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“I know, darling.”

His hand slips between us.

I almost collapse.

“There,” he says, voice rough and wrecked. “Come for me.”

His fingers move, and the rhythm of him inside me turns merciless. The pleasure builds fast this time, too much, too bright, the bond dragging every sensation deeper until I don’t know where my body ends and his begins.

For once, that doesn’t scare me.

For once, I let it happen.

I let myself want him.

I let myself need him.

I let the bond carry what I’m too tired to hold alone.

And when the orgasm hits, it tears through me hard enough that I cry out, head dropping forward, my good hand clenching against his chest. Nash catches me with one arm around my waist, holding me steady as my body shakes through it.

He says my name like prayer and profanity combined.

Then he follows.

His hips drive up once, twice, and he comes with a deep, broken groan, his grip tightening, his face pressed to my throat. Heat spills inside me, and the bond flares so bright I see white behind my eyes.

For a second, I swear I feel his wolf brush against mine.

Not taking.

Not claiming without permission.

Just standing beside her.

Waiting.

My wolf steps closer.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t call her back.

Nash’s mouth finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Not the injured side. The other one. His teeth scrape lightly over my skin.

A shiver runs through me.

He stills. “Mia?”

I know what he’s asking.

The claim.

The final step.

The thing I spent years fearing.

The thing that should feel like the end of freedom.

Instead, with him still inside me and his breath rough against my skin and the ring warm on my finger, it feels like the most honest choice I’ve ever made.