Born To Be More

Working it out

Raine

Max carries me straight into the hot tub and sets me on the edge like I belong there—because to him, I do. His hands settle on my knees, spreading them slowly, deliberately, until I’m fully exposed to him and the cool air dances across my skin, making me shiver.

“Mmm,” he hums, eyes dark with heat. “So damn perfect. And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes me ache. My heart pounds as he leans forward, brushing a teasing kiss against my inner thigh, and then—God—his tongue finds me.

I let out a soft gasp, my head tipping back. He moves with expert precision, circling, flicking, tasting like he’s starving for me. One hand slips up to hold my hip steady while the other disappears between my thighs, and when he slides a finger into me, I cry out, the pressure building fast.

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs against my skin. “She does too, doesn’t she?” His voice is low, rough, and I know he means my wolf. She’s stirring, restless, drawn to his dominance, to the power in his touch.

I nod, unable to speak as he takes me higher, his fingers and mouth working me into a frenzy. Every nerve is alight. The pleasure builds and builds until I break, unraveling around him, my moans echoing into the night air.

But he doesn’t stop. Not yet.

His mouth is relentless, his grip firm, guiding me straight into a second release that crashes over me like a wave. I cling to the edge, panting, shaking, completely undone.

When he finally lifts his head, there’s fire in his eyes—and a wicked smile curving his lips.

He lifts me effortlessly, pulling me into the warm water before turning me to face the edge. In one swift motion, he’s behind me, his body pressing against mine, his hands anchoring my hips as he thrusts deep.

“Max—oh my God!” I cry out, my voice echoing into the night air, already teetering on the edge of release again.

“You’re mine, Angel,” he growls behind me, each word punctuated by the steady, powerful rhythm of his body claiming mine. The water ripples around us, the cool air brushing over my heated skin and tightening my n*****s in contrast.

His pace deepens, intensifies, and I can barely breathe through the pressure building inside me.

“Tell me who you belong to,” Max demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Say it.”

I don’t answer fast enough. He delivers a sharp spank to my backside that makes me gasp and clench around him.

“You!” I cry out. “I’m yours, Max!”

The moment I speak the words, my climax rips through me again—fierce, uncontrollable, mind-shattering. My whole body quakes with it, and Max follows, pulling me up into his arms with a low, guttural groan of pleasure.

He kisses the curve of my neck where his mark would go, his breath warm and reverent.

“You’re everything, Angel,” he whispers. “But I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

We said goodbye to Max’s family and hit the road. I leaned back in my seat, feeling torn between relief and heaviness. As much as I looked forward to the quiet of my apartment, I wasn’t looking forward to any more surprises.

This weekend had been… a lot.

I told Max I loved him.

Found out I’m a damn wolf from New Zealand.

And, oh yeah—my parents? Not dead.

I let out a sigh I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Everything okay over there, Angel?” Max asked, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” I said, staring out the window. “Just… using this time to think things through.”

“You did so well this weekend,” he said, reaching over to brush his fingers against mine. “My family loved you. Actually, I think they like you more than they like me right now.”

I rolled my eyes, managing a smile. “They were really kind, Max. And it helped, honestly. Being around other wolves… it made me feel less like I’m losing my mind. Still, I guess I was scared I’d lose the part of me I do know. The normal part. If that makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense, Angel.” His voice was calm and reassuring.

And just like that, the quiet between us wasn’t heavy—it was safe.

We arrived home and stepped into my apartment building.

“Welcome back, Miss Marshall,” Smithy greeted from the reception desk with his usual warm smile.

“Hello, Smithy,” I replied, returning the smile. “Any mail?”

“Yes, Miss Marshall. You’ve been quite popular,” he said, handing me a thick stack.

“Thanks,” I chuckled, then joined Max as we walked to the lifts.

Sam was waiting when we reached the apartment. “All clear, Raine,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you, Sam,” I replied, stepping inside.

I dropped my bag and the mountain of mail on the counter and headed for my bedroom, kicking off my shoes on the way. God, it felt good to be in my own space again.

“Angel, want a coffee?” Max called from the kitchen.

“Well, duh. Obviously,” I teased, walking back out.

He handed me a mug and kissed my cheek. That simple gesture settled something in my chest.

I started flipping through the mail. How do I get this much junk in three days?

Max took a seat near me with his laptop. “I’ve got a few emails to get through, Angel—then can we talk?” he asked, his tone warm but serious.

I looked up, instantly on alert. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. “I just want to talk about us. You and me—where this is heading.”

I start opening the mail, flipping through what feels like dozens of invites. Function after function. Openings, charity events, gala dinners, community parties—each more over-the-top than the last. Shiny, sparkly, embossed, wax-sealed, and printed in every color of a unicorn-farted rainbow.

