Chapter 227
Hendrix’s POV
I sit at the edge of the reception, elbows braced on my knees, watching her move in the centre of the circle. A stupid, helpless smile keeps tugging at my mouth no matter how hard I try to school it. My heart feels too full—swollen, warm, crowded with feelings I can’t quite name and don’t want to examine yet. I’m not in a hurry. I know the main ones.
The long wait is finally fucking over.
She’s mine.
The twin puncture marks from my fangs sit proud on the side of her neck, raw and red now but already beginning to settle. By morning they’ll scar beautifully—permanent ink only we’ll ever truly understand.
My fingers drift up without thinking, grazing the matching bite she left on me. The moment the pads brush the sensitive punctures, a sharp, electric current streaks down my spine, rushing through my chest, coiling low in my gut, and landing straight in my cock. My hips shift involuntarily; I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning. The mark is a pleasure spot now. I could come just from teasing it while picturing her face. Once the bond roots fully, I’ll feel everything she feels through it. She’ll feel me. The thought alone makes my pulse thud harder.
Alaric paces restlessly inside me, low growls vibrating in my skull, huffing with impatience. But even he doesn’t push. Not when she’s glowing like this—happier than we’ve ever seen her. The light in her eyes rivals the stars, and her smile leaves even the full moon above looking dull by comparison.
How could we drag her away from that?
She spins in the middle of the circle, laughing, surrounded by Scarlette, Apple, Gemma—and unfortunately Gillian, the only man brave or stupid enough to join the women celebrating the pack’s freedom and their new Luna. They finished the formal moon dance ages ago, but none of them want to stop. No one has the heart to break it up. Their joy radiates outward—cheers, stomping feet, bright laughter—warming the entire pack.
They deserve every second of it.
My dick, unfortunately, has other ideas.
I’m clinging to my patience with both hands, fighting the insistent throb between my legs. It feels wrong to let my mind run wild when she’s radiating such pure, unguarded bliss. Her happiness is bright and innocent; the thoughts in my head are anything but.
The wedding dress and those ridiculous sapphire shoes are long gone. She kicked the heels off to Brie and shed the outer layers until the gown transformed into something else entirely—a shimmering, jewel-encrusted slip of a dress that hugs every curve too tightly for decency. There’s nothing wrong with what she’s wearing… unless you consider the short hem riding high on her thighs, or the deep plunge missing half the bodice.
Anything she wore tonight would look sinful on her. My mind keeps dragging me back to the same thought: how fast can I get that body flat on my bed?
I mentally pat myself on the back for lasting this long. Most alphas claim their mates within a month, no matter the circumstances. Sure, her first death and Astra’s interference bought us time, but still—a round of applause for my restraint. I’m hanging on by threads here.
She catches my eye mid-spin, cheeks flushed from dancing, lips parted on a laugh. The bond hums between us, feeding me echoes of her joy. My chest tightens. She’s mine. Finally.
I drag in a slow exhale through my nose and force my gaze away before I do something stupid like cross the floor and carry her off in front of the entire pack.
I lean back against the wooden pillar, arms crossed tight across my chest, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache. Haven’t she danced enough?
Alaric finally snaps inside me. “I can’t take it anymore!” he roars, slamming his forehead against the mental wall of our shared space with a frustrated huff. He drops to the floor in a dramatic heap. “The least she can do is stop rolling her hips like that.”
I don’t argue. If only she’d stop. She’s not a trained dancer—never claimed to be—but the one move she knows is that slow, rolling grind, hips swaying like she’s trying to seduce every male in the pack. Of all the steps she could’ve picked, it had to be that one.
My fingers flex against my biceps, nails digging into skin. I force a slow breath through my nose, tasting the night air. None of it helps.
Hey, hey!
“Gillian, hands off!” The words rip out of me before I can stop them.
The circle of women startles, heads whipping toward me. Sapphire doesn’t even pause—doesn’t spare me a glance. Her hips keep moving, fluid and unapologetic. It’s the seventh time tonight I’ve barked at him. The maggot just huffs, backs away with exaggerated drama, then slinks toward his cousin instead.
I exhale hard through my nose, shoulders dropping a fraction with temporal relief. She’s marked now, but Gillian still sets my teeth on edge. I won’t relax around him until he finds his own mate and stops looking at mine like she hung the moon.
The music shifts—something faster, jollier, thank Selene. The women break into loud, almost manic singing, voices overlapping in cheerful chaos. Their steps change to something Irish—quick, stomping, arms linked. Sapphire turns toward Gillian this time.
My mouth opens to shout again.
She snaps her head toward me so fast her ponytail whips across her shoulder. The glare she levels could strip paint. I swallow the words. She begged me to dance earlier; I did for the first song, then backed off. Dancing with her is dangerous.
I stay rooted, gaze locked on her. The song is one of Brie’s mate’s favourites—popular these days, all driving rhythm and bright strings. I want to watch Brie with concern, check if she’s okay, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Sapphire. Thankfully Taffy sits close by, keeping watch.
When the song finally ends, Sapphire steps out of the circle, cheeks flushed, breathing quick and shallow. She bounces toward me—happy, tired, glowing. A grin splits my face; I spread my arms, already picturing scooping her up, carrying her straight to the cold bed waiting for our heat.
Scarlette grabs her wrist at the last second.
No. No, no, no.
Scarlette pouts, all wide eyes and innocence, voice pitched high and sweet. “Sapphire, stay with me. I love you.”
My mate melts instantly, wrapping Scarlette in a hug. Scarlette shoots me a wicked grin over Sapphire’s shoulder—pure evil, lips curled in triumph.
“Cockblocker,” I mouth at her.
She mouths back, “That’s my name,” and flips me off with both hands.
I fume, watching her drag my mate across the wide space. At least they’re moving away from Threat Number One.
My relief lasts two seconds.
Threat Number Two sits in the far corner, legs crossed, smiling like the global treasure he is. It’s Niall. The gorgeous women magnet is back and ready to steal every ounce of her attention.
I groan low in my throat, rubbing a hand over my face. I’d completely forgotten about the innocent bastard. The most beautiful man alive—and that’s saying something, coming from me.
He catches my eye and raises his glass in a lazy toast, smile widening.
I narrow mine.
Not tonight, you beautiful prick. Not ever.