Page 49 of Curses and Casualties
His hands are gentle as he helps me undress, reverent in a way that makes me feel cherished rather than just desired. When he kneels to help with my boots, his fingers ghost over the scar on my leg—Luna’s entry point—and I feel her stir with interest.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss to the puckered skin.
“No,” I breathe, my fingers threading through his hair. “It... tingles sometimes. Especially when you’re near.”
He looks up at me, eyes dark with heat. “I love you, Georgia. Every part of you. Human and wolf. Scars and all.”
The shower is hot and perfect, washing away the grime of travel and the lingering chill from Magnus’s compound. Ryan’s hands are everywhere—shampooing my hair, soaping my skin,touching me with a combination of desire and worship that makes me melt.
When I return the favor, tracing the scars on his chest with soapy fingers, he groans and pulls me closer. Our mouths meet under the spray, hungry and desperate, and I can feel our bond humming between us like a live wire.
“Georgia,” he breathes against my lips. “I need?—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “Me too.”
But it’s more than just physical need. As he presses me against the shower wall, his body covering mine, I feel Luna reaching for Kane, our souls straining toward each other. The bathroom fills with that familiar silver-gold glow, steam turning to mist that sparkles in the supernatural light.
“Beautiful,” Ryan murmurs, watching the light dance across my wet skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
When he enters me, we both cry out, the sensation amplified by our strengthening bond. The first thrust has me seeing stars, the second has me forgetting my own name.
“Fuck,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Ryan, please?—”
“Please what?” His voice is rough, teasing, as he pins me against the tiled wall. “Tell me what you need.”
“Harder,” I demand, past the point of embarrassment. “I need—fuck, I need you to?—”
He cuts me off with a bruising kiss, then does exactly what I asked for. The shower wall is cold against my back but I don’t care, not when he’s moving like this, not when I can feel his desperation matching mine. His free hand grips my thigh, hitching it higher, changing the angle until?—
“Oh god, right there,” I babble, seeing silver and gold sparks behind my eyelids. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare?—”
“Never,” he growls against my neck, and I feel his teeth graze my skin. “You’re mine, Georgia. Mine to pleasure, mine toworship, mine to…mark.” His jaw clamps down, fangs sinking into the spot where my neck meets shoulder, just above my frantic pulse.
I cry out, the pain exquisite, sharp and consuming. But the pleasure that follows is so all-encompassing I nearly black out. My body seizes, every nerve ablaze, as Luna’s howl splits my mind and echoes off the tile. The world narrows to the point of his teeth, the flood of energy that pulses through him into me, and then loops back, doubling the intensity with every racing heartbeat.
Ryan doesn’t stop thrusting, even as his bite deepens. When he releases, the mark is sealed, a burning imprint that sizzles with supernatural heat. “Oh god! Ryan!” My orgasm hits me like a lightning strike, every nerve ending firing at once. I scream his name, nails raking down his back, and that’s when I feel it—a sharp pain in my gums, my fingertips.
“Georgia. Fuck!” Ryan gasps, his own release following mine as he buries his face in my neck with a groan that might be my name or his wolf’s growl.
We stay there for long moments, breathing hard, clinging to each other as the water continues to cascade over us. The glow slowly fades, but something feels... different.
“Um, Ryan?” I run my tongue over my teeth and freeze. “I think I have a problem.”
He pulls back to look at me and his eyes widen. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I reach up to touch my mouth and feel them—fangs. Actual, honest-to-god fangs. And when I look at my hands... “Oh my god, are those claws?”
“Definitely.” His voice mixes awe and arousal. He takes my hand gently, thumb running along each razor point. They’re half an inch, wickedly curved, obsidian-bright. “Beautiful.”
“They’re not retracting! How do I talk with these? And these?” I hold up my hands. “I’ll shred everything!”
He grins, catching my face. “Breathe. This is good. Luna’s getting stronger.”
“But I’m stuck!” I wail, then wince as I prick my lip. “Ow! How do you manage?”
“Years of practice. Come on, let’s figure this out.”
Getting out is an adventure. I claw three towels before Ryan takes over. Getting dressed, I tear underwear before he helps. The fangs make talking awkward—I lisp and catch my lip.
