Chapter 71

Amelia

He was shaking.

Not just with rage or adrenaline or whatever poison still clung to his bloodstream, but with something deeper, more primal. A kind of raw vulnerability I had never seen from him, not even at his most wounded. Richard, the unshakable Alpha King, looked like he was barely holding himself together, his pupils wide, his breathing shallow, his hands gripping the sheets like he didn’t know what was real anymore.

I touched his chest softly. Just a brush of my palm, but it was enough to make him flinch. His skin was fever-hot, muscles tight beneath the surface, but the second he felt me, something shifted. He exhaled like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, the lines in his brow relaxing just slightly under my fingers.

He looked at me like I was a lighthouse in a storm. Like he’d forgotten how to steer himself until I walked through the door.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, voice cracked and low. “I need you.”

His mouth crashed into mine before the last word left his lips. The kiss was clumsy at first, desperate. He tasted like salt and sweat and something sharp from deep within him. I didn’t hesitate. My body surged forward to meet him like we’d done this a thousand times before. There was no hesitation. No permission asked. Just need.

He grabbed the backs of my thighs and dragged me further into his lap. I felt him instantly, hot and hard and unrelenting against the thin barrier of my underwear. He pulled me flush against him and rocked his hips up, like his body was acting without him. Like instinct had taken over.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured into my skin, dragging his mouth across my collarbone. “You never did.”

I tipped my head back, gasping when his teeth grazed the spot where Adam's old mark had been. My fingers dug into his shoulders. “Then show me.”

He growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and flipped me onto my back in one fast, practiced motion. My legs spread instinctively to accommodate him, my breath catching as his weight settled over me. I felt completely surrounded, wrapped in his scent, his heat, his presence.

He pinned my wrists above my head, lacing our fingers together.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice a low rasp.

“I’m yours.”

He shuddered.

“Mine.”

His mouth returned to my throat, and when he bit down, just a little harder than before, my back arched, a strangled noise leaving my throat. I was already soaked. Already aching. My body betrayed me without shame.

There was no patience. No slow buildup. We moved like animals, like we’d both been starved for years and finally caught our prey. He dragged my panties down my thighs and put his hand underneath my dress like he couldn’t bear to wait. I cried out, grinding into his palm, my head thrown back.

He was panting. “You’re already so wet for me.”

“Of course I am,” I breathed. “I’ve needed this for so long.”

He didn’t answer, just pulled himself out and pushed inside me with a slow, brutal thrust.

The stretch was overwhelming. Perfect. He didn’t stop. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He was too far gone. And the truth was, so was I. Every nerve in my body was lit, hypersensitive. Every drag of his hips punched a new sound from my throat. I wrapped my legs around him, locked my ankles at his back, pulled him in deeper.

“Fuck, Amelia,” he gasped, mouth hot against my cheek. “You feel like heaven.”

He rutted into me like he couldn’t help it, like this was the only thing that could bring him back from whatever edge he’d been dangling off. I held onto him, scratching at his back, kissing his jaw, his mouth, wherever I could reach.

We talked each other through it, murmuring nonsense and sacred truths. I told him I was his. Over and over until the words barely had meaning. Until they became fact.

When I came, it felt like dying. My vision went white, my ears rang, and I could barely breathe.

He followed seconds later, thrusting deep with a choked groan, biting into the slope of my neck just below the old mark.

We collapsed into each other.

Our bodies tangled, our breathing ragged. My skin was covered in sweat, and my thighs trembled, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not while he was still pressed against me. Not while I still felt him inside me.

Eventually, the silence grew too loud.

His hand stayed on my hip. My cheek rested on his shoulder. Neither of us said a word. The moment felt fragile, like if either of us acknowledged it out loud, it would crumble.

But something pulsed beneath my skin.

A slow, burning warmth.

My fingers found my collar. My breath caught.

The mark, the one I’d had for years, dull and faded, was glowing faintly under my skin. Not sore, but not neutral either. Changing.

I bolted upright.

Richard sat up instantly, his eyes flashing.

“It’s…” I reached up again, fingertips brushing the edges. “It’s starting to—.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I felt it when I—” He stopped himself.

“You bit me.”

His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t mean to mark you. I didn’t mean to take it that far.”

I stared at him, heart thudding.

“Richard,” I said, swallowing hard, “this has to be just physical. No marks. No feelings. Nothing that would jeopardize the campaign.”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded instead. “Just physical.”

“Just physical,” I repeated, even though the words felt like ash in my mouth.

I got up.

Slowly, carefully, like peeling myself out of a dream I wasn’t ready to leave. My legs were sore and shaky, and I didn’t bother to hide it. He watched me the whole time, his eyes following every movement.

I found my underwear and shoes. The scent of him clung to me. My lips were still swollen. My thighs still slick. My skin burned in places I didn’t even know he’d touched.

I didn’t speak as I dressed. I didn’t trust my voice not to crack.

When I turned back to him, he was still in the bed, chest bare, the sheets rumpled low over his hips. He looked ruined, but content.

Because we both knew I’d be back.

Richard

She kissed me first.

My wolf hasn’t shut up since. Not for a second.

I keep replaying it. Her thighs trembling against my hips. Her breath hot in my ear. The way she moaned when I first pushed into her. The way she clenched around me, sobbing my name. The desperate, clawing rhythm of her body beneath mine. She came like the world was ending. Like I’d ruined her for anyone else.

And god help me, I hope I did.

I’ve never had anything like that. I’ve had sex, plenty of it. I’ve even had intimacy. But this? This was something else. Something elemental. Like my soul recognized hers through her body. Like I wasn’t meant to touch anyone else again.

I felt it when I bit her.

The mark shifting under my teeth. Her body opening to me in a way I had no right to expect. I felt it like a second heartbeat.

And when she sat up, when she touched her neck and looked at me with wide, stunned eyes, I knew what she’d felt too.

It was real.

She didn’t say goodbye. But she left everything behind. Her scent, her heat, the ache in my chest.

I should have said something. I should’ve told her she didn’t have to leave.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let her go.

The mark she left on my shoulder is still fresh. My skin is still flushed from where her hands had been. I was still aching from how tight she was. I could still taste her in my mouth.

We agreed to just keep it physical.

To not let it develop into something that could destroy the campaign.

I knew Amelia wasn't just saying this to shield herself from gossip. Far more than that—she was looking out for me.

But there’s nothing temporary about this.

My body knows hers now. And I will never, ever stop craving her.

I want her every night. I want her shaking beneath me, panting into my throat. I want her eyes when she begs for me. I want her nails in my skin. Her mouth open. Her voice hoarse from saying my name.

I want to fuck her until she forgets anyone else ever existed.

And I want to kiss her like it means something.

Because it does.