Chapter 30
I didn’t know where my tears ended and his hands began. We hit the floor like we were falling through each other—desperate, breathless, undone.
Pierce’s mouth was on me before I could ask for it again. His lips moved with slow hunger, reverent, like he was trying to learn me all over again, imprint me onto his tongue.
“You’ve always felt like home,” he murmured into my skin, voice wrecked. “And I’ve been starving for it.”
I tugged his shirt over his head, palms roaming his chest like I had something to claim. We were fire and ache and apology, tangled in sweat and breath and that deep, trembling need that had been buried for far too long.
His mouth found my throat again, dragging over the curve of my shoulder. Then lower and lower.
“Still mine,” he whispered against my chest, kissing the curve of my breast, tongue flicking before he sucked gently at the skin. “But only if you want to be.”
God.
My fingers tangled in his hair as I arched into him. His mouth worshipped me, tongue moving with maddening patience—soft where I expected teeth, rough where I wanted mercy.
Pierce kissed down my stomach, groaning when I trembled beneath him.
“How much I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “So fucking missed the way you fell apart in my hands.”
I whimpered as his hands slid down my thighs, gripping just enough to make me feel his hunger for me.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled, voice rasping over my skin. “And I’ll give it. I’ll give you anything, little fox.”
Instead of using words, I just parted my thighs without breaking eye contact with Pierce. He didn’t rush. He devoured me.
Slow, deliberate, building me with each stroke of his tongue, each grip of his hands as I gasped and shuddered and moaned his name like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. My body arched, fingers clawed the floor and the back of his neck.
My voice broke when he rose above me again—lips slick, eyes wrecked, breath shaking like he was holding back something primal. I pulled him down to kiss me—deep, filthy and honest.
“Now,” I breathed against his mouth.
When he slid inside me, slow and deep, I gasped—hips rising to meet his like instinct had taken over, like my body knew exactly how to forgive before my mind ever could.
He cursed against my lips, his forehead dropping to mine. “Goddess, Lyra…”
It wasn’t violent or rushed. It was everything.
Every moment we didn’t speak and were apart. Every second we hurt. Every time we reached for each other in the dark and found nothing but air—this was all of it.
Raw and thick between us.
His pace quickened, breath ragged. He grabbed my thigh, anchoring me, holding me close as if afraid I might slip away.
“You’re finally mine,” he whispered, eyes dark. “You’ll always be mine.”
My spine stiffened and I pressed a hand to his chest, halting his rhythm just enough. “No,” I breathed and he froze.
“I chose to come back,” I said, voice firmer. “But if you try to cage me again, I’ll burn you to the ground.”
His breath shuddered, and for a beat, I saw it—the restraint, the fear of losing me all over again. Then he nodded.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay…”
He kissed me softer this time, like he understood. Like he meant it. And when we moved again, it was different. Still desperate, still burning, but this time I led the rhythm.
I was close—too close. My nails dragged down his back, hips rolling harder against him, the friction driving both of us toward the edge.
Then his voice cracked against my ear, “Mark me.”
My breath caught. “What—”
“Bite me,” he said, voice hoarse. “Even if it doesn’t work. Even if your human teeth can’t tear deep enough. Try. I want your scar and fire. I want your name carved into me.”
His eyes locked with mine, glassy and wild when Pierce pressed his forehead to mine.
“Rip through my skin, my flesh, my fucking soul if you have to. Just… make me yours. I need to feel it. I need you to be the last thing I ever belong to.”
I stared at him, at the Alpha who once destroyed me, who now begged not to own—but to belong.
“If there’s even a chance the bond comes back… I want it. I want it all. I want you.” His hand curled around the back of my neck, not tight—just grounding. “Let me belong to you. Let me wear your mark. Let me be yours, my Luna.”
Something shifted inside me.
I could’ve told him it was foolish. That it wouldn’t work. That I wasn’t a werewolf, didn’t have claws or fangs or anything that made a mark real. But the bond between us had never been about biology.
It was pain and desire. Fury and forgiveness. Fire. And I wanted to burn him back into me.
