Chapter 55 56
The call ended, the faint, disembodied voice on the other end a ghost of the life we’d been pulled from. In the quiet that followed, a new tension, thick and sweet, descended upon us.
I wasn’t sure what to feel.
Embarrassed, yes. My lips were raw, swollen from his kiss, my pulse still erratic. Disappointed, too—because he stopped. Because of a phone call. Because reality had barged in when I wanted nothing but him.
Alpha Gregor pulled back only an inch, just enough for cold air to slip between us. His storm-colored eyes searched mine, tortured, his breath ragged. He was holding himself together by threads, but my fingers were still clenched in his shirt like my life depended on it.
I wasn’t ready to let go.
Gregor looked at me, a flicker of something I couldn't name—was it regret? self-reproach?—crossing his features. He moved back just an inch, a tiny, almost imperceptible distance, but it felt like a chasm opening up between us.
My hands, still clutching the front of his shirt, refused to let go. My knuckles were white, my grip desperate, as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping me from falling into that void. My lips, still raw and tingling, were a testament to the fire we had just danced around. I was lost, adrift in a sea of overwhelming sensation and conflicting emotions. The call had been a cold splash of reality, and I knew with a terrifying certainty that tomorrow, the war would be upon us. I couldn’t lose this, not now, not ever.
“Mark me,” I whispered, the words a plea torn from my very soul. "Right here, right now. I don’t know if we’ll have a tomorrow like this. I can’t... I can’t do this again."
His eyes flared wide, pupils blown, wolf surging so hard I swore I felt it thrumming in the walls around us.
“Marigold—” His voice broke, hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite believe what I’d just said.
“I mean it,” I whispered, desperate. “Right here. Right now. Because I don’t know if we’ll ever get another chance. Tomorrow could be a war, and I…” My chest heaved. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want anyone else to even think they have a claim on me. You’re my mate. We can't deny it any longer. You can't deny it. I know it. My wolf knows it.”
His jaw worked, tortured. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to physically resist, but his body betrayed him—leaning closer, lips ghosting mine again, trembling.
“My wolf,” I went on, breathless, “she’s wild, reckless, stronger than I can handle sometimes. But she’s bowing for you. She needs you. I need you.”
The growl that left him was low, guttural, pure hunger.
Then he kissed me again.
If the first kiss had been desperate, this one was devastation. A claiming. His lips slanted over mine, hard, hungry, all-consuming, and I gasped against his mouth, clutching him closer. He groaned, a raw sound that made heat flare through me, and his hands slid down to grip my waist, dragging me against him.
I melted.
The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine, hot and demanding, until my knees nearly buckled. He caught me easily, lifting me as though I weighed nothing, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. My back hit the wall, and still he didn’t stop kissing me, like he couldn’t, like stopping might kill him.
“Goddess, Marigold,” he rasped against my lips, voice thick, “you’ll ruin me.”
“Then let me,” I whispered, before sealing my mouth over his again.
He growled into the kiss, biting softly at my lip until I whimpered. That sound undid him. He carried me to the bed in three long strides, laying me down with a reverence that contradicted the hunger in his eyes.
I tugged him down with me, desperate, lips never parting. His body pressed against mine, heavy and solid, his heat sinking into me until I thought I’d combust. His hand traced down my side, slow but sure, memorizing every curve like he’d dreamed of this for years.
“You don’t understand,” he murmured against my neck, kissing, nipping, his voice broken. “If I mark you now—there’s no going back. You’ll be mine. Forever.”
I arched into him, gasping as his lips found the spot just below my ear, searing me with every kiss.
His control snapped.
The kisses turned molten, his mouth exploring mine with desperate hunger, his hands roaming, touching, worshipping. His wolf was right there, beneath the surface, growling low every time my nails raked down his back, every time I moaned his name against his lips.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, until we were nothing but heat and want and the dangerous edge of surrender.
When his teeth grazed my throat again, right where a mark would be, my breath hitched. My body trembled, pleading silently.
“Say it,” he growled, half command, half prayer.
“Yes,” I gasped, dizzy with need. “Yes, Gregor. I’m yours.”
His wolf roared inside him—I felt it in my bones, in the air, in the way he trembled over me.
The raw, unfiltered truth spilled from my lips. I couldn’t deny it any longer. The air, thick with the scent of pine and rain, hummed with a different kind of electricity. It wasn’t just desire; it was a profound, soul-deep acknowledgment. He was my mate. I was his. The bond, a shimmering thread of fate, was too strong to ignore.
My dark warrior wolf, usually a maelstrom of untamed fury, whimpered in my chest, a low, guttural growl of need. She wanted to be subdued, to submit to a power greater than her own. She needed him, her fierce counterpart, the one whose wolf could burn the world down to its foundations. She needed to be obeyed, to be owned, by him.