Bonus Chapter 8

His dark blue eyes bore into mine, sharp and heated, and there’s a low tension in his voice that makes my breath catch.
“I’ve been dying to see you again, did you know that?” His tone is low, gritted between his teeth like he’s holding himself back. “Since yesterday, it’s been bloody torture. You were just down the hall, close enough to breathe in, and yet… so damn far I couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t *reach* you. Me and my wolf—we were suffering, love. You were out there hurting, and we couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
My throat tightens, eyes stinging again. But he’s not finished.
“And that,” Rhys growls, “that was the worst part. Knowing you needed comfort—mine—and having to sit in silence, restrained, while the female I’ve waited my whole bloody life for cried herself alone.”
He pauses for a breath. His voice softens, but only in pitch, not in power.
“So if you want to make it up to me. If you truly want to *fix* what you broke—there’s only one way, Wren.”
He tilts his head slightly, gaze sharp. There’s a smirk ghosting over his lips now, dangerous and amused. “You *never* ask me to stay away from you again.”
My heart thrums wildly as I kneel there, trying to catch up to his intensity.
“No walls,” he adds firmly, almost like an order. “No distance. No more shutting me out because of guilt.”
I blink.
He leans in a little more, his voice like a command. “You accept what this is. What it *should’ve* been all along. You let me in, Wren. You let it happen.”
I gasp, and the tears fall harder.
Not from guilt this time. Not from shame.
From *relief*.
My chest shakes and I can’t speak. I cover my mouth with both hands, trying to stifle the sob that breaks loose. 
He kneels, just slightly, and reaches for me. Not roughly. Not urgently. Just surely.
Rhys lifts me as though I weigh nothing at all, and sits with me in his lap in the armchair.
And I go. Willingly.
My legs fold beside him, my arms wrap around his neck before I even realize what I’m doing. I bury my face in his jumper. His scent is woodsmoke and something clean and male and his, and it wraps around me until I forget how to breathe properly. And yet, it helps my nerves calm down.
His hand cradles the back of my head. His voice is low against my ear. “Shh. Easy, my little Queen. You’re alright. You’re more than alright. I’ve got you.”
I sob again. I can’t stop.
But it’s not painful.
It’s like something damned inside me for years is finally breaking. All the nights praying for the Moon Goddess, all the promises I have done.
“I don’t deserve you,” I sob.
Rhys whispers, “Shh. Don’t say that. You’re everything I ever dreamt of. Beautiful. Kind. Gentle in a world that often forgets how to be. You’ve got a good heart. A clever one, too, according to your family, to Ava. And the way you care for your family? Bloody hell, I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re pure, Wren. You’re *light*.”
I shake in his arms.
He pulls back slightly, brushing my tears away with his knuckles.
“Even if the Moon Goddess hadn’t written your name beside mine, I’d still fall madly in love with you.” 
My eyes widen, and something shifts in my chest. I can barely breathe for how much I feel.
“Would’ve chased you down in every timeline,” Rhys adds. “Every version of me would’ve known you were it—”
I kiss him.
I don’t mean to cut him off like that. I don’t plan it. But my lips are on his before I can second guess myself. It’s soft at first, trembling.
Then he groans.
And suddenly, he’s kissing me back, and it’s *nothing* like the way I’ve been kissing.
He kisses me like a man claiming what he knows it’s his. Like a king taking what he’s waited a lifetime to have. His mouth is hot and sure and demanding, and I’ve never, ever been kissed like this.
I gasp against him, fingers tangling in his jumper. Rhys holds me tighter, deepening the kiss, tilting my chin up with such possessive reverence that I whimper.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless and dazed, trembling in his lap.
The dark blue of his eyes barely rim around the edges. Glinting.
I whisper, my voice shaking but sure, “I’ll do it, Rhys. I’ll do what you asked.”
He arches a brow.
I smile through the leftover tears, my cheeks flaming.