I leaned in, slow and deliberate, dragging my mouth over the curve of his neck. His hands fisted in my hair on the back of my head, fingers digging into my thighs.
When I bit down—as hard as I could, putting all the strength I possessed into my jaw—he growled so low I felt it in my chest.
Pierce’s hips bucked against mine roughly and his hand clutched at my waist like he didn’t know whether to pull me closer or fall apart right there.
“You feel that?” I whispered, teeth grazing the skin I’d just bruised. “That’s mine.”
“Yes,” he choked, voice barely human. “Fucking Goddess, yes.”
I ground down against him, the friction between us maddening, wet, nearly unbearable. His mouth crashed into mine again—hungry, trembling, like he’d been starving since the moment I left.
We moved together like we were chasing something holy—sweat-slick skin, whispered curses and needed to claw its way back to life. He thrust up to meet me, and I took all of him.
Slow. Deep. Deliberate.
He whispered my name like prayer and punishment, and when he looked up at me, pupils blown wide, lips parted, I felt it.
“I’m yours,” he groaned, like it hurt. “I’ll always be yours.”
* * *
Waking up in his arms didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like I could finally breathe without pain.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t wake up gasping, fighting invisible hands. His warmth is steady, grounding, and wrapped around me like a second skin.
Pierce’s arm was heavy over my waist, like he didn’t trust sleep not to steal me away. His breath was slow against the back of my neck. Warm. Real. His fingers twitched where they curled around my wrist.
Possessive even in sleep. And if it had been long months ago, I might’ve hated that. Now? I just memorized the weight of it, in case it was gone tomorrow.
I eased out of bed, careful not to wake him. He didn’t stir—just murmured my name once, barely audible, before his breathing evened out again.
The kitchen floor was freezing, and the apartment still smelled faintly of him—smoke and skin. I poured coffee in silence, eyes fixed on the window’s fogged glass, on the alley I used to stare at during the worst nights of my life.
The sound of quiet footsteps broke the silence behind me. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. Pierce’s voice was rough with sleep. “You always run before I get the chance to ruin it again?”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re not that powerful.”
There was a pause. No sarcasm or ‘clever’ reply. Just silence—and then, softer, “Did you mean it? What you’ve said tonight.”
I didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “Yeah,” I said simply. “I meant it. I forgive you.”
A slow exhale, like he’d been holding it for weeks, came with the drop of his shoulders, relief moved through him like a wave. Relief broke across his face, raw and shameless.
“I’d get on my knees right now,” he said, voice low, “but I think you prefer me on my back.”
I just raised an eyebrow on that one and saw that familiar glint in his icy eyes—that mix of amusement and danger he wore like armor.
“What? You marked me, remember?” he grinned. “I’m just trying to be a good boy now. Obedient and loyal. Maybe even housebroken.”
I walked toward him, slow and steady. He didn’t back up, didn’t flinch. His smile stayed until I was close enough to grab him by the throat and slam him back against the counter.
His grin faltered, lips parting in surprise—but not fear, not even shock, just heat. My fingers dug into the fresh bite on his neck, pressing into the bruised skin until he hissed.
“Listen very carefully, Pierce,” I said, voice low, dark. “I don’t care how grateful or horny you feel right now. I didn’t stay because I forgot what you did. I stayed because I own it. So don’t you dare open that smug mouth again unless you’re ready to choke on how much you belong to me now. Understand?”
His pupils blew wide and God help me, the bastard smiled.
“Fuck, I love when you get that mean and possessive,” he said, breath shaky. “Makes me want to kneel and beg. Maybe I’m a masochist after all.”
I released him, slow and firm, watching the way his body shuddered with the restraint he didn’t know how to hide. Pierce didn’t move before I turned back to my coffee, kept his jaw clenched and eyes on me like I was the only thing he’d ever bow to.
I didn’t hear him move—I just felt it. His arms around me from behind, tight and unrelenting. He pulled me against him and nudged his face into my neck, right over his mark scar.
“You forgive me and nearly kill me in the same breath—that’s what I call a real love.”
I looked over my shoulder, lips curving. “Don’t make me regret my choice.”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t dare, little fox.”
