And truthfully, as selfish as it sounded, the one she most wanted at the moment was currently in the kitchen, trying to round her up a snack when what she really longed for was the comfort of his arms.
As if he’d received a direct transmission of her thoughts, Logan suddenly appeared in the doorway. Their gazes crashed and the world around them faded to the background. She watched him stride forward, his sole focus on her. He swept her up and pivoted toward the doorway. Fortunately no one detained him as he strode for the stairway, otherwise the unlucky offender would have likely received a chunk taken out of their hide.
They reached her bedroom, and he kicked the door shut before locking it. A second later, she was sinking into the fresh bedding, her fingers sifting through Logan’s hair as his tongue glided along hers. The kiss was drenched in heat and passion. Love and tenderness.
He cradled her close, his hands touching every inch he could reach. Soon clothing became a hindrance, and they removed that last barrier to each other’s bodies, their fingers, lips and tongues relearning the precious plains and valleys of the other. Logan’s mouth slid between her legs and suckled softly on her clit, his loving worship driving her to a shattering climax. He left her just long enough to fetch a condom from his wallet.
Remembering his oath not to get her pregnant until she wore his ring, she nibbled along his jaw while he smoothed the latex over his rigid shaft. “We need to get married. Soon. So we can start filling that nursery.”
His motions stilled and he looked at her, the joy on his face almost more blinding than the glow residing in her heart. His lips parted, but rather than responding to her announcement, he kissed her again. Their tongues tangling, he eased over her, his cock rubbing along her labia. She undulated her hips and he took the hint, nudging into her slit. He bore down, filling her in one luscious stroke. She countered his thrusts, the rhythm of their love as ancient as time itself. Their fingers twined, an unbreakable bond.
Almost.
There was one last step to seal their union. One that she longed for with all her soul. But for the first time in many, many years, her longing wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Or to run from.
She turned her head, exposing the vulnerable arch of her neck. A shudder racked Logan, and she could sense his wolf straining at its leash. She whispered the words that would free him. Free her. “You are my mate. Always.”
Groaning, he buried his face against her. He placed a tender kiss on her pulse, and a moment later his canines pricked her flesh. She instinctively tensed, not knowing what to expect. Would there be pain?
His teeth punctured deeper. But there was no agony, only the most exhilarating, intense pleasure she’d ever known. It swept over her, radiating inward and outward until she was submerged in pure sensation. She swam in the currents of his energy, their essences merging into shimmering threads of lavender and gold. There was no beginning and no end to their unity. No weakness in their link. She opened her eyes to the shining light of her and Logan’s love.
One word sang in her soul.
Home.
Epilogue
Twenty-nine was too damn young to be suffering a midlife crisis.
And a mental breakdown.
Shaking her head, Willa Jameson parked her Taurus outside Tybee’s Sugar Shack. The only thing that’d talk her down from the ledge she was straddling right now was an Oreo Cookie shake. She stepped inside the building, the smell of vanilla and chocolate like a tranquilizer dart to the jugular. Her sigh of contentment floated free. Now if only this illusion of tranquility and normalcy would last.
Jenson was manning the counter today. He gave her a friendly wave. “Hey, Willa. The usual?”
She wasn’t the least bit surprised by the question. God knows, she came here often enough everyone knew her and the fact that Oreo Cookie shakes were her personal crack. “Yep. Extra heavy on the cookie today, please.”
Jenson’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, her liquid therapy in hand, she left the Shack and returned to her car. She took a sip of her shake and groaned in appreciation before turning the key in the ignition. The radio popped on, and she listened to the DJ rambling about the top story that’d been featured on every news channel for the past two days—the mysterious and completely spontaneous recovery of the coma victims who’d been under close monitoring at St. Joseph’s. Everyone was calling it a miracle.
If they only knew the real story. Not that the truth was any less miraculous. And a whole lot weirder.
Plunking her shake in the cup holder, Willa lowered the volume on the radio and pulled onto the street. But rather than turn inland and head to her duplex apartment as she’d intended, she found herself driving in the direction of the north beach as if she didn’t possess control over her hands—which were gripping the steering wheel as if the thing might suddenly rip off and go flying out the window.
Oh hell. Now what?
Her foot accelerated on the gas, speeding her past the clusters of rental cottages hugging the shoreline of the Atlantic. The Tybee Island Light Station popped into view and she decelerated. Just as she was about to exhale in relief that her psychosis had apparently decided to give her a break, she careened into the lighthouse’s parking lot and braked to a stop. No one was around since it was after normal operating hours. Good thing, because with that Dukes of Hazard stunt, she probably would have wiped out an entire line of cars.
She stumbled from the vehicle and staggered across the steaming asphalt. Instead of heading toward the light station, she staggered toward the dunes in the distance. As she stared at the whitecaps cresting on the horizon, she started to get a sinking feeling where she was headed.
Pleasenopleasenopleaseno.
The puppeteer controlling her body refused to listen to her desperate pleas. She tumbled through the sand, the waves growing deafening in her ears.
Other than that dip in Seven’s fiery lake, she hadn’t physically stepped foot in any body of water bigger than a bathtub in almost twenty-two years. As she neared the rolling tide, the horrible memory of her parents sinking beneath the waves crashed into her.
Terror and despair clawed within her all over again. Oh God, no.
Warning bells screamed in her head, but her legs continued moving, increasing their pace. Before she knew it, water crashed over her, dragging her under. She tried to kick against the currents, but the tow was too strong.
Something curled around her ankles and gave a vicious tug. Within the murky depths, red demonic eyes appeared. “I know what you are.” The sibilant voice snaked into the cortex of her brain.
She screamed, right before the world went dark.