to protect all this.” He turns to face me, moonlight catching the planes of his face. “This isn’t just about Shadowmist territory, or the pack. It’s about legacy.”
His words pierce straight through my defenses, hitting something deep and vulnerable I rarely let anyone see. He doesn’t just appreciate the view—he comprehends what it represents. I’m a continuum of the generations of wolves who’ve called this home, the blood that’s been spilled to keep it safe. There’s a responsibility that comes with guardianship, one that’s been bred into me and carved into my bones.
When our lips meet, it’s different from the desperate moments we’ve shared before—deeper, more deliberate, full of promise rather than desperation.
My hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer, trying to pour everything I can’t say into this kiss.
I want you. I need you. I’m falling so hard I can’t see the bottom.
The words burn in my throat, but I can’t force them out. Instead, I let my body speak for me, arching against him, my hands mapping the solid strength of his shoulders with desperate reverence.
“Lithia,” he breathes against my mouth, his voice rough with desire. “I need you.”
“Then take me.”
He lowers me gently to the soft grass, his hands reverent as they explore my skin. Every touch sends fire racing through me, and I want to tell him how he makes me feel—safe, wanted, alive in ways I’d forgotten were possible. Butthe words stick in my throat, caught behind walls I’ve spent years building.
So I show him instead. My hands trace the scars that map his chest, my lips following the path, trying to convey through touch what I can’t say aloud.
You’re extraordinary. You make me want to be brave.
“You’re trembling,” he whispers, his golden eyes searching my face with concern.
I am trembling, but not from cold or fear. I’m shaking with the weight of feelings too big for words, with the desperate need to claim this moment, this man, this terrifying hope that maybe I don’t have to face everything alone.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, pressing kisses along my skin. When he reaches the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, I arch beneath him with a soft gasp.
His mouth trails heat along my collarbone, over the swell of my breasts, teasing one nipple into a tight, aching peak before he sucks it deep into his mouth.
I cry out, clutching at his shoulders, gasping his name as his tongue circles, flicks, licks—his hands slipping down to part my thighs.
“Cold?” he asks as I shiver under him.
“No.” I’m shaking from need. From want.
From you.