There is no way in hell I’m attending all these pompous circus acts.

One envelope catches my eye—sleek black and silver. Fancy, but not glitter vomit. I open it to find a single business card for a law firm. On the back, a handwritten note: Call urgently.

I check the envelope again. Nothing else inside. I sift through the rest of the mail, hoping for some context, but it's just more hollow glamour.

Curiosity prickles. I dial the number, recognizing a New Zealand area code.

“Briar Law,” a young voice answers.

“Hello, this is Miss Marshall.”

There’s a pause—then a sharp inhale. “Miss Marshall, we’ve been expecting your call. Please hold while I transfer you.”

That’s not ominous at all.

A new voice comes on the line—smooth, confident, a little too cheerful for my current emotional bandwidth. “Miss Marshall, it’s lovely to hear from you. I’m Lance Briar, senior partner at Briar Law. Thank you for getting in touch.”

“Well, your business card didn’t leave much room for choice,” I say dryly. “Care to explain why you’re sending cryptic messages halfway around the world?”

He chuckles, but there’s a note of seriousness beneath it. “Yes, it’s a bit unorthodox, I admit. But this is an unusual situation. Miss Marshall, in a few weeks, you’ll turn twenty-four—and when you do, you’ll become the legal recipient of a sealed estate file. There are papers you’ll need to read over and sign before then.”

“I’ll need to come out to New York and see you in person,” Mr. Briar says.

“You can’t just scan the documents?” I ask, already annoyed at the formality.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Marshall. We’ve been managing this account for twenty-four years—especially closely for the last thirteen. Due to the nature of the contents, this must be handled face-to-face.”

Well, that’s not ominous or anything.

“Okay, then let me know when you’re coming,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “But I want a proper briefing. I need to know you’re legit.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “I’ll send through a formal summary along with my travel details. My assistant will confirm your contact information. Thank you again, Miss Marshall—we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Briar.”

The assistant pops back on to confirm my email, and then the line disconnects. I stare at the phone for a second.

That was weird. Not unsettling exactly—but definitely not casual.

Max joins me on the couch, and I immediately snuggle into him, needing the comfort. “I have so many damn invites, it’s ridiculous,” I mutter, motioning toward the stack of overdecorated envelopes.

He chuckles, kissing my shoulder. “Well, maybe we can go to a couple together. It might not be so bad if I’m there.”

“Maybe,” I sigh. “I definitely want to make time for the community outreach events. That kind of stuff actually matters. But the rest of these? Ugh—let’s hope my assistant can figure it out.”

"Raine, listen—we need to talk," he says.

I immediately tense. Of course, he notices, and without warning, yanks me straight into his lap. My limbs flail like a drunk baby giraffe. Graceful? Not in this life.

"Angel, I just wanted to talk about us," he says gently.

I squint at him. "Are you backing out already, Max?"

"Jesus, no. Why the f**k would I do that?" he snaps, genuinely offended.

"Then spit it out. You're making me nervous."

He lets out a heavy breath. "God, Angel. I meant I don’t want to leave you. I mean at night. I want to move in here—or you move in with me. For a while. Or forever. I’m good with either." He gives me a cocky grin.

"Oh," I breathe, caught off guard.

"Listen, I love you. I want to stay. I want to make sure you're safe. I know I’m going to come off as the overprotective boyfriend, and if that makes me an asshole, fine. But I won’t compromise on your safety." His voice hardens. "And with this new contract? You’re front and center now. If your old pack hid you for a reason, well… that reason’s kind of irrelevant now, isn’t it? You’re a global name."

I lean in and kiss him, knowing full well I’m about to push his buttons.

"OK," I whisper.

He growls. "OK?"

I giggle. "OK."

He flips me across his lap and gives my ass a firm but playful smack. "Raine, if you keep giving me one-word answers, I’m going to make a habit of this."

I wriggle off his lap and dart toward the kitchen, grinning over my shoulder. "OK!"

"That’s it," he calls after me. "We need dinner, we skipped lunch, and I want to chill out with my smartass girlfriend tonight."

We spent the rest of the evening just hanging out—laughing, teasing, eating dinner on the couch like a normal couple. I peppered Max with all the questions I’d been too overwhelmed to ask earlier.

I clearly had no idea what it actually meant to be a wolf—especially not one raised outside a pack—so my curiosity was on overdrive. At one point, I asked if our wolves would eventually… have s*x too. Like, was that a thing? Or would that count as sharing, or some kind of weird internal threesome?

Max lost it.

I mean, full-on howling, rolling-on-the-couch laughter that had tears leaking from his eyes while I sat there glaring, arms crossed, thoroughly unimpressed.

Once he finally pulled himself together, he explained—still grinning—that no, our wolves didn’t hook