“I keep thinking about how close I came to losing you,” he said quietly, his green eyes finding hers across the room. “If I’d been five minutes later, if you hadn’t been strong enough to fight back?—”
“But I was,” Camille interrupted, crossing to kneel before him. Her hands found his, her fingers intertwining with the same natural ease as everything else between them. “And you found me. I never doubted you would.”
“You stabbed him with a fire poker,” Leander said, and something that might have been pride flickered in his expression. “I don’t like that you put yourself at risk, but I understand why you did it.”
“I wasn’t going to just sit there while he threatened my future,” she said simply. “I’ve spent too many years being passive, letting other people make decisions about my life. Today I fought back.”
His thumb traced across her knuckles, the touch reverent. “You’re the strongest person I know. The life you survived, the choices you’ve made to break free from it—I want to give you only safety and softness from now on. A gentle life.”
Camille smiled, the expression carrying heat that made his eyes darken. “What about a life of passion?”
“That too,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.
“Come on,” she said, rising and tugging him toward the en suite bathroom. “Let me clean those wounds properly. You took care of me today—let me take care of you.”
The bathroom was all marble and gleaming fixtures, but Camille only had eyes for the man beside her as she turned on the shower. Steam began to fill the space as they undressed with the easy intimacy of lovers who had already claimed each other completely.
Under the warm spray, Camille took the soft washcloth and gentle soap, beginning the careful process of cleaning the claw marks that decorated his torso. Each touch was reverent, a physical manifestation of the gratitude and love that filled her chest. He had fought for her, bled for her, killed for her—the least she could do was tend the wounds that resulted.
“I love you so much,” she whispered as she worked.
When his wounds were clean and his body washed free of battle, Leander pulled her close. The kiss he gave her was slow and deep, filled with love and relief and the promise of all the tomorrows they’d fought to protect.
The warm water cascaded over them as Leander’s hands framed Camille’s face.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, the words rough against her lips.
“You didn’t,” she whispered back, her own hands sliding over the powerful muscles of his chest. “You never could.”
Then, with a strength that sent a thrill straight through her, he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. Her surprised laugh was swallowed by his mouth as he pressed her back against the cool, wet tile of the shower wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to anchor herself. Themovement brought his hard cock firmly against her core, and she gasped into the kiss, the sudden, delicious friction short-circuiting her thoughts. She pulled back just enough to search his face.
“Are you sure you’re okay for this?” she breathed, her fingers tracing the fresh wounds on his shoulder. “You’re injured.”
A slow smile curved his lips, pure masculine confidence radiating from him. “I’m always okay for this,” he growled, the sound vibrating through her where their bodies met.
It wasn’t about desperation or hunger or bond completion this time. This was about connection. This was about love. This was about reclaiming every stolen moment, every threatened future, and stamping their own defiant ownership on it.
He guided himself to her entrance, his gaze locked on hers. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, and she obeyed, drowning in the green depths.
He pushed inside with a slow, deliberate stroke that made her eyes flutter shut for a second before she forced them open again, wanting to see every flicker of emotion on his face.
He filled her completely, a perfect, stretching fullness that made her gasp. The mate bond thrummed between them, a live wire humming with his fierce protectiveness and her absolute trust, his overwhelming love and her soaring relief. He began to move, establishing a rhythm that was achingly slow and so deep she felt him in her soul.
“Leander,” she moaned, her head tipping back against the tile.
His hips rolled against hers with a controlled power that was utterly maddening. Each withdrawal was a sweet torment, each return a homecoming.
This,she thought, her inner monologue a haze of pleasure and awe.This is what it means to be claimed by an Alpha.Chosen. Treasured. This slowness isn’t hesitation; it’s savoring. He’s reminding us both that I’m here, I’m safe, I’m his.
She wanted to stretch this moment into forever, to live suspended in this perfect intimacy that had nearly been ripped away. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in lightly, wanting to fuse them together. The pleasure built not in a sharp, frantic climb, but in a deep, rolling wave that gathered strength with every measured thrust.
“I can feel you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Everything you are. Your courage. Your fire. Your beautiful mind. It’s all mine.”
“And you’re all mine,” she gasped, the words a truth as fundamental as her own heartbeat.
The wave crested, inevitable and glorious. She tried to hold it back, to linger in the exquisite tension, but her body betrayed her. Her inner walls fluttered, then clenched around him in a powerful, rhythmic pulse. Her orgasm broke over her with a force that was both gentle and devastating, a release of every fear and every tension from the horrific day. A raw cry tore from her throat, lost in the steam.
The sensation of her convulsing around him was his undoing. A guttural groan ripped from his chest as his own control shattered. His thrusts lost their measured pace, becoming deeper, more urgent as his release claimed him. She felt the hot pulse of him deep inside her, his primal claim, and held him tighter as his body shuddered against hers.
