Page 40 of Claimed By the Reporter Alpha
What followed was food, more laughter and Tony giving a heartfelt speech about family. Carys got tipsy and told embarrassing stories about my dating history while Isla cried through half of it, claiming it was allergies.
By the time everyone left, the sun was setting and Orianna was fed and drowsy.
"I'll put her to bed." I cradled our daughter against my chest. She yawned as her little fist curled around my finger.
Dawson followed us to the nursery as I settled her into the crib. I took in her dark hair and green eyes and marveled at our little cub who Samson said had a wolf inside her.
We stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep before Dawson took my hand and led me back to our bedroom.
"We're not done yet." There was something different in his voice and I sensed his wolf was closer to the surface.
"The marking." My heart started pounding.
"Only if you're ready. We don't have to."
"I'm ready." We'd talked about this. The human ceremony was for our friends, and the shifter marking for us. We needed to make the bond permanent and unbreakable.
Dawson's eyes flashed. I caught a glimpse of his wolf in his eyes. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. "Where?" he asked.
"Here." I touched his left shoulder, just above his heart. "So I can see it every day."
I leaned in slowly, giving him time to change his mind. But Dawson's eyes had darkened, his breathing gone shallow, and when my teeth pressed against his skin, he made a low sound that went straight to my heart.
I leaned in and bit down. Not hard enough to cause real damage, but enough to leave a mark. Dawson made a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan as his hands gripped my hips.
When I pulled back, there it was. My mark on his skin and the proof that he was mine.
"Parker." My name on his lips sounded so reverent. "My turn."
His eyes flashed, wolf rising to the forefront of his gaze, and his canines lengthened. I unbuttoned my shirt with shaking hands, baring my left shoulder.
"Make it a good one." I was trying for levity, but my voice came out breathless.
"I wouldn't do it any other way." His hand came up to cup the back of my neck, tilting my head to expose more of my throat, and the possessiveness of the gesture made heat pool low in my belly. "Mine."
"Yours," I agreed.
The bite was quick and sharp as pain and pleasure mingled when his teeth broke my skin. The change was more than physical and our new connection felt ancient and unbreakable.
I gasped and my fingers dug into his shoulders. When he pulled back, he licked my wound gently and soothed the pain. "Mine."
"Your mate," I agreed. "And you're mine."
"Always have been."
We stood there in our bedroom, marked and mated and married, and I thought about how far we'd come. From that first day in the studio—me with my cheerful translations and him with his scowls and technical jargon. Through hurricanes and wolves and on-air disasters, pregnancy and birth and sleepless nights with a newborn.
"What are you thinking?" Dawson asked.
"That life is strange." I traced the mark on his shoulder, watching him shiver. "A year ago, I was running from a broken relationship. Now I'm married to a shifter and raising a baby."
"Do you have any regrets?"
"Nope" I kissed him. "You and our daughter are the best thing that ever happened to me."
Down the hall, Orianna made a small sound in her sleep. Maybe she was dreaming of wolves and moonlight and a future she'd grow into.
I pulled Dawson down onto the bed, mindful of our fresh marks, and curled into his side. The place I'd come to think of as home.
"I love you."
"I love you too." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "Both of you."
Outside, the first stars were appearing in the sky. Tomorrow, we'd go back to work. Back to broadcasts and weather forecasts and viewers who didn't know that the grumpy meteorologist and his sunshine host were actually mates who'd started a family.
But tonight, we were just us. Marked and mated and impossibly happy.
And that was the best forecast I could have asked for.
