Page 66 of Fated
The room erupted—hands clapping or striking tables, voices rising, even howls sounding from the younger wolves. The cacophony vibrated through the wooden floors and rattled the ancient rafters, affirming with sound what Caleb had built with words.
As the pack dispersed to enjoy their meal, the dining hall filled with renewed chatter and the scrape of plates. Caleb felt Asher’s hand on his arm, the touch as familiar as his own heartbeat.
“You did good.” Asher leaned close, pride warming his voice.
Caleb glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Wedid good,” he corrected, gaze lingering on Asher for a moment longer than necessary.
Fenrir rumbled contentedly within, equally soothed by their beta’s closeness.
The dining hall buzzed with laughter, the pack’s energy vibrant and alive. Caleb felt measured peace settle over him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn’t face them alone.
Later, as the packhouse quieted, Caleb and Asher retreated to their shared suite. The fire crackled, casting shadows across familiar comforts—worn leather armchairs, a heavy wooden chest carved with pack symbols, their bed marked by a decade of shared intimacy. They lay tangled together, scents mingling in the quiet space.
“How was your run?” Asher’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Caleb’s chest. Beneath the question, Caleb caught the subtle scent of worry masked with a hint of teasing. “Did you howl at the moon without me again?”
The gentle ribbing—their private joke about Caleb’s tendency toward solemnity—eased something in his chest even as he prepared to share Fenrir’s revelation.
“Good. I went to the sanctum. Fenrir spoke to me.”
Asher shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, his full attention focused on Caleb. The beta’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a tell Caleb had learned to recognize years ago. Fear—not for himself, but for whatever discovery lay ahead.
“What did he say?” Asher’s voice remained steady, but his fingers had stilled against Caleb’s skin.
Caleb’s hand found Asher’s in the dim light. “He said…mate will be with us soon.”
The words hung between them, frost forming on each syllable. Goosebumps prickled across Caleb’s skin as his gaze snagged on shadows gathering in the corner.
“I don’t know what it means—for the pack, for us.” His voice emerged thin as spider silk. His hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed with deliberate effort. “It’s just...” He swallowed as Fenrir paced their internal territory, each restless circuit pumping adrenaline into Caleb’s bloodstream. His hairline dampened, and his pulse fluttered against his skin like a trapped bird. “So much is happening at once.”
Asher reached for him. “Hey,” he said softly, scent wrapping around Caleb like a familiar blanket. “Whatever happens, I’m here. Always. You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Trust Fenrir to guide you when the time comes.”
Caleb turned to meet Asher’s gaze, his rising anxiety dissolving under the strength he saw there. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The admission scraped his throat raw.
“You won’t have to,” Asher murmured, leaning in to brush a soft kiss against Caleb’s lips.
The kiss transformed, comfort dissolving into an ancient language spoken only between them, syllables of breath and pressure instead of words. Each press of lips carried a lifetime of history—arguments and reconciliations, triumphs and failures, all woven into the fabric of who they were together.
Caleb felt the shift within himself: control surrendering, freedom finding him as Asher guided him onto his back. The cool fabric of the sheets beneath him contrasted with the warmth radiating from Asher’s body as he hovered over him.
Their wolves awoke with shared desire, adding a primal layer to each sensation. Their mingled scents changed like weather, trust and longing crystallizing into something sharper, more urgent.
Asher mapped Caleb’s body like territory both conquered and cherished. As if his hands were cataloguing a decade’s changes—the new scar below his ribs, the strengthened muscle along his flank, the sensitive hollow where neck met shoulder that still made him gasp. His touch was methodical, grounding Caleb in the present while igniting a fire that burned away his doubts and fears.
Caleb’s chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths sharp and uneven as Asher’s lips traveled from his mouth to his jaw, then down the column of his neck. Where Asher’s mouth roamed, Caleb’s skin remembered.
Fenrir’s consciousness slunk forward—ancient instinct coiling around modern desire. Their boundaries dissolved like mist at sunrise, wolf hunger and human need becoming a single insatiable force that throbbed with each heartbeat. The alpha mantle fell away, wild certainty of belonging replacing it. Caleb’s fingers found purchase on Asher’s shoulders, anchoring him to this moment as wolf-sense heightened every touch to near-unbearable clarity.
When Asher reached for the bedside table and retrieved a bottle of lube, Caleb’s breath hitched, recognizing,craving, what was to come. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d been needing this, the precious feeling of walls crumbling. Only here, only with Asher, could his body remember how to receive under his beta’s careful touch.
Asher’s gaze held sacred understanding as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s lips that tasted of recognition. The electricity between them transformed from sharp lightning to deep ocean current. Caleb’s pulse fluttered in his throat, exposed and trembling, yet anchored in absolute trust as Asher’s weight settled over him.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Asher murmured as he coated his fingers.
Caleb’s body relaxed instinctively, and when Asher’s hand slid between his thighs, he let out a shuddering breath that made the connection between them spark like kindling.
The first press of Asher’s finger was gentle, circling the tight ring of muscle with a reverence that sent shivers up Caleb’s spine. Their arousal perfumed the air differently now—Caleb’s scent softening from its alpha dominance to something honeyed and open.
Asher nuzzled the base of Caleb’s cock, tongue darting out to trace a slow, deliberate line along the underside. Caleb groaned, hips jerking involuntarily at the contact.
