Chapter 25 You're My Mate
Lyra
Every small movement I make sends a sharp ache through my ribs. The scratch from Villie’s claws still burns, a slow, pulsing throb that shouldn’t even exist anymore.
Bram notices too, and as he carefully peels the bandage back, the air hits the raw skin, and I flinch, biting my lip. His jaw tightens, and I see worry on his face. “It’s worse,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing at the wound.
“It shouldn’t be,” I say. My voice sounds too loud in this empty house. “It should be healed by now. I’m a shifter for Goddess’s sake.”
“Something’s holding it back.” His gaze is still fixed on the injury.
He traces the skin just above the cut, and his touch sends an electric jolt through me. I feel my wolf stir restlessly, not from pain, but from being near Bram.
“Hold still,” he says, but his tone has changed. It’s deeper now, more serious.
“I am holding still,” I murmur.
I can’t look away from him. His hair is mussed from lying beside me, one lock falling over his brow, and I have the ridiculous urge to push it back. His face is so close that I could count each breath if mine weren’t coming so unevenly.
Bram leans in slightly, his hand bracing near my waist as he reaches for the fresh wrap. The movement presses his thigh against mine, and the slow awareness I’ve been ignoring for months, maybe years, roars to life.
It’s been there in every shared glance, every time his shoulder brushed mine in passing. I just never let myself stop running long enough to feel it like this.
His fingers brush my bare ribs again. “You’re shaking,” he says.
“I know,” I say, gasping.
Bram’s gaze catches mine, and the hum between us turns molten, giving me butterflies in my stomach. He doesn’t ask permission—he just leans in, and I meet him halfway.
The first touch of his mouth is almost careful, but the second is hungry.
“I want you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I run my fingers through his hair. “Then take me.”
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer across the worn wooden floor. The pain in my ribs lingers at the edge of my awareness, but it’s drowned beneath the rush of heat that pours through me.
He kisses me deeper, and every tilt of his head, every press of his lips feels like something we’ve been building toward forever.
Bram slides his palm up my spine, and I arch instinctively into the touch. The shiver that follows has nothing to do with the cold.
He presses his fingers gently under the hem of my top, lifting the fabric quickly, the action filled with lust. Cool night air brushes my skin, every nerve suddenly alert.
Bram takes off his shirt, too, and I reach out and trail my fingers up his arm. His biceps are taut and hard beneath my touch. My hands glide over his chest—flat, sculpted, every line defined like he’s been carved from stone. My palms flatten against his ribs, sliding lower to the tight planes of his abs.
His hands move next, warm and sure, sliding up my sides until his palms cup my breasts. A soft moan slips past my lips as his thumbs brush over my nipples, coaxing them into hardened peaks. I melt into the touch, the steady pressure sending a thrill straight through me.
Bram’s hands move with gentle authority as he finishes undressing me, peeling away the last barriers until I’m bare before him, completely exposed, and completely his. The desire pooling low inside me burns brighter with every touch of his fingertips.
Laid out before the man I suddenly realize is my fated mate for the first time, the rush of desire and connection is overwhelming. Ecstasy and nirvana tangle together, something beyond explanation, but there’s no time to unravel it now.
His fingers travel slowly down my inner thigh, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touch. I’m already trembling when his hand reaches my slick, aching center. With deliberate care, he presses a finger to my clit, rubbing in firm, circular motions that make my entire body hum.
At the same time, his mouth finds my nipple, sucking and teasing with a hunger that matches my own. My moans deepen, spilling into cries of pure pleasure that echo off the walls. His teeth elongate at the same time that mine do. I feel nothing when his mouth finds the sensitive flesh above my left breast. A metalic taste coats my tongue as my teeth sink into his shoulder. Deep within me, a band snaps into place, a thread that can never be severed.
Somewhere in the midst of it, my pain slips away entirely. I notice only because I can move freely again, pressing against him without flinching.
I find his waistband and slowly pull his pants down, freeing him from the last barrier.
“Please, Bram,” I beg. “Mark me. Take me as your mate.”
A low growl rumbles deep in his throat, raw and full of promise. Without hesitation, he tosses aside the rest of his clothes.
I reach for him, and he positions himself between my legs, close enough that I can feel the passion radiating from his body. I slide my hand up and down his length, marveling at the thickness.
The way his eyes darken when I touch him–that look is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen.
Bram slides inside me, filling me perfectly. His hips move in time with my heartbeat, a steady rhythm that pulls me deeper into the moment. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure rolling through me until, within minutes, I come undone—shaking and breathless.
It doesn’t take long for Bram to reach his peak as well, and when at last the rush slows and we’re lying tangled together, the moonlight painting silver across our skin, I remember the wound.
I touch my side, half-expecting the familiar sting. Instead, I find smooth, unbroken skin.
I’m shocked. “Bram.”
He lifts his head, eyes questioning.
“It’s gone. The wound—it’s healed.”
Bram’s mouth curves in a slow smile, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I told you. Fated mates take care of each other.”
I laugh. “Oh? So it’s official, then?”
“It’s always been official,” he says, his voice low and certain. “You were mine the moment I saw you.”
My chest aches in the best way as I curl against him, the steady beat of his heart lulling me. The last thing I feel before sleep pulls me under is his arm tightening around me, holding me close like he never intends to let go.