Bonus Chapter 9

And then he kisses me, and this time—
This time, it *blazes*.
His hands roam my sides, mapping my curves through the knit of my dress, leaving behind trails of heat that make my stomach flutter. His mouth moves with growing hunger, devouring every sound I make, every tremble, every sigh.
The snow outside keeps falling, silent and slow. But here in Rhys’s lap, wrapped in his arms, I burn brighter than any flame.
And I never want it to stop.
His hands reach out, thumbing the bottom hem of my dress like he’s considering whether he should remove it gently or rip the fabric from my body. 
“When you were unconscious, baby… I couldn’t bloody breathe.” Rhys focuses on his fingers, still tugging at my dress. “I’ve never felt like that before. I’ve had panics before. Kingdom crises, dark shit. Ava knows… But this? You? It was…” 
I reach out and caress his forearm to comfort him. I get this feeling Rhys’s an actions kind of man, so I’m not oblivious to this being a vulnerable moment for him. 
His gaze lifts and lands on mine. Intense. Raw. “You’re my fated mate, Wren. My sweet, bloody perfect, long-awaited little mate.” 
I hiss in a harsh inhale. 
He couldn’t breathe while I was unconscious, and I can’t breathe right now. 
“You don’t get it, poppet,” Rhys murmurs, his rough thumb grazing my thigh. “There’s no maybe here. No second-guessing. I love you. I reckon I loved you from the second I clapped eyes on you—no, scratch that—I think I fell when I caught the faintest bloody trace of your sweet scent like a madman.”
I blink. And I think. And I try to absorb the weight of his words.
For so long, I asked the Moon Goddess for a mate who’d love me like this. With such surety. With no qualifiers. I stopped believing she was listening. I stopped believing I could get her blessing. 
Until now. 
My palms land on his pecs, and I almost moan that I can feel just the shape of his defined muscles under his jumper. Then I slide them up over his broad chest until my arms link around his neck. 
“Thank the Goddess,” I breathe, “because I don’t think I could bear loving you the way I already do… and not having you feel the same.” Then I kiss him. 
I pour all myself, all my feelings into it. Into him. Us. 
And in his arms, the whole world rights itself.
Knowing I’ve found my fated mate and he loves me makes me feel like things that are wrong aren’t so insurmountable. The guilt. The mess of my mistakes. My spirals. My anxiety. In his big arms, everything feels better. 
We undress each other slowly, slowly agonizingly. He kisses me through it all. And then suddenly, we’re bare. Every inch of skin feels awakened under his hands.
It’s reverent. Worshipful. *Delicious*.
I don’t want to think Rhys has already done his fair share of fucking before me. 
And although I’m not a virgin anymore, I have the sinking suspicion that I’m about to make love for the first time in my life because I can’t place a name for what Stephen and I had done. 
Stripped naked, our clothes splayed across the floor, we take a minute to admire each other for the first time like this. 
I think all my body is flushed. Yet, I don’t feel a shred of shyness. 
For the first time in my life, I *want* to be seen.
I already know a little bit about Rhys’s fierce heart. His sharp mind. 
But his body? Oh, Goddess...
He’s sculpted like a dream—a king carved from strength and control. No rough edges. Just raw male beauty and power.
Rhys’s big hands cup my head, and he kisses me as we tumble back onto the bed, sheets fresh and cool against our overheated skin. But the only thing I can feel is him—his weight on top of me, his heat, his intensity.
One hand trails down my body with skilled patience. I arch when he reaches my breast, his palm kneading gently, then rolling my nipple between clever fingers.
And then his mouth is there.
He sucks. He licks. He nips. He teases until I’m gasping, trembling. He makes me see stars even though it is still morning. 
And then he moves to the other and does the same. 
“Ahhh! Rhys, Rhys,” I moan, my voice high and needy, his name tumbling out in prayer. Thank the Goddess for the soundproof walls.
Goddess, he hasn’t even gotten inside me, hasn’t even touched my clit, and I could come. He’s got me keyed up in a way I have never experienced. Not with my fingers and much less with Stephen. 
“Hmm, yes, Wren?” he hums, dragging his lips through the valley of my breasts. His accent coats every word in sinful honey.
“I feel like… like—”
One of his fingers swirls over my inner thigh, and I completely forget what I was saying.
