Chapter 160 Missing Her

Chapter 160 Missing Her
Darius pov 

By the end of the fourth week, Stoneridge was transformed. New buildings stood where ruins had been. Fields were replanted. Infrastructure repaired. The pack looked alive again, hopeful instead of desperate.

"I can't thank you enough," Matthias said on my last night. "You saved us. Truly."

"You saved yourselves," I corrected. "I just helped organize the effort."

"Modest," Matthias said with a smile. "But we both know you did more than organize. You gave us hope. Showed us that recovery was possible."

That night, the pack threw a celebration in our honor. Music and dancing and more gratitude than I knew how to handle. People kept approaching to thank me, to tell me how much the work had meant to them.

"You should stay," one of the elders suggested. "Become our official advisor. We'd be honored to have you."

"I appreciate that," I said. "But my home is Wynterhold. My place is with my mate."

"A man who knows where he belongs," the elder said approvingly. "That's rare and precious."

The next morning, I began the journey home. My warriors were in good spirits, proud of what we'd accomplished. But I was distracted, counting the hours until I could see Beatrice again.

The bond had sustained me through the separation, but it wasn't the same as having her in my arms. I needed to touch her, smell her, hear her voice without the distortion of distance.

We made good time, pushing hard to cover the ground quickly. By the fourth day, Wynterhold came into view and my heart soared.

Beatrice was waiting in the courtyard when we arrived. She must have felt me getting closer through the bond because she was already moving toward the gates before we fully entered.

I dismounted and caught her as she ran to me. She wrapped herself around me completely and I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in.

"I missed you," she said against my neck. "So much. It was awful."

"Never again," I promised. "We're not doing separations this long again."

"Agreed," Beatrice said. She pulled back enough to kiss me properly. The bond flared bright and warm between us, celebrating our reunion.

"You're a hero," she said when we finally broke apart. "I've been getting reports. Everyone you helped. Every pack you consulted with. They're all talking about you."

"I just did what needed doing," I said.

"You found your calling," Beatrice corrected. "Post-war reconstruction. Bringing communities together. Solving practical problems. That's your gift."

She was right. I'd discovered something out there in Stoneridge and the other territories. A way to contribute that was uniquely mine. Not fighting or following orders, but building. Creating. Helping communities heal.

"Come on," Beatrice said, pulling me toward the Keep. "Your brothers want to hear all about it. They've been pestering me for details all week."

The Wynter brothers greeted me warmly, genuinely interested in the work I'd been doing. We spent the evening in Theron's study sharing stories and plans.

"You should make this official," Silas suggested. "Establish yourself as a reconstruction specialist. Other territories will request your services as they recover."

"That would mean more time away," I said, glancing at Beatrice.

"Short trips," Beatrice said. "A week here and there. We can handle that. And it's important work."

"You're sure?" I asked.

"I'm sure," Beatrice said. "You found your purpose. I'm not going to make you give that up just because I'm clingy."

"We'll both be clingy," I corrected. "But we'll make it work."

Later that evening the fire in our chambers had burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls of Wynterhold. Beatrice stood by the window first, moonlight shining on her skin, her nightgown already slipping off one shoulder. She hadn’t said much since we’d returned from the discussion with her brothers—just looked at me with those eyes that always saw straight through me.

When she finally crossed the room and pressed herself against me, there was no preamble, no gentle coaxing. She kissed me like she was starving, fingers already tugging at my shirt, and I answered the same way—hard, hungry, all the hours we’d been forced to keep distance collapsing into this single moment.

I lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the bed. The furs were soft beneath us when I laid her down, but there was nothing soft in the way she pulled me over her, nails scoring lightly down my back. I stripped the last of her nightgown away in one motion, then shed my own clothes faster than I ever had in my life.

She was already wet when my hand slid between her thighs—slick, swollen, ready. A small, broken sound left her when I pushed two fingers inside, curling them just the way she liked, thumb circling her clit in slow, firm strokes. Her hips jerked up, chasing the pressure, and I watched her face the whole time—lips parted, eyes half-lidded and glowing faintly.

“Darius” My name came out in a gasp, almost a plea.

I didn’t make her wait long. I pulled my fingers free, brought them to my mouth and licked them clean while she watched, cheeks flushed dark. Then I hooked my hands under her knees, lifted her legs high and pressed them against my shoulders so her hips tilted up, open and completely exposed to me. She shivered at the stretch, at the way it left her helpless beneath me.

I lowered my head first.

My tongue found her in one long, slow drag from entrance to clit. She cried out—sharp, needy—and her hands flew to my hair, gripping hard. I didn’t tease. I devoured it. Lips sealed around her clit, sucking gently then harder, tongue flicking fast, then flattening to lap at her in broad strokes. Every time her thighs trembled against my ears I doubled down, pushing my tongue inside her, tasting how much wetter she got, how her inner walls fluttered like they were trying to pull me deeper.

When her hips started bucking uncontrollably and her breathing turned ragged, I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“Hold still for me, love.”

She whimpered but tried—legs shaking on my shoulders, hands fisting the furs.

I lined myself up, the head of my cock nudging her entrance, and sank in one long, relentless thrust.

She arched, a keening sound tearing from her throat as I bottomed out. The angle was brutal—deep, unyielding, every inch of me pressed against the spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. I stayed there, letting her feel me, then I started moving.

Hard. Steady. Each stroke dragged almost all the way out before slamming back in, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her legs pinned high kept her folded beneath me, helpless to do anything but take it, take me, her body clenching greedily around every thrust.

I leaned down, changing the angle again so my pelvis ground against her clit with each roll of my hips. Her nails dug into my shoulders, drawing blood I didn’t care about. until I felt her start to shatter.

“Come for me,” I growled against her mouth. “Let me feel you.”

She broke with a sob, walls pulsing, milking me so hard my rhythm faltered. I fucked her through it—faster, deeper—until the pressure at the base of my spine snapped and I came with a low, guttural groan, spilling inside her while her legs trembled against my shoulders and her body shook beneath mine.

After lying tangled together in the darkness, I felt complete again. The work in Stoneridge had been fulfilling, meaningful, important. But this was home.

"I love you," I told Beatrice. "Thank you for supporting me. For letting me find my own path."

"You're my partner," Beatrice said. "That means supporting each other's growth. Even when it's hard."

"We're going to be okay," I said. "Building this life together. You reshaping society while I help rebuild territories. We make a good team."

"The best team," Beatrice agreed.