Page 47 of Bonds of Fate

Got you now, you wily bastard.

Leo meets him halfway, his touch firm but steady as he guides Rowan back to the nest.

And then—holy shit.

Grayson is there, of course, but also Finn.

Rowan had completely missed him. Finn is curled up in the corner of the bed, buried beneath every pillow in the nest, sound asleep.

His beta guides him down until he’s perched on the edge of the sunken nest, feet on the mattress, before going to his knees. “Look at how good you are, Ro.”

Leo’s nails scratch lightly along the inside of his thighs, and Rowan, still holding on to some control, threads his fingers gently through Leo’s hair.

The desire he felt for his omega hasn’t faded—it’s still there, simmering beneath his skin—but now, it’s tinged with loneliness.

He misses Nix.

His laugh. His gentle hands. His quick wit and that smart mouth.

But it’s Rowan, the man who aches for him.

Because his wolf is quiet.

“It’ll be okay, Ro. You’re almost there, maybe today, even. You were so good out there. Let me help you.” There’s a fragrant cinnamon scent growing, and together with his own spiced rum, it makes Rowan’s mouth water.

“No. You.”

Rowan flips a surprised Leo onto his back, then kisses him sweetly, savoring his delicious mouth.

So handsome.

Leo’s head lands hard on Grayson’s thigh, the impact jolting Grayson awake with a startled blink.

“Gray hands. Please.”

Leo loves to be held down—loves to fight against it, to strain just enough to feel it.

Grayson doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold, unyielding—just the way Leo likes it.

When his beta’s hands are held firm, Rowan shows his appreciation—nipping and biting at his collarbones and his jaw.

He’s rewarded with low, breathy groans.

And still, his wolf remains quiet.

Rowan leans back on his heels, lifting Leo’s leg, he presses a kiss to Leo’s ankle. Then, the back of his knee.

He drags the flat of his tongue up the inside of his thigh, just to hear him sigh before nipping at Jay’s bond bite, relishing the way Leo shudders beneath him.

Placing his foot gently back on the bed, Rowan moves up—laving each nipple, biting down as hard as he dares.

Leo squirms, chasing friction against his cock.

And still—his wolf is quiet.

Rowan runs his nails up and down Leo’s sides, slow and deliberate, as he licks and bites at his soft, sweet navel.

Leo twists in Grayson’s grip, but he’s held firm.

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