“You feel like you’re going to come?” he asks as he sinks two fingers into me with maddening ease.
I look down, dazed—my breasts glisten with his saliva, my nipples stiffened to hard points. 
His dark blue eyes glow in my direction while his fingers twist inside me. “Yeah, I can tell,” Rhys mutters, smug.
Good Goddess.
“How?” I pant, hips chasing his hand.
“Hmm… Because I can feel you, baby. Even unmarked, you’re bloody loud under my skin.” His gaze flicks to my bare neck, then he smirks devilishly. Wicked. “And besides—your body’s giving you away.” 
His fingers keep working me slow and deep, and I can feel the blush spreading.
“You got this pretty pink flush that started on your cheeks.” Rhys’s there, hovering over my face. He kisses my cheeks in turn. “Then crept down your neck, here.” His mouth grazes over the exact spot, making me shiver. “And then your gorgeous chest.” This time his lips drag over my collarbones, his fingers still working my pussy at a painfully slow pace. “And then these breasts. Bloody hell. I think I’m obsessed with them almost as much as I’m obsessed with you.” He groans and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
My back bows off the bed. 
“Look at you, Wren. Pretty sure if I tried, I could make you come just by playing with them, couldn’t I?” 
His fingers thrust harder now, and he presses his thumb down on my clit, almost clamping me in place. My head falls back on a sharp gasp. 
“But it’d be a tragedy to ignore this perfect cunt”—his fingers slam in hard and deeper—“seeing as how you’re making a mess all over your pretty thighs already.” 
“Yes. Yes. Please!” 
“Whatever you want, my little queen,” he rasps, voice thick with hunger. “Told you, didn’t I? What my queen wants, my queen gets.” 
His head drops and he does this thing. 
I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s my lack of experience, but between the heavenly suction of his mouth, the fullness of his fingers, and the heavy weight of his thumb… I fall. 
I fall in love. 
I fall apart. 
He plays me like an expert. Like I’m made for him.
No, I know what it is, it isn’t lack of experience, it’s him. 
My fated mate. 
“Rhys!” I cry his name and thread my fingers through his hair as my body seizes beneath his. And he doesn’t let up. He rides the wave until I’m putty in his hands. 
I’m borderline delirious when he pushes up to his knees and nudges my legs apart, spreading me. 
“Yes!” I breathe. Finally!
He looks *obscene*. Obscenely beautiful. Golden skin. Huge cock. Flushed a little bit on the cheeks. His broad chest, lightly dusted in hair, rises and falls as he stares down at me. 
And *oh*, his cock… thick, firm, gripped in his fist like he’s daring me not to look.
I *do* look. I can’t not.
His tongue sweeps slowly across his bottom lip as he stares down at me. His eyes darken. “I really hope you’re not on bloody birth control, Wren,” he drawls, voice all grit and seduction. He presses his swollen head through my slick folds. “Because I’ve got *every* intention of filling this perfect little cunt until it overflows.”
“Oh… Goddess,” I whisper, half-shocked at myself. “Yes. Please. Do it. I want it. I want it so bad, baby.” 
I can tell it was all he needs to hear as Rhys’s smirk turns downright dangerous.
He starts to push in—inch by divine inch—and my head tilts back, neck arching as he stretches me wider than I’ve ever felt. The fit feels so much tighter than Stephen. The fit is impossibly snug, *right*, like my body was waiting for this exact shape, this exact werewolf.
Because it was.
“Fucking hell, you feel good,” Rhys groans, gripping my thighs and hitching them higher around his waist as he sinks in deeper. “You’re taking me like a bloody dream, Wren,” he rasps as he seats himself inside me with intensity and attention. 
My cheeks flame. He’s so… *raw*. So rough. And yet—so attentive. Like every move is measured to worship me, even as he ruins me.
When he bottoms out, he leans over me, caging me in with his arms. His gaze finds mine, intense, a little wild. I wrap myself around him instinctively—arms, legs, soul. Then we kiss, and we roll, and our skin is hotter than it already is and given to sensation with every touch and every damp slide. 
I’ve never felt more whole than I do at this moment. 
Oh, *thank* the Goddess! 
“Too much, Rhys,” I breathe, my voice thin with emotion. “It’s too much…”
And I don’t mean the stretch.
Rhys catches my face with his hand. His hips hit me harder. “You can take it, little queen.” 
