I lift my head, meeting her gaze fully.
“This? This is it for me,” I say. “You’re it for me.”
Tears shine in her eyes, but she’s smiling.
God, she’s beautiful.
“I choose you,” I tell her. “Every part of you. Every day. For as long as I’ve got.”
Silence hangs between us for a heartbeat.
Two.
Then she leans into me.
And that’s it.
That’s all I need.
I pull her close again, slower this time, more deliberate.
Not frantic.
Not rushed.
Because this?
This matters.
Every touch becomes something more.
Every kiss deeper.
Not just heat.
Not just want.
A connection.
Our matebond.
Like something ancient and powerful rising between us as our beasts settle into each other.
Recognizing.
Accepting.
Claiming.
And when I finally whisper against her lips, “Mine.”
It’s not possession.
It’s promise.
And the way she answers me?
Soft.