“Because it’s not difficult, baby,” I say, the *baby* part slipping from my lips like it’s always belonged to him. Soft. Sincere. Natural. “It’s… the most selfless thing I’ve ever been asked to do.”
Rhys’s eyes darken as the corner of his mouth lifts, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans in, lips a breath from mine, and then he kisses me.
It’s slower this time, but deeper-possessive. His mouth moves over mine with purpose, and I feel it in my chest, in my fingertips, in the aching press of my thighs.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless and dazed.
I place my palm gently on his chest. “I’m so relieved,” I whisper, letting out the laugh I’ve been holding in, nervous and fluttery. “From the look on your face, I thought you weren’t going to forgive me.”
Rhys huffs a low chuckle, and then that devilish smirk blooms full on his lips. “Forgive you? Sweetheart, I was never truly angry.” He brushes a finger down my flushed cheek. “I just wanted to see that blush crawl up your face… and the little look you give me when you waited for my answer but too bloody polite to press.”
My cheeks burn hotter, and I swat his shoulder. It’s gently, because I can’t really bring myself to be mad. “Like a damn king! You like seeing people on their knees for you, don’t you, your majesty?” I tease, trying to sound bold as I smile into his collar.
He raises a brow, eyes flicking to mine with heat and amusement. “Not *people*, Wren.” His voice drops low, rough as a growl. “You. Even though you’re my Queen, and my Queen bows to no one, seeing you kneel for *me*...” His hand moves to my jaw, tilting my face up. “That made my wolf go bloody feral. He’s clawing inside me, desperate to mark you. To claim what’s his.”
Inside me, my own wolf lets out a high whimper, howling with need. My whole body trembles, a soft gasp escaping as his words wrap around me like heat.
Then he kisses me again. But this time, there’s no softness in it.
It’s heat and hunger, a flame set loose.
His hands slide down my waist, fingers spreading over the curve of my hips as if he’s desperately trying to discover every inch of the shape of me. One hand moves lower, gripping my ass, pulling me tighter against the hard line of him beneath me. I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound greedily, tilting his head to deepen the kiss until I’m dizzy.
The snowfall outside continues, silent and cold behind the glass, but in Rhys’s lap, I feel nothing but fire.
His mouth trails down my jaw, then lower, grazing the skin beneath my ear with his teeth before kissing the spot softly and reverently. My fingers fist in the thick wool of his navy jumper, trying to anchor myself, trying not to fall entirely. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, part of me already has.
His voice rumbles against my skin, “You have no idea what you do to me, my little Queen.”
“Oh, I think I do,” I breathe, flushed and trembling. My voice is barely above a whisper, because it’s all I can manage. “I feel it, too.”
Rhys pulls back just enough to look at me, and for a second, there’s something soft behind the dark blue eyes. Devotion. Relief. That he found me.  
My cheeks go scarlet.
His lips tilt up in a grin. “You’re blushing.”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say, burying my face in his neck.
“But you look so cute when you blush.”
I groan. 
Rhys’s thumb brushes my cheek as he cups my face, and his piercing eyes search mine like they’re trying to etch me into memory.
“My mate,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe I found you.”
I lift my gaze to his and the air goes still, it feels like even the snowfall outside has paused to witness this. Like the moment’s waiting for us to breathe it in properly.
It’s surreal. This whole thing.
A mate. *My* fated mate.
And not just an Alpha. An *Alpha King*.
My cheeks flush with the thought. Again. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.
He smiles as if he can read my thoughts, then leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. I melt.
“You’re real,” I whisper, almost afraid to speak too loud and break the spell.
His lips move over mine with a patience that contrasts the fire brewing beneath his skin. I sigh against him, my fingers gripping the front of his jumper like an anchor.
He deepens the kiss, hand sliding down my back. I can feel the tips of his fingers just brushing the hem of my pale lilac sweater dress. I’m barely breathing.