The words unravel me. “Goddess.” My eyes flutter shut. “Yes. Please—harder.”
Rhys chuckles low. “Harder? I’m trying to be gentle here.”
I meet his eyes, flushed and desperate. “You have been. And I love you so much for that. But now I want all of you, Rhys. Don’t hold back. Fuck me. *Please*.” 
A sultry smirk hits his lips as he draws away. “I told you whatever you want, didn’t I, Wren?” 
I nod, licking my lips as he considers. And this time, when he takes my thighs, he pushes them up, practically folding me in half. “Bloody hell, look at you. So fucking perfect,” he grits out before slamming in hard. Hitting me deeper than before.
So fucking deep! 
My gasp turns into a moan. Loud. Raw.
He fucks me in earnest now. He devours me with every thrust. His brow glistens, his jaw clenched. His grip on my legs is punishing, possessive. If I were human, I bet I’d bruise from it tomorrow.
He’s fixated on the place we’re joined, mesmerized by the sight of himself driving into me. 
With every thrust, I cry out. I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s mostly wordless, just noise to go with his pants and the sound of his balls slapping my ass as he unleashes. It’s savage, but we are werewolves.
“Pinch that pretty clit, baby,” he pants. “Let me see you come for me.”
My shaking hand jumps to obey him. “Oh, my!”
“Again.” His voice is darker now, rougher. “Do it until you come on my cock.” 
I do it again and again while he rails me. And before I know it, I’m screaming his name. 
I’ve never been a loud person. My entire body tightens, and I *scream*.
I never scream.
I’m soft-spoken. Gentle. Quiet. Always polite.
It’s odd for me to listen to myself right now.
But with Rhys, I forget all of that. With Rhys it feels so right, so safe to let go. 
And I do. 
I explode. 
Stars behind my eyes. Euphoria in my veins.
“Fucking hell, Wren,” he groans, his dark blue eyes glued to my face. “You blush even more when you’re coming for me, love. So fucking gorgeous and sweet. It’s my undoing.” His strokes turn from short and quick to long and punishing. 
My body shakes on every downstroke. And true to his word, watching me come is his undoing. 
I don’t miss the moment and sink my teeth into his neck, sharp and sure right away. I could never let this opportunity pass, just in case he gives up on our fated bond. When I draw back, I see my mark forming and our bond boosting in my mind. But I barely have time to think because Rhys is already there, biting my neck, too.
The pain is sharp at first—but the pleasure that follows… *divine*.
“Ohhh,” I moan. Oh, Goddess... *So this is how it feels to have your fated mate bite you?*
Rhys growls as he pulls back, lips a little bit slick with blood. “You belong to me now, Wren. Mine!” 
“I’m yours,” I breathe, my eyes shining. “And you’re mine.”
“Yes, my little queen. I belong to you.”
I almost cry. It’s so intense.
I feel him everywhere. Every pulse, every twitch as he empties himself inside me. His entire body tenses. 
It’s so hot. 
Almost as hot as when he pulls out to inspect his handiwork. “Bloody hell. That’s...” He bites his bottom lip. “Bloody perfect. Such a pretty little pussy,” he murmurs as he trails his fingers over my swollen pussy. 
I twitch at the touch—too sensitive, too full, and yet I arch into it, needy.
I can feel his seed leaking out. But not for long because he catches it, pushing it back into me with one gentle finger that makes me let out a whimper. My spine bows, and I push myself against him to help.
Goddess, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it feels so… *right*.
Repeating the process, each time Rhys collects more and presses back inside my entrance. It’s too easy to get lost in the fantasy of getting pregnant on the first try. 
I moan softly, chasing his touch. “Yes,” I whimper, breathless as my legs shake. I arch into him. 
“So eager for more. I know the feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. I’m already greedy. I want more, more, more.” 
He slips in a second finger, twisting in the mess we’ve made together.
“Ohhh!” I squirm under his gaze, under his touch. My nerves spark to life again.
“I think I’m going to watch you come like this too.” 
And he does. 
All morning.
All afternoon. 
All night. 
We only stop when my body gives out—my eyes too heavy to keep open. But then, I curl tighter into him, letting him wrap both arms around me like he’s building a fortress out of his body. 
As I listen to the steady thud of Rhys’s heart, my eyes drift shut, and for the first time in a long, long time, I fall asleep smiling instead of crying.