Chapter 74 The Bite That Binds
Wynter's POV
The question lingered between us, raw and exposed. Chase's golden eyes pierced mine, dismantling every wall I'd built.
When are you going to bite me?
My wolf roared in response, a mix of desperation and hunger, but beneath it lay a growing clarity—forged from his every touch, every quiet admission, every time he'd chosen me over his duties.
The Bond thrummed with jagged energy, my scarred gland sending faint tingles down my spine, yet for the first time since Anne's attack, the damage felt like a gateway, not a prison.
"Now," I whispered, the word firm despite the tremor in my voice. "I want to do it now, Chase. I want to claim you like you've already taken hold of me."
He froze beneath me, his breath hitching. "Wyn, you don't have to—I know it's painful, I know the Bond's not right, and I don't want to push you just because I'm—"
I cut him off with a kiss, salty and fierce, my hands cupping his face to hold him close. "You're not pushing," I said against his lips. "You've been so patient, holding back when your instincts demand more. I love you for that. But I'm ready to stop running from what Anne did. I'm ready for us."
The air thickened with the weight of my confession—I love you—and I saw the truth hit him like a dawn breaking, his eyes softening with a vulnerability I'd rarely seen. His hands cradled my face, thumbs wiping away tears I hadn't noticed, and when he kissed me back, it was slow and profound, a promise sealed in the contact.
"I love you too," he murmured, his voice cracking. "It scares me how much, Wynter. If you're sure—if you're really ready—then I'm all in. I've been yours from the start."
The shift was seamless, emotion bleeding into desire. I kissed him deeper, tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, his hands sliding to my sides, tracing the curve of my waist with a reverence that made my skin burn. The room filled with the scent of us—earthy and intoxicating—and I felt the Bond's fragments sparking, amplifying every sensation.
"You're incredible," he whispered, his palms gliding up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing light circles that drew soft gasps from me. The sensation was electric, the Bond turning each caress into a shared pulse of pleasure and want.
I pushed him back onto the bed, taking control, my hands exploring his chest, fingers trailing down to his arousal. I wrapped my hand around his length, stroking with a firm grip that made him hiss.
But I wanted more—I wanted to build this moment, to make it ours. Leaning in, I pressed open-mouthed kisses along his inner thigh, teasing, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.
His hands fisted in the sheets, a low growl escaping him as I moved closer, my breath ghosting over him before I took him in, not with the urgency of before, but with a slow, exploratory rhythm that let me savor the taste and texture.
"Wyn," he breathed, his voice strained, one hand tangling in my hair, not guiding but holding on as if I were his anchor. The Bond hummed between us, letting me feel his restraint, his awe at my dominance, and it fueled me, pushing me to draw out his pleasure until he was trembling.
But I couldn't wait any longer. I pulled back, meeting his gaze, and he flipped us with a swift motion, pinning me gently beneath him. "Your turn," he said, his hands sliding down my sides, feeling the wetness between my thighs before sliding in one finger, then two, curling to find that sensitive spot while his thumb pressed against my clit in slow, building circles.
The pleasure built steadily, layered with the Bond's feedback—his satisfaction at my reactions, my own growing need—and I arched into him, gasping. "Chase, please— I need you inside me."
He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself at my entrance, and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch intense and perfect. We moaned together as he filled me, the connection deepening with each movement, the fractured Bond making every thrust feel amplified, like echoes of our shared emotions.
"You're everything," he panted, his pace steady and deep, hands gripping my thighs to angle me closer. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in, our bodies moving in sync, the rhythm building to a crescendo. His eyes never left mine, the intensity of his gaze pulling me under, and when his hand slipped between us to tease my clit again, the dual sensations sent me spiraling.
"I'm close," I cried, and he nodded, his thrusts growing harder, more urgent.
"Come with me, Wyn," he urged, and we shattered together, the orgasm ripping through us in waves that blurred the line between my body and his. As the aftershocks faded, I nuzzled his nape, my canines extending, the moment feeling inevitable.
"Now," I whispered, and I bit down, completing the Bond while still joined.
The Bond locked into place with a force that stole my breath, merging us into one entity. His emotions flooded me—fierce love, lingering fear, profound relief—and I felt his pain from the bite, sharp but fleeting, against the burning agony in my own scar. I'm sorry, he thought through the link.
Stop, I replied mentally, licking the wound closed. This is forever, not a regret.
He rolled us over, kissing me deeply, the mark glowing softly on his skin. "How do you feel?" he asked, anxiety seeping through.
"Like fire and salt," I admitted, "but whole. Like you fixed something I didn't know was broken."
Relief washed over him, and we lay tangled, exploring the Bond's imperfect connection—clear but with a faint delay, like static on a line. "We'll make it work," he promised.
Exhausted from the emotional and physical intensity, we fell asleep holding each other tightly.
However, sleep was fleeting; we awoke after just a few hours, still entwined, when reality intruded with my phone's buzz.
Rosalie's message about Jax missing shattered the moment, and we dressed quickly, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next.
"We need to go," I said, already scrambling off the bed and searching for my clothes with shaking hands. "Something's wrong—Rosalie says Jax is missing."
Chase was on his feet instantly, his own phone in hand. Through the Bond, I felt his concern sharpen into something darker. "She says he never came back to the hotel last night," he told me, his voice grim as he yanked on his jeans. "The front desk has no record of him picking up his room key, and his phone's going straight to voicemail."
The guilt that crashed over me was strong enough that Chase felt it through the Bond and immediately crossed the room to pull me into his arms.
"This is not your fault," he said firmly, tilting my chin up to force me to meet his eyes. "Jax is a grown man who made his own choices. You are not responsible for his actions. Do you hear me, Wyn?"
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Jax wouldn't just disappear without a word, not when he knew how much it would worry me.
"We need to find him," I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I finished dressing and grabbed my jacket. "Now, Chase. Before whatever trouble he's in gets worse."
He nodded, already moving toward the door, and through the Bond, I felt his determination settle over both of us like armor. "Then let's go," he said, taking my hand and threading our fingers together. "Together."