Then he pulls back slightly, brushing his nose against mine. “If you don’t want it, tell me and I’ll stop.” 
Rhys lifts me gently, one arm under my legs, the other at my back, and lays me on the bed like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Rhys kneels between my open legs, lifting the hem of my dress with a worshipful slowness, kissing his way up my thigh.
And then it hits me.
What if I smell weird? 
I showered just now, but I only used the plain soap. I didn’t use my favorite soap or perfume.
What if I don’t taste nice? 
How mortifying would that be? 
Oh no. Oh *Moon Goddess*, no.
“Stop, please!” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Rhys instantly sits back on his heels, giving me a surprised look. He withdraws his warm hands that have been in my legs, and I want to put them back, feeling bereft without his touch.
Oh, Moon Goddess! 
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I’m sorry. I pushed too much, didn’t I? Of course, you’re not ready yet. You just... Bloody hell! What was I thinking?” Rhys frowns, berating himself, and I can’t stand it. 
“I’m sorry!” I burst out. 
He blinks, looking confused. “What are you sorry for, Wren? I’m the one who pushed you too hard. I shouldn’t have taken you to bed, I should have at least made you eat something first. Talked more to you before... Fuck. You’re just so gorgeous, it’s hard to keep my bloody hands off you.” 
He makes to stand up, and I panic.
I lurch forward, grabbing his jumper and wrapping my arms around his neck, whimpering as I press myself against him. 
“Hey, what’s this?” Rhys’s hands come up to steady me, patting my back. “It’s okay. Shit, you’re shaking. I didn’t mean to upset you. Hey. Hey.” 
He sits down again on the bed and pulls me into his lap, cradling me close, rocking slightly as though he’s trying to soothe a child. It only makes me feel safe.
“It’s all right. Nothing happens that you don’t want to. Did I scare you? Wren, my little Queen, you have to talk to me.” 
“I just, I’ve never had… I mean, uh, a man’s mouth there... well, obviously I had sex with Ste, uhm, during the mark,” I trail off, and Rhys tenses. So I hush to say, “But I’ve never done anything else before that.” I confess miserably, unable to meet his eyes, so I bury my face deeper into his jumper, “What if you don’t like it? What if I taste weird? Or it’s gross? Or—”
He silences me with a big, warm hand over my mouth.
“I’m going to stop you right there, Wren,” he says, firm but gentle. “You’re worrying far too much about something you absolutely should not be worrying about. Like I told you before, there’s not a part of your body I don’t want to know. To touch. To taste. You’re the most gorgeous, sexy, sweetest person I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you’re mine. My fated mate.”
I sniff, blinking up at him.
“Since yesterday, when I first saw you, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. All I have to do is think of you and I get hard. Bloody inconvenient, to be honest. But it’s more than lust. It’s you. It’s all of you. Your sweet scent, your eyes, the way your cheeks go pink every five minutes. I’m obsessed, little Queen.”
My face is definitely pink now. Possibly red.
“Sex is messy. It’s strange sometimes. But there’s no right or wrong. We figure out what we enjoy together. Try something, don’t like it? We stop. Simple. You are my mate and we’ve got the rest of our lives, love. And just so you know, you *already* smell delicious. I reckon I’ll get addicted to the taste of you the moment I start.”
I squeak. There’s no other word for it.
Oh, dear Goddess. 
He leans back just enough to look at me properly. “You good now?”
I nod, cheeks flaming. “Sorry for overreacting. I panicked, and then when you stopped touching me… I panicked even more.”
His brows knit together. “I stopped because you said stop, and I thought that’s what you wanted. I won’t make that mistake again. All right?”
“All right…” I breathe, nodding. Then I reach for his hand and guide it back to my waist. My voice is barely a whisper when I beg, “Please, Rhys… don’t stop touching me.”
His dark blue eyes darken with heat as they lock on mine. “Not a bloody chance, Wren,” Rhys growls. “I’ve only just begun.”