He smiled, eyes softening just a little. “Not even if you kill me.”
I drifted, half-asleep, half-awake, the fever gone, the hollow in my chest finally filled. “I’m sorry about earlier. I feel like Stillwater Bourbon is drowning me.”
“I get it. I’m here to help if you let me.”
Outside, the clubhouse rumbled on, the world unchanged. But inside this room, in the space between breath and heartbeat, everything was different.
We were bonded, for better or worse.
Dawn crept up on us like a grifter, slow and yellow-eyed, but I didn’t see it until Shivs rolled off me, breathing so hard the walls seemed to rattle. The mattress was a disaster—tangled sheets, clawed pillows, a Rorschach of sweat and blood on the thin coverlet. He sprawled across the bed, hair stuck to his forehead, chest heaving, the tattoo at his collarbone rising and falling like it might jump off and bite me on its own.
I tried to move, but my legs were numb and my hips ached like I’d spent the night riding fences. Every muscle burned, and I didn’t hate it. I dragged myself up, propped on one elbow, and looked at him.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes flat and unblinking, like a dog coming down from a bad trip. For a second, I thought he’d passed out. But then he turned his head, slow as a thunderstorm, and looked at me with a hunger so pure it made my skin prickle.
“You okay?” I asked, voice hoarse.
He nodded. Then he grinned, the canines a little too long, a little too sharp.
I licked the sweat from my lips and tasted copper. My thighs were sticky, my neck raw where he’d bitten me—again, and again. The mark there wasn’t a bruise anymore. It was a sigil, black and red, pulsing with its own heartbeat. I touched it, half-expecting the skin to come away on my fingers, but it held.
He sat up, hunched over, and ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shook my head, but the question vibrated in the air, a warning and a dare. “You want to?” I said, and surprised myself with the answer.
He watched me, jaw flexing. “Not unless you beg.”
I crawled over the bed, knees catching on the torn blanket, and straddled his lap. He was still hard, and the thought of it—of him, inside me, again—made the mark on my neck flare with heat.
I kissed him, slow at first, then deeper, biting his lower lip until he gasped. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging in, and I felt the shift start—not all at once, not like the movies, but in increments: the nails blackening and curving, the heat of his skin rising, the way his tongue flicked in my mouth, hungrier, wilder.
He pushed me off, gentle but insistent, then stood. I thought he might leave, but instead he backed me against the cinderblock wall, hands braced on either side of my head. He buried his face in my hair, breathing me in, the wolf in him so close to the surface I could hear it in every inhale.
He kissed down my jaw, then lower, teeth scraping my collarbone, and when he bit the mark again, the pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. I clawed at his back, urging him on. He grabbed my wrists, and pinned them above my head, and stared at me, eyes gone emerald, pupils blown wide.
“This is what you want?” he said, the words a growl.
I nodded. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
He picked me up, like I weighed nothing, and slammed me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his ass. He fucked me standing, hard, the motion rough enough to scrape the skin off my back. I wanted more. I wanted all of it.
His face changed as we moved: jaw stretching, cheekbones widening, hair crawling down his neck and shoulders. I watched it happen, terrified and fascinated, unable to look away. The bones in his hands cracked, fingers thickening, claws sprouting from the tips.
He kept going, faster, until I felt the world bend around the two of us. The air grew dense, suffocating, but I didn’t care. I bit his shoulder, tasted fur, and shuddered as he drove into me, each thrust a new claim, a new mark.
He came with a howl, the sound echoing down the hall. I felt him swell inside me, knotting, locking us together, and the sensation pushed me over the edge. I came so hard I thought I might die from it. A heat raced through my body as if my blood had somehow been replaced with adrenaline. I did want to die. I want to die with this wolf’s cock buried inside me, the two of us floating somewhere between heaven and hell for eternity.
He curled around me, holding me tight, his arms shaking.
I stroked his face, the fur soft and wet with sweat. “Is this the wolf, or is it you?” I whispered.
He laughed, voice ragged. “Both. Always both.”
He kissed my forehead, then my lips, then my neck, and I knew I’d never belong to anyone else, not ever.
Shivs