Page 24 of His Claim
His brows drew together, and his thumb brushed the damp hair back from my temple. “I’m not pretending.” His quiet voice wasfierce. “I’ve killed for far less than the chance to stand here with you like this. You think I’d waste my words on lies?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My chest ached with the force of everything I couldn’t say.
He must have seen it in my face, because he smiled faintly, almost like he was trying to make the moment easier for me. His forehead pressed against mine again, and his next words sounded like a solemn vow.
“You’re mine, Mariah. Not because I claimed you, but because fate decided you were meant for me. And tonight, I’ll prove to you what it means. Not with chains. Not with force. But with every part of me I’ve kept hidden away for so long. Until now. Until you.”
My lips parted, a shaky breath slipping free, and I hated how much of me wanted to believe him.
Maybe I already did.
His words were still vibrating in my chest when his lips touched mine again, softer this time, lingering. I melted before I could stop myself, my fingers tightening around his hand where he still held mine.
The kiss deepened slowly, like he was giving me every chance to turn away. His mouth moved with a gentleness I hadn’t known wolves were capable of, coaxing instead of taking, and the knot of tension in my belly unwound thread by fragile thread.
When he pulled back, his pale eyes burned down into me. “Let me show you,” he whispered.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt, but I nodded. Just once. It was enough.
He let go of my hand only to take hold of the towel. His fingers brushed my hand where it was tucked at my chest, pausing, waiting for my permission. I drew in a shaky breath, then let my hand fall away. The towel slipped off, sliding down my body to pool at my feet.
He sucked in an audible breath, his gaze moving slowly over me, like he was memorizing every inch of me. For once, I didn’t shrink away from a male. I let him look.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick.
Heat rushed through me, and I reached for him, my hands tugging at his shirt. He let me, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Now it was my breath that caught. He was all muscle and scars, each mark telling a story I didn’t know yet. He caught my gaze, looking almost uncertain.
I touched one of the scars across his chest, and he inhaled sharply. His eyes darkened, and then his mouth was on mine again, kissing me more deeply now, his hands sliding to my hips, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body pressed into mine, solid and overwhelming, but not suffocating.
He walked me backward, slow, unhurried, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. He eased me down onto the mattress, his weight following, braced carefully so he wasn’t crushing me. His lips trailed down my throat, across my collarbone, slow kisses that left me shivering.
Every touch was wholly patient. This wasn’t about claiming or frenzy. This was about showing me I was wanted. Cherished, even.
My nails dug into his shoulders as his mouth traced lower, across the mark he’d left. The bite pulsed under his lips, sendinga shudder racing through me. He lingered there, pressing a kiss so gentle it stole my breath away.
When his lips captured mine again and his weight settled me deeper into the sheets, the world outside that room disappeared. There was no Council, no cages, no bodies and blood on the floor.
There was just us.
The weight of him pressed me into the mattress, solid and grounding, but never crushing. His body hovered over mine, his silver eyes searching me like he was afraid I might vanish if he blinked.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, rough, but steady.
I nodded, my chest rising on a shaky breath. “Yes.”
He kissed me again, slow, deep, and I felt his hand slide from my hip to my waist, tracing the curve of me with increasing tenderness. His touch was hot, but gentle, like I was a precious thing.
His lips trailed down the column of my throat, lingering again at the mark he’d given me. When he kissed me there tenderly, my whole body shivered. The bond hummed between us, alive, pulsing like it carried its own heartbeat.
He continued on over the swell of my chest, until he pressed his lips to my breasts. Finding my nipples, still sore from his earlier torment, he licked and then sucked each one, moving his head from side to side. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, needing him like air. He groaned against my skin, the sound vibrating through me, and he rose up to claim my mouthagain, slower and sensual, like he was savoring the taste and feel of me.
When his hand slipped lower, stroking the inside of my thigh, my breath caught. My body trembled, but from want, not fear. I spread my legs, tentative but willing, and he eased himself between them. The head of his cock pushed against my entrance, and I sucked in a nervous breath even as my legs spread a bit wider.
“I’ve got you, Mariah,” he said in a gravelly tone. “I’ve always got you. Let me show you.”
I swallowed hard, nodding, and he pressed forward, sinking into me inch by inch, slow and careful. I gasped, arching up into him, my fingers clutching tight at his back. He was so big, so hot, filling me and pressing our bodies together until there was no space left between us, and still, he didn’t stop, didn’t rush. He took his time, easing himself inside me until he was buried to the hilt.
We stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing, just feeling.
