Kieran lifted me, hands firm beneath my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around his waist without thinking. The momentum carried us toward the stairs, my dress bunching between us, his breath hot against my throat.
"You're making a mistake," I said, though my arms locked around his neck.
"The only mistake I made was waiting this long," he said, taking the steps two at a time.
The second floor opened onto a hallway that smelled like cedar and something darker—him. He shouldered through a door at the end, and the scent intensified, wrapping around my senses until my wolf purred with contentment I hadn't felt in years.
His bedroom was stark, masculine, functional—a bed large enough to swallow us both, dark wood furniture, windows that let in light like judgment.
The bond thrummed louder here, in this space saturated with his presence, and I felt drunk on it.
He set me down slowly, my feet finding carpet while his hands traced up my sides. His fingers found the first button at my neck, working it free with deliberate patience that felt like cruelty.
"You wore this for him," he said, voice gone rough.
"I wore it for me," I corrected, breath catching as another button released.
His gaze lifted, amber eyes burning with something that made my pulse stutter. "Then let me take it off you properly."
Each button surrendered under his fingers while he mapped the territory beneath—collarbone, the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist. The dress fell in whispers of fabric until I stood in nothing but light and his attention.
His hands stilled. He looked at me like I was something holy and dangerous at once, like worship and conquest were the same impulse.
"Moon Goddess above…" he breathed.
I reached for his shirt, fingers clumsy with impatience. "Your turn."
He caught my hands, stilled them, kissed each knuckle before releasing me to finish what I'd started.
Buttons scattered across expensive fabric. I shoved the shirt off his shoulders, traced the topography of scars and muscle. Felt his breath hitch when my palms flattened against his chest.
His belt buckle yielded. I worked his pants down with hands that shook despite my determination to stay steady. When we finally stood facing each other—bare, breathing hard—something shifted.
His eyes held the same wonder they'd carried at fifteen when I'd pressed bandages against claw marks. Mine reflected a truth I'd buried under survival: I'd wanted this since before I understood what wanting meant.
"I died without knowing you were supposed to be mine," I said, the confession ripping free. "I had you as my fated mate in this second chance, and I was too broken to see it the first time."
"Harper—"
"Thank you," I whispered to the Moon Goddess, to fate, to whatever force had rewritten my ending. "Thank you for giving me this…"
He kissed me before I could finish, hands sliding into my hair, tilting my face up to meet his mouth. The kiss turned desperate, all teeth and tongue and years of denial burning away in seconds.
His hands wandered—shoulders, spine, the curve of my hips—mapping me with a confidence that suggested he'd memorized my shape from stolen glances. He lifted me again, carried me a few steps to his bed, laid me down like something precious that required careful handling.
Then he covered me, his weight a benediction and a claim. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the pulse point that would bear his mark someday. I arched into him, nails scoring his shoulders, breath coming faster as he moved lower.
Kieran kissed the hollow of my throat, the space between my breasts, traced his tongue across my nipple until I gasped. His hands spread my thighs, settled himself between them, and looked up with something fierce and reverent in his expression.
"Tell me to stop and I will," he said, though the words sounded like they cost him.
"Don't you dare stop," I managed, voice wrecked already.
His mouth descended. The first touch of his tongue against my clit tore a moan from my throat that echoed off the walls.
Kieran groaned in response, the vibration traveling through me.
"Nothing has ever smelled sweeter than you," he said against my flesh, breath hot. "Nothing has ever tasted better."
He took his time, savoring me with a thoroughness that felt like devotion, until pleasure built in waves that crashed higher each time. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him there, hips lifting to meet each stroke of his tongue.
When the orgasm hit, I screamed his name, body convulsing under the onslaught of sensation I'd never experienced with Weston.
He didn't stop until I collapsed boneless against the sheets, breathing like I'd run miles.
Kieran rose, mouth glistening, eyes dark with hunger that hadn't been satisfied. He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue, felt his hardness pressed against my thigh.
"Now," I demanded, pulling him closer.
He positioned himself, the blunt pressure of him against my entrance making us both still. Our eyes locked when he finally pushed inside slowly, inch by devastating inch, until we were joined completely.
The fullness stole my breath. The rightness of it made tears prick my eyes.
This was what completion felt like. Not the hollow performance I'd endured with Weston, but the true connection that rewired every nerve.
He moved, and I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt ancient and new at once. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. Mine clawed his back, leaving marks I wanted him to carry.
"Mine," he growled against my ear, teeth scraping the sensitive skin.
His fangs descended. I felt them graze my throat, the sharp promise of a mark that would bind us permanently. Panic flared through the pleasure.
"Wait," I gasped, hand flying to his jaw. "Not yet."
He froze, breath harsh, eyes wild with barely leashed instinct.
"We still have so much to deal with," I said gently, thumb stroking his cheekbone. "The packs, the politics, my daughter. I need you to trust me a little longer."
The war played out across his face—wolf versus man, instinct versus reason. Finally, he nodded, though it visibly cost him. His fangs retracted.
"After," he said, voice rough with promise and restraint.
"After," I agreed, pulling him back into a kiss.
Kieran drove into me harder, the restraint fracturing into something desperate. I wrapped my legs higher, changed the angle, and pleasure spiraled tight again.
When his hand slipped between us, thumb finding my clitoris, the combination shattered me. I came with his name on my lips, walls clenching around his dick. He followed seconds later, body going rigid, a groan torn from his throat that sounded like relief and agony combined.
We collapsed together, his weight heavy and perfect on top of me. Eventually he rolled, pulling me against his side, our legs tangled, hands still reaching for reassurance that this was real.
Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we couldn't say. Outside, the day pressed against windows, and somewhere beyond these walls, consequences gathered like storm clouds.
This moment wouldn't last forever. We both knew it.
So we lay there in his massive bed, breathing hard, hearts still racing, and let the temporary peace hold us before the world demanded its reckoning.