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  She banded her arms and legs around his shoulders and hips and surrendered to the feel of him. To the wildness he stoked higher and higher with each second.

  Mine.

  A feral claim that rang wanton and unfamiliar in her head, but so profound it resonated beyond mere physical interpretation. The space behind her sternum swelled. Pulsed and reached for something unseen but desperately needed.

  Mine.

  The reflex and training she’d earned over the last few weeks clicked into place and pushed her into motion.

  One shift.

  One unexpected use of leverage and she was out from under him, her knees braced on either side of his hips and his cock a thick enticement slick with her arousal against his belly. She gripped it, positioned herself above it and braced for the sweet feel of him sliding home. Filling her completely.

  But the world spun before she could claim him. Her shoulders hit the mattress and her breath whooshed out of her as Tate’s face flashed primitive and primal above her. And then he was inside her. Buried until there was no separation between them, his teeth biting mercilessly into the tender juncture where her neck and shoulders met.

  His snarl fired through her. Rained a flammable tempest on the broiling wildness inside her until there was no place left to go but upward. Shooting into the limitless sky and forcing her release. “Tate!”

  A whimper, maybe. Or a shout. In her head it was the latter, her body zinging as her sex clutched his shaft. Fisted it eagerly without even a twinge of remorse.

  The tightness around her heart expanded. Burgeoned until she thought her skin and the bones surrounding her chest would have no choice but to rend and split apart. She dug her heels into his flanks and sunk her nails into his shoulders.

  His hips bucked against hers and his cock jerked inside her, his teeth bearing down until pain and pleasure were all she knew. All she needed. “Tate.”

  Maybe it was the sound of her tremulous voice. Or the shudder that wracked her body. But the indescribable pinch of Tate’s teeth at her neck lessened in an instant. Replaced with the tender stroke of his tongue and the soothing glide of his lips. He rolled his hips against hers, a languid motion sated with pleasure.

  The tug inside her chest strengthened. Drew taut and full. Ready and waiting.

  Tate lifted his head, his eyelids heavy over his rich amber eyes. His gaze that of deeply pleased and satiated male—until he focused on the spot at her neck. “Fuck. Elise...”

  In a blink, the tight sensation behind her heart ebbed and retreated, still strong, but no longer stretched and reaching forward as it had been before.

  Tate tensed inside her arms and steered her head with a firm grip of her chin to one side for a better look.

  Her eagle ruffled its feathers and crooned a soft chuffing sound in her head.

  Your pain is his pain.

  Or more that he perceived he’d caused her pain. Which was so damned far from the truth, she almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the idea. Especially with her sex still quivering from the aftershocks of the release he’d given her.

  She jerked her chin free. “Tate, look at me.” When he wouldn’t comply and peel his focus from her neck right away, she shifted so he had no other choice but to meet her eyes. “I’m fine.”

  Doubt.

  Fear.

  Gut-wrenching pain.

  It was all right there. Laid bare in his expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His gaze slid back to the throbbing spot on her neck. “I was fine. Had him under control...”

  And then she’d pushed him. Challenged her alpha until he’d had no choice but to respond. But what he didn’t get was what he’d given her tonight. What he’d unleashed with every touch and word spoken. “Tate, I need you to look at me. Really look at me and listen to what I’m going to tell you.”

  For a second, he looked like he’d balk. Like an internal war raged inside him with a riotous jury raining judgment in his head, commanding he gut himself with his bare hands. But then he swallowed and met her stare.

  She teased her fingers along his jawline. Savored the soft brush of his beard then traced his lips. “I loved it.”

  He swallowed hard, but held his tongue.

  “I like the words,” she said. “All the things you say. How you say them. I love your hands on me and the feel of you against me. Inside me.” She wrapped her arms around him and skimmed her fingertips soft as a whisper along his spine. “And I love the side you just showed me. Including your bite.”

  “You haven’t seen it,” he ground out. “You’re bruised already. There’s no telling how bad it’ll be come morning.”

  She smiled at that, part of her tempted to scurry from underneath him and see what it looked like for herself. Instead, she tilted her head just enough to give him a good look and caressed one finger above it. “Then I’ll be able to remember how I earned it.”

  His expression darkened, a hint of the predator who’d mastered her just moments before warring with the male convinced he’d harmed his mate. “You should heal it.”

  “Like hell I will.” Where the bold retort came from she couldn’t say, but it mingled with the low, throaty chuckle of a woman growing bolder not just with her sexuality but her place in her new life. “You remember that first night? How fascinated I was by your come and how you said you wanted to mark me with it one day?” She tightened her legs around his hips and smoothed her feet along the backs of his thighs, rolling her hips against his. Luxuriating in the slickness of their combined release. “You got your wish. It just so happens you marked me in more ways than one.”

