I squeeze my legs tight around his waist as he plunges those two fingers inside me, hitting all the right spots with frustrating precision. My grip on his hair tightens even further and I arch my back into him.
Desperate for more, I guide his throbbing length to my wet entrance, using my thumb to spread my arousal over his tip causing him to shudder beneath my touch. The head of his cockteases at my entrance before he pushes in slowly, filling me inch by decadent inch with his manhood.
His grunts and moans intermingle with mine as I take him deeper and deeper within me until we can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. He pulls out and with a powerful thrust, he enters me smoothly, our bodies fitting together perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces finally coming together. I let out a strangled cry of pleasure as he fills me. His cock slides in and out of me with a measured pace designed to stoke our mutual pleasure, setting us on course for an explosive climax.
Our worlds narrow down to just this - heat, need, passion entwining into an exquisite symphony of senses as we climax together in a crescendo of pleasure.
“Mine,” Zayn growls possessively in my ear as he thrusts harder and deeper into me, building the rhythm until it’s all-consuming. The sensation of him buried inside me is more than I ever dreamed it could be - overwhelming, deliciously wild.
“Yes, yours,” I breathlessly reply before giving myself over completely to the sensations overtaking me. As we move together, I feel the pressure building low in my belly. The heat and tension coil tighter and tighter until with a roar from Zayn and a cry from me, we come undone together, our bodies shuddering in unison as waves of pleasure wash over us.
As we come down from our high, Zayn’s lips find mine again, this time in a gentle kiss, “Mine,” he murmurs against them, his voice hoarse from desire and exertion. “Forever, Cleo.”
“Forever,” I echo back, my voice a warm whisper against his chest. His heart beat a soothing rhythm beneath my ear, grounding me in the reality that is us. My fingers lazily draw patterns on his toned abdomen, admiring the play of muscles under the taut skin.
His hold tightens around me, staking his claim even as Zarek echoes the sentiment in the recesses of our minds. His lipsgently trace the shell of my ear before he whispers, “I love you,” words that send thrills of joy down my spine.
“I love you, too,” I murmur back, meaning every word.
For now, though, wrapped in Zayn’s strong arms with his heart beating beneath my ear, I forget about impending pack wars and the dramas of life. For now, I bask in the undeniable truth that we belong together despite whatever challenges we may face.
We step out of the shower toward the steam-covered mirror and awaiting towels, I catch sight of our reflections together. His dark eyes meet mine in the mirror’s reflection, heavy with emotions that words would do no justice to. This man, this Alpha, is mine. And I am his.
Chapter 30
• Cleo •
The murmur of voices stir me from my sleep, and I blink away the remnants of sleep, reaching for consciousness with a languorous stretch. My eyes crack open to the dimly lit room, where the dawn’s early light hasn’t quite yet removed the night’s shadowy clutches. The bed beside me is empty, and the sheets are cool. A subtle pang of panic flutters in my chest when I don’t feel Zayn beside me, my mind believing it was all a dream I’d conjured up.
Rolling onto my side, I realize I am not in my room but his; I squint through the half-open balcony doors where Alpha Zayn stands, his broad frame outlined against the awakening sky. His tattooed arms ripple slightly as he heatedly speaks into the phone that is on loudspeaker, his eyes scanning the pack grounds. A split second later, I notice Vance, his dark hair tousled from sleep or stress, I’m unsure. He leans against the balcony railing, his hand under his chin as he listens to Zayn speak angrily into the phone. My ears strain to listen, and I manage to catch my father’s voice, making me pinch my brows in confusion.
“Alpha Greyson’s. Yes, it has to be there,” Zayn’s voice carries faintly, laced with an authority that never fails to send a shiver down my spine. “I’ve already spoken with him; he has agreed to be observant and not pass judgment, Joseph. Meet methere or don’t. You’re lucky I am even giving you an out right now; if you weren’t her father, you’d be dead by now.”
What is going on? My heart tightens, anxiety creeping along my skin like tendrils of morning mist. What is Zayn organizing?
“Fine, I swear, Zayn, any funny business and we’ll come to blows,” comes the gruff reply through the phone, unmistakably my father’s voice. My father – a man whose decisions weigh heavily on my reality. Their alliance, however fragile, has me caught in the middle.
Zayn ends the call, and for a moment, silence follows. It is a heavy, expectant silence. The kind that precedes a storm. Zayn and Vance speak, their words hushed. I strain to listen, to piece together the fragments of their conversation.
“Are you certain?” Zayn’s question slices through the quiet, his gaze fixed on Vance.
“Absolutely, I can do it; I just need to get in there,” Vance responds. They stand close. Heads bowed, discussing matters meant only for their ears. My intuition screams that whatever they are planning bodes a significant change that will ripple through our lives and will affect me.
“And if Greyson is correct?” Vance asks. Zayn is silent for a moment. “This will upset her,” Vance adds.
“And I will deal with it then,” Zayn says, making me certain that whatever they are speaking of, I am going to be caught in the middle.
My mind pieces together bits of overheard phrases, hints of secrecy, and unspoken tensions. It’s clear I’m not privy to their full intentions. And while part of me wants to leap out of bed, to confront them and demand inclusion, another part recoils, fearing the truth behind Vance’s words.
Whatever they’re hiding holds the power to alter the delicate balance of our world. The thought leaves me feelingexposed and vulnerable despite the strength I feel through the bond coming off Zayn. He seems so certain, and confident in what he is doing that I need to trust whatever it is and that he won’t put our bond at risk.
Yet here I am, surrounded by uncertainty, a watcher to my own life’s unfolding drama.
I blink away the remnants of sleep, pushing myself up on my elbows. The crisp morning air carries their words through the slightly ajar balcony door. Zayn’s voice is low, and a growl is threading under his words, which cuts off the moment he notices movement inside the room.
Their eyes meet mine, and the conversation dies. A charged silence fills the space between us as I search their faces for answers.
“What are you talking about?” My voice is steady despite the thudding of my heart against my ribs. They exchange a glance that tells me everything—I’m not supposed to know.
