Page 129 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

“You got better ideas,princesa? Or you just his pretty leash?”

Her snarl vibrates against my ribs before I feel it. I squeeze her hand, stepping between them. “You want to swear fealty or poke the wolf who just chewed through half a militia? Choose. Now.”

The missing-fingered woman drops first, knee cracking against gravel. Nikolai hesitates, eyes darting to the crimson streaks painting Kendall’s throat.

She tilts her head, all vicious grace. “We’ve got bourbon at the bunker. And Band-Aids for fragile egos.”

It’s the half-smile that undoes them—the way her hip bumps mine like we’re sharing a filthy joke. I don’t know what has finally broke loose in Kendall, but her claim as a leader has made her somehow more relaxed. I love it.

Nikolai sinks down, forehead almost touching my boot. “Alpha.”

The word tastes like a lie and a vow. Kendall’s thumb traces my wristbone under the sleeve.

“Find Elias,” I growl. “He’ll bunk you in the old mill. We strategize at dawn.”

They melt into the shadows. The second their footsteps fade, Kendall’s breath ghosts my ear. “So when exactly did you plan to tell me we’re nesting leaders?”

I spin her against the nearest oak, my palms caging her hips. Bark crumbles under her grip. “You held my hand like a fucking lifeline. Don’t act brand new. You were made for this, and you know it.”

Her laugh is whiskey-warm with acceptance of who she is. FInally.

I brush her silver streak aside, knuckles skimming the shell of her ear.

Her teeth graze my jugular. “The cabin’s two miles uphill. That is unless you want to bunk with everyone else tonight.”

We run like the forest is giving chase—all snapping branches and stolen breath. She elbows past me at the ridge, her laughter sharp as the wind razzing through the pines.

It's a freedom I've never felt, and I've never seen her enjoy. Not with all that has happened. But now, even if the unknown ahead, for right now, we're free. Together.

Kendall veers left where the dirt path forks, her combat boots skidding on pine needles. Moonlight turns her hair into a comet tail. "Cabin can wait." She heads to the riverbank.

The river's not singing—it’s purring. Phosphorescent algae swirl around our ankles as we stumble to the bank, water glowing like liquid starlight. She collapses against a boulder still warm from yesterday’s sun, yanking me down by my belt loop. My knuckles dig into moss.

“Still got battle stink in your hair,” she mutters, nose scrunched.

I rub a handful of silt between our joined palms. “And you’re crusted in blood and bad decisions.”

She flicks water at me. The droplets catch blue light midair. “You chose me, trusted me to lead in front of a pack of feral dipshits that were only brought together by the promise of war and fear.” Her boot nudges my thigh. “Everyone now knows what I am. What Adora is…”

The truth claws up my throat before I can muzzle it. “And they still bowed down to you and saw you lead them. That means more than the legends of your bloodline. I think their in for a hell of a ride and a lot of them don't want to miss it.”

She gives me a smile and I finally can't hold back anymore.

“I love you.” It comes out in a low throaty affectionate growl.

Her eyes widen for a moment but the smile spreads, but she remains silent.

I tilt her chin up. “Say it back. Or don’t. Doesn’t change the?—”

“I love you. Since before I even knew what it meant.” Her teeth flash. “It scares me and scared me then because I know this is different. This is real. It's?—”

"Forever," I finish.

Our mouths crash. Every battle-scraped inch ignites—her nails raking my nape, my fist twisting in her bloody shirt. She tastes like copper and the river hums louder.

“Here,” she gasps against my lips. “Now.”

Jeans hit the water. My palm slides up her ribcage, catching the underwire of her sports bra. She bites my earlobe. “Rip it.” The fabric shreds—two claw-tipped yanks.

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