“Amazingandeasy,” Cody says, and starts to move. “Now I’m really lucky.”
Fucking his mate soon unravels any semblance of control. Cody isn’t a man holding his animal instincts on a leash. He’s simply himself. Tight, precise movements devolve into a roughness that Simon meets with every thrust. Likethey aren’t separate beings anymore—except the perfect bond comes from their differences. Cody was born to fill Simon up with adoration.
He’s so close already. Anticipation coils in his balls, winding throughout his body. His vision blurs until all he sees is Simon. Thin hands splintering the edge of the coffin. Head bowed, baring the back of his neck. All Cody hears is Simon’s undead pulse quickening, almost a living pace.
Simon’s scent is gorgeous. Old blood, new blood, cold and clean, ashes and moonlight. Intoxicating. Cody’s jaw aches as his teeth grow in. No more fighting his wolf. Cody curls over Simon, down on one elbow, barely holding himself up. His clawed fingers gently wind through Simon’s hair.
“Last chance to back out,” Cody says, unafraid of his instincts. He needs Simon to want this.
“That should be my line.” Simon leans into Cody’s grasp, stretching his neck in invitation. “Yes, Cody, please.”
Cody’s teeth sink in easily, where Simon’s left shoulder meets his neck. Two voices rise in a shared moan of pleasure.
“Yes,” Simon breathes again, and Cody’s jaws tighten in response. Simon’s rich, dark blood fills his mouth.
Eyes closed, shrouded in darkness but far from lost, Cody calls on his wolf. This is a transformation, too—of the spirit instead of the body. A sliver of moonlight dances between Cody and Simon, lacing them together.
A ribbon of red shadow follows, twisting ever tighter. The power of Simon’s blood, granting its own gifts. Strength. Immortality. None of them as precious as the smallest hair on Simon’s head.
When the bond settles, Cody will have everything he ever dreamed of. A pack to take refuge with. A mate to protect.
Most importantly, he’ll have Simon, who’s better than any dream. And he’ll have him forever.
Chapter 33
Simon
Simon has been bitten before. Lifetimes ago and an ocean away, he bared his throat for the promise of eternity. It was exhilarating. It was violent. Simon transformed, and for all that happened later, he doesn’t regret accepting the shadow-gift. Not when it led him here.
Cody’s bite is nothing like that memory. His teeth carve Simon’s soul into its truest shape. Not transformative but ascendant. Simon arches into the pain, eyes rolling back with the pleasure. Tension he hadn’t noticed resolves into white-hot bliss.
Loneliness burns away from his cold bones. To Dima, Simon was just the latest toy to play with before discarding. But Cody has chosen Simon above all others. This bite means Simon is special.
Simon isn’t ashamed to need that anymore. He deserves a return on his devotion. His own gift to Cody is selfish, and he isn’t ashamed of that either. The promise of eternity—together.
As the shock of connection eases, Simon revels in the physicality of the moment. The mingled scents of blood and sex. Stubble scrapes his shoulder, and Cody’s thighs stick to the backs of Simon’s. A drop of blood escapes Cody’s lips and races down Simon’s throat.
Each thrust drives Cody’s heavy cock against Simon’s prostate. Not all the sparks coursing through Simon’s veins are magic. Cody growls, the sound reverberating through their joined bodies, and rolls his hips just right.
Simon’s orgasm is almost an afterthought. He surrenders to ecstasy as Cody’s teeth pierce deeper. Shuddering, overwhelmed with the binding, Simon collapses onto the coffin lid.
His pleasure-slack body soars as Cody—his mate—chases his own finish. Shallow, sloppy, precision lost along with composure. With one last thrust, Simon’s guts tingle with the heat of Cody’s release.
Cody slumps over him, a comforting, panting weight. His grip softens in Simon’s hair. Simon loosens his own grip on the coffin lid with effort. He hadn’t noticed the splinter pricks.
The sharper pain of Cody’s unclenching jaw is welcome. Fangs shrink as they withdraw from Simon’s skin. A wet kiss presses beneath Simon’s ear, before Cody’s sweaty forehead rests on his shoulder.
Drops of blood tap the wood beneath him. Simon bleeds slowly by nature, but there will be a mess if he doesn’t put pressure on the wound.
Making a mess sounds fine. As does Cody’s substantial weight—Simon barely needs to breathe anyway. But the wooden edge digging into his thighs is painful in a less sexy way.
“I’m suffocating,” Simon says, the complaint proving the lie.
“Sorry.” Cody kisses his shoulder, then extricates himself from Simon’s body. There’s one aggravating second of absence before Simon straightens and stumbles into Cody’s arms.
Simon’s neck aches. Werewolves don’t heal their bites like vampires, so Simon’s own accelerated healing will have to do the work. The lingering evidence is almost as hot as Cody’s gaze, dark with wonder, like Simon is something miraculous. Cody’s lips, stained with Simon’s blood. Cody’s arms, strong around him.
Cody’s soul, bound forever to his.
