Chapter 130 Tonight, Before the Dawn
Wynter's POV
Chase didn't answer immediately. Through the Bond, I felt the complex tangle of his emotions—fear, determination, love so fierce it made my chest ache.
The firelight cast shadows across his face, making the planes and angles seem sharper, more defined.
Finally, he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me with almost bruising force. "I don't know," he said quietly, his voice rough with honesty. "The odds aren't good."
My throat tightened. "That's not the reassuring answer I was hoping for."
His laugh was bitter, self-deprecating. "I could lie. Tell you everything will be fine. That we'll march into Bloodrock, rescue Anne and those children, defeat Draven, and ride home as heroes." He paused, his hand coming up to cup my face with devastating gentleness. "But I won't lie to you. Not tonight."
"No," I whispered, leaning into his touch. "Don't lie."
I turned away from his searching gaze, focusing on the dancing flames in the fireplace. The words felt like stones in my throat, heavy and sharp, but I forced them out anyway. "I think there's a real chance we don't make it back."
Saying it aloud made the fear more real, more tangible. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's heart break a little, felt his own terror mixing with mine until I couldn't tell where his ended and mine began.
His fingers found my chin, tilting my face back toward him with gentle insistence. "Then let me have tonight," he said, his voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. "Let me memorize every part of you. Every sound you make. Every way you respond to my touch."
His thumb traced the curve of my lower lip, and I felt heat flood through me despite the fear, despite everything. "If tomorrow is all we have—" his voice roughened, "—I want tonight to last forever."
The intensity in his eyes stole my breath. This wasn't just desire—it was desperation, determination, a fierce need to claim this moment before fate could steal it away.
"Chase," I breathed, but whatever I'd been about to say dissolved as his mouth found mine.
The kiss started gentle, almost tentative, as if he was asking permission for something we'd done countless times before. But it quickly deepened, became more urgent, more desperate.
My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solid warmth of him, the proof that we were both still here, still alive, still together.
The blanket we'd wrapped ourselves in slipped from my shoulders as I shifted closer, and the cool air against my skin made me gasp against his mouth. Chase pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes tracking the path of firelight across my exposed skin.
"You're so beautiful it physically hurts to look at you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I didn't look away. "Then maybe you should do more than look."
Something flared in his eyes—desire mixed with something deeper, something that made my heart race and my wolf purr with satisfaction. He stood in one fluid motion, pulling me up with him, his hands steady and sure despite the tremor I could feel through the Bond.
We stood facing each other in the firelight, the space between us charged with unspoken promises. "Bed?" he asked, his voice rough.
I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat, so I just nodded.
He took my hand, threading our fingers together, and led me the few steps to the bed. When we reached it, he turned to face me, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek.
"Are you sure?" he asked, searching my face. "We can just sleep if you want—"
"I need you tonight," I interrupted, my voice stronger than I felt. "All of you."
His hands moved to the buttons of my shirt with deliberate slowness. The first button slipped free, and he immediately leaned down to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin at the base of my throat.
"I love you," he said against my skin, his breath warm.
My own breath hitched as his fingers moved to the second button. This time, when it came undone, his lips found my collarbone, trailing kisses across the ridge of bone with reverent attention.
"I love the way you challenge me," he murmured between kisses.
By the time the final button came undone, my shirt fell open, and I stood before him in just my bra. His eyes darkened as he looked at me, and the raw hunger in his gaze made me shiver.
His hands moved to my back, finding the clasp of my bra. "May I?"
"Yes," I whispered.
The clasp came undone, and slowly he slid the straps down my arms. The fabric fell away, and for a moment I couldn't breathe under the weight of his stare.
"God, Wynter," he breathed, reverence clear in his voice.
"My turn," I managed, my voice shaking but determined.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he waited patiently. When I finally got it open and pushed it off his shoulders, my breath caught. I traced the puckered skin of the gunshot wound on his shoulder, and felt him tense slightly.
"Does it still hurt?" I asked softly.
"Not when you touch it," he said, his voice rough.
My hands moved to his belt, and I could feel his arousal pressing insistently against his pants. Heat flooded my face, but I didn't stop. I worked the buckle open, then pushed his pants down.
"You're beautiful," I said, the words barely above a whisper.
His laugh was breathless. "That's my line."
He hooked his fingers in my waistband. "These too?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
Within moments we were both bare, and he was guiding me backward toward the bed. When my knees hit the mattress, I sat, then lay back as he gently pushed on my shoulders.
Chase climbed onto the bed beside me, and his hand slid up to cup my breast. I gasped as his thumb found my nipple, circling it with maddening slowness.
"So responsive," he murmured, his thumb pressing more firmly now. "I love how your body reacts to me."