With a hunter’s efficiency, he removed every scrap of her clothes, eyes gleaming with each piece of revealed flesh. She didn’t feel shy at all as his eyes roved her naked body. In fact, she reveled in it, hands moving to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples, showing him exactly what he did to her.
He fell forward, just catching his weight on his forearms before he crushed her, and she clung to his shoulders as he ravaged her mouth. Her trembling thighs strained further apart as the thick head of his cock nudged at her entrance.
He paused, forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. He did not look away as he pushed forward into her, every inch of him barely restrained power, even in his weakened state.
She wanted him. She wanted all of him. She wanted him tolet go.
With a whimper, she let her head fall back, revealing the bite on her neck to his gaze. He growled, the sound vibrating through her, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin of her throat as if seeking to claim her all over again.
She would let him. And she would claim him right back. Every time. Always.
He thrusted harder, hips snapping against hers, every movement setting her nerves alight with blinding pleasure. His teeth moved lower, catching a nipple and biting hard enough that pain mingled with ecstasy and transformed it into something greater.
Moans and yelps fell from her lips; she was helpless to stop them as he increased his pace. Delicious pleasure built up deep in her core, and she felt herself falling further and further.
He was everything. The salt scent of his skin. The deep growls of his pleasure. The thrum of his body moving against hers with electric sparks. She wanted to lose herself in him, to stay wrapped in such delicious agony for eternity.
His teeth found her neck again, and she came hard, shouting his name as she convulsed around him, her orgasm ricocheting through her in wave after wave.
He soon followed, roaring his release into the soft skin of her shoulder, muscles bunching and hands fisting into the sheets.
They lay in the delicious afterglow, their heartbeats melted into one, and Dani nestled into him. He held her close, eyes fluttering shut.
She, too, allowed herself to close her eyes and slip away into sleep, safe in her mate’s arms.
Epilogue - Arthur
The snow always wiped everything clean.
It wasn’t the heavy kind that buried cars and swallowed rooftops, just a soft, steady dusting that sifted down over Skymist like ash, muting sound and temper alike. It settled on the rooftops, the stretch of beach, the pine boughs bending under winter’s early promise. The town had survived the battle. Its people now live in the fragile, humming afterward.
Dani stood on the balcony of the alpha house, Aurelia’s scarf wrapped twice around her neck, watching the wolves gather in the square below. Nordan wolves, Arthur’s pack, clustered by the bonfire pit Chase had cleared. Across from them stood the Volkhov, unmistakable in their dark coats. And behind them, slightly to the left, the Severney, Rory’s wolves, quieter, eyes alert.
And among them, moving like a quiet flame between bodies, were the witches.
Her coven. Juneau’s coven. What remained of the nomads. And, now, Thistlehouse’s unofficial addition: Layla, openly a witch.
A week. It had only been a week since the hybrids struck. Since Fenred’s betrayal. Since the battle in the woods that changed everything.
Since Arthur shifted into something new.
Dani still dreamed about it, his roar splitting the clearing, ice blooming beneath his paws, the way the hybrids stopped, just for a fraction of a heartbeat.
A week, and the world had rearranged itself.
A soft creak behind her.
She didn’t need to turn to know Arthur had stepped out onto the balcony. The bond tugged gently, a warm thread just below her ribs.
“They’re gathering early,” she murmured.
“They want to show unity,” Arthur said, coming to stand beside her. His coat brushed her sleeve. “Or they want to glare at each other before Dominic forces them to sit at the same table. Either way, it saves time.”
She lifted her gaze to the square. Layla stood there with Dominic at her side, both bundled against the cold. Dominic looked like he was holding himself together by pure willpower after a week of nonstop diplomacy. Layla looked…steady. Tired, but steady.
Witch and alpha.
She wondered if the covens were whispering about her the same way the packs whispered about Layla.
