Page 85 of Ruthless Moon

“The bathroom is through that door,” Lila directs, motioning to a rustic wooden door nestled in the corner of the room. “There’s a bit of food in the cupboard by the sink. Not a lot.” She pauses, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips. “I’ll bring a few things later in case you get hungry.”

Her words hang in the air, like we’re all tasting them, trying them out. Bathing. Eating. Sleeping. They’re simple things, ordinary things, yet they feel so foreign, so out of place in this moment.

Life continues to churn even when we’re not ready to move, even when every inch of us screams for a time-out, an opportunity to catch our breath, to absorb the blow.

Lila steps forward, her warm hands coming to rest on my arm. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. Her breath is warm against my skin.

“Take care of her, Liam,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “She needs you.” Her gaze shifts away from me to rest on Gen.

My Gen, who has yet to lift her eyes from the wooden floorboards since we stepped foot in this cozy sanctuary.

“You’re together. Embrace that and let it heal you.” She pats my arm before she retreats, leaving us alone at last.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, hoping to pull Gen from her state of shock.

She shakes her head. Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, have seen too much for one day, and likely more than anyone should see in a lifetime. “No, but we should shower. I have—there’s...” She points to my shirt and I look down at the rusty brown stains on the fabric.

Blood.

My blood.

It’s on Gen’s clothes too.

“I agree.” Taking her hand, I lead her into the bathroom, not giving her a chance to protest or tell me to go first. I flick on the light, illuminating the room with a harsh white glare.

I peel off my clothes first and watch as Gen follows suit, her movements hesitant and unsure. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around her. Our bare skin meets and the connection between us sparks to life like a jump-started battery.

I trace the contours of her face, exploring each feature as if it were sacred. An acute sense of gratitude washes over me as I take in her presence. The fact that she exists here. With me. In this place. The ability to touch her, to breathe in her scent, to claim her as my mate feels more like a divine blessing than a simple reality.

She’s mine.

She’s ours.

Mate.

My wolf rumbles in my chest, desperate for the bond that will seal us together for life.

“Gen.” Her name is a plea on my lips. A question. A promise. A prayer.

Her hands glide upward, delicately tracing the landscape of my chest before coming to rest behind my neck. Then she rises on her tiptoes. Our eyes meet in a silent exchange before her lips find mine.

Her taste floods my senses, sweet as honey and intoxicating as the strongest whiskey. Our tongues tangle, a passionate dance that follows no rhythm but the one set by our pounding hearts. The world fades, our reality contracts until it’s just her and me, and this overwhelming need to consume and be consumed.

Everything we’ve fought, every emotion we’ve held back comes crashing down all at once.

My hands glide down to her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her curves press against my hardness, eliciting a low growl from my throat. Her hands clutch tighter at my hair, hanging on tighter as if she’s worried I’ll let her go.

I won’t.

Ever.

“Liam,” she says against mouth. My name on her lips caresses my soul, filling a void I hadn’t realized was there.

Our desires and emotions condense into this one kiss, an act so simple yet so profoundly intimate. Her soft moans drive me to the brink of madness. I deepen the kiss, my silent vow of love and possession.

I cradle her face gently between my hands, my gaze locking onto hers. Her eyes flicker, that rich honey-gold of her wolf pushing to the surface, reflecting the raw intensity of the moment. “Right now, right here, the loss and the fear all take a back seat. Because in this moment, we are not victims of circumstance. We are not just survivors. We are mates and I don’t want to exist another minute without sealing our bond.”

Tears roll down her cheeks, but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t refuse. Instead, she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. So much, but do we need an alpha to say the spell? I don’t know the words, but I want them too.”