  Whether it was the memory she’d dragged to the forefront of his mind, or the feel of her moving against him, his tension eased enough to let the beast in him retreat and the tight press of his lips softened. “It’s not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?” She traced the outline of her name above his heart. “A tattoo. Your release on or inside me. Your bite. They’re all a claim. A statement. A declaration. A vow.” Though, now that she said as much out loud, a part of her wondered at the powerful tug behind her chest. At the sudden loss she’d felt as it nestled back behind her heart. Was that the bond? And if she’d been ready to offer it—to fully seal the fated connection between them—then why didn’t she feel the tether to him now?

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His words rattled her awareness, a sub context she couldn’t quite grasp in the moment buzzing through the hazy edges of her mind. For a moment, she was tempted to analyze it. To let her thoughts churn, twist and spin around the topic until she found the mysterious thread tugging her instincts.

  But if she did that, she’d lose the moment. Plus, the one thing she’d learned in working a physical therapy internship, some things were simply meant to be understood in their own time. Whatever it was she was missing would come to her. Until then, she could soothe her mate, linger in his arms and bask in the memories of what he’d given her. “You didn’t hurt me, Tate. You made me feel wonderful. Beautiful and free.”

  He frowned at her like he wanted to argue. Even dragged in a breath as though winding up for another self-scathing retort.

  So, she opted for a diversion. One guaranteed to get his mind refocused and let her indulge in the cabin’s cozy yet well-equipped bathroom. “You know, that claw-foot tub looks amazing, but I haven’t had a chance to put it to good use. I’m thinking a long soak with my mate planning the next few days might be in order.”

  The ploy worked, confusion and the promise of dallying with her skin to skin knocking him visibly off-kilter. “What’s happening the next few days?”

  She smiled and threaded her fingers in his hair at the back of his head, urging him close enough to whisper her words against his lips. “I’m moving in with my mate.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  One major bonus when it
came to belonging to a clan was that help was never more than a phone call away. Or in this case, movers were never more than a phone call away. In the space of twenty-four hours after Elise’s soul quest, Jenny, Naomi, Katy and Jade had not only huddled to pack Elise’s things, but gathered a crew of men to deliver them to the cabin shortly after that. And while Tate would’ve been happy to do all the packing and hauling himself, the private, quiet time someone else doing the work had earned him with Elise was hands down the best gift his clan could have given him. A Volán version of a honeymoon, as it was.

  Already done with putting away the larger items Elise had directed him to handle, Tate stretched out on the queen-size bed, one arm anchored between his head and the pillow and the other resting easy on his bare chest, not a thing on but his track pants. In the last three days, they were the most clothing he’d worn, and he’d done his damndest to make sure Elise stuck to nothing. Right now, though, she was cross-legged on the floor in only his T-shirt, unpacking all manner of clothes from a cardboard box, refolding them, and then precisely stacking them in an order he wouldn’t even try to pretend he understood. “Wouldn’t it be faster just to hang them in the closet when you pull them out?”

  The smile she answered with was one he’d grown addicted to. A mix of playful and pure happiness. “I didn’t have a chance to go through things when Priest moved us to Eureka Springs, so I thought I’d go through them now. Maybe see if there’s anything I don’t wear anymore that’s more useful being donated.”

  Well, that kind of made sense. Though, even if she gave half of it away, he still couldn’t figure out how she’d ever wear it all.

  Box empty, she pushed it aside, stood and braced her hands on her hips, the action lifting the hem of his T-shirt just enough to grace him with a glimpse of her delectable hips. He was so distracted by the view, it took him an extra beat or two to figure out she was frowning at the stack she’d created.

  “Don’t tell me your stacks got mixed up.”

  For a second, she looked at him like he’d lost his mind, then comprehension settled in her gaze and she aimed a cute little scowl his way. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Not even close.” Using more speed than was fair given his warrior gifts, he shot forward, snatched her around the waist and tumbled her to the bed. “But I don’t like seeing you frown, so what gives?”

  Before she could answer, her stomach growled.

  Right behind it, she threw her head back and set free a laugh so rich and full his coyote settled in with a contented sigh. Eyes still smiling, she cocked her head at a playful angle and circled her arms around his neck. “Clearly, I’m hungry.”

  So was he. But he had a feeling he’d already pushed her about as far and fast as her body could go sexually for today and it was only late afternoon. “How about we take a break and dig into one of the casseroles Naomi brought?”

  Another bonus of clan life. One thing Voláns did with great abandon was celebrate good times and enjoy great food, and Naomi, in particular, was one hell of a cook.

  Apparently, his mate had already charted the same plan, just with an alternate route. “I was hoping I could talk you into warming a casserole up while I hung the last of my stuff in the closet.”

  Oh, no. She’d worked enough for today. Had, in fact, plowed through box after box with a single-minded focus he couldn’t help but appreciate. But now it was time for her to play. And for him to share something he’d had Jade sneak in with the rest of the boxes they’d delivered. He lowered his head enough to slide his nose alongside hers and breathed in her sweet, exotic scent. “If you put me in charge of food prep you’re risking turning Naomi’s food into something inedible.”

  “Right. Like you can’t preheat and pop a frozen casserole in the oven.”

  “True. But if you’re hanging clothes you won’t be able to open the present I had Jade bring for you.”

  Her whole expression shifted, sheer delight and openness beaming up at him like a rising sun on a spring day. “I like presents.” With that she unceremoniously shoved him to one side, scrambled out from underneath him and hustled to the kitchen. “Which casserole? Chicken tortilla, or beef and bean taco?”

  “Is both an option?”

  A sound between a snort and a giggle drifted back to him. “Honest to God, I don’t know where you put it all. The way you eat, you ought to be as big as this cabin. We’re gonna have to ask Naomi for more provisions.”

  God, he loved seeing her happy. She’d been addictive even when she was shy and uncertain, but the last three days, her newfound confidence and joy had shifted to something more fundamental to his makeup. A necessity as vital as the blood pulsing through his veins.

  And that mark on her neck...his coyote all but howled every time he saw it, even if the man in him still wrestled with the guilt that came with how brutally he’d put it there.

  True to what she’d said that night, Elise didn’t seem the least bit fazed by its presence. Hell, if anything, he caught her running her finger over it and adding just enough pressure she couldn’t help but feel the bruise. And nearly every time she did it, there was a tiny smile on her face. A wistful look that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he might eventually be able to let his hunter side out.

  “I thought you were getting me a present.”

  Yep. No shortage of confidence for Elise these days. Not where sass was concerned, or her rapidly rising sexuality. He rolled to the edge of the bed, folded over and slid free the unmarked cardboard box he’d stowed underneath the mattress. “How long will it take to preheat?”

  “I don’t know. Fifteen—maybe twenty minutes.” She padded around the corner and planted her hands on her hips. “You’ve got more experience using this oven than I do.”

  He chuckled at that. “I’ve never so much as touched a knob on that thing. If I can’t cook it in a microwave or a grill, it doesn’t get eaten. Not if I’m the one making dinner, anyway.” He laid the smaller wood box out where she could see it, scooted back so his shoulders were propped against the padded headboard and patted the space in between his legs. “Come here.”

  Eagerly, she crawled toward him and settled between his wide knees like she’d done it a thousand times before. “What is it?”

  He sat the box in her lap and guided her backward so she rested against his torso, giving him an optimal view for the reveal. “So, you know how I said my mom was a healer?”

  “Yeah.”

  He fingered the latch that held the dark pecan wood top panel closed. “Well, she was pretty respected. Nowhere near as powerful as you or your grandmother was, but no slouch either. Most of all, everyone in the clan trusted her. It was a tradition back then for the healer primo or prima to pick one person to maintain the clan records and healing knowledge.” He opened the wide cover. “My mom was that person.”

  Inside, a book over a foot wide and nearly as tall lay nestled in black velvet. The plain black leather cover was soft from years of use and obviously tanned by hand at a time well before today’s modern standards.

  Leaving it in the protective case, Elise smoothed her fingers over the top of the book. “I don’t understand. I thought healers just used their magic to fix people like I did for you.”

  “That’s part of it. But the older generations blended herbs and handcrafted remedies, too. Plus, the records in that book include a whole lot more than just healer knowledge. All the customs and rituals surrounding presect are in there, along with some of the stuff that taught Draven how to tap into the darker side of his magic. That’s why not just anyone was trusted with it. That kind of knowledge in the wrong hands is dangerous stuff.”

  Carefully, Elise lifted the cover.

  The spine crackled, and the thick parchment paper whispered as though relieved to feel the touch of a healer once more.

  “Tate, you can’t give me this. It was your mom’s.”
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  “Technically, it’s yours. I’d planned to give it to the healer prima whenever we found them. I just never imagined that would end up being my mate.”

  She turned the page and traced the intricate markings along one side, the black and red ink that made the tribal knots faded by time. “These look like Priest’s tattoos.”

  “That’s because they’re protection marks. You know Draven’s dark magic got trapped in Priest when he recaptured the magic his brother stole from the primos. What you might not have known was that mine and Jade’s moms used those marks to help him find his balance. To fight the darkness.”

  She shut the book with a decisive snap, closed the wooden cover and sat the box to the side like she’d just discovered a snake inside. “I don’t want to know anything about that stuff.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s your job to know about that stuff. More than that, you’ll need to find another person worthy of keeping the records like my mom did.”

  She frowned and opened her mouth to answer, but a knock at the door cut her short.

  Before she could scramble off the bed to see who it was, Tate caught her at the waist and hauled her back. “Woman, if you think I’m letting you answer the door in only my T-shirt, you’re out of your mind.” He chin-lifted toward the stack of clothes still waiting on the floor. “You grab some pants and I’ll run interference.”

  Funny. Outside of Elise’s things being delivered along with some much needed provisions, Priest and everyone else had left the two of them alone—texts to check in and extra razzing from Jade aside. And while he’d expected reality to come calling eventually, he’d at least expected a heads-up by phone rather than a house call.

  He opened the door and just barely managed to contain a startled step backward.

  Not just one guest.

  A whole damned crew, including Priest, Kateri, Alek and Jade.

  Tate sized them up in one swoop. “You guys realize this cabin barely has enough space for two. Let alone a whole damned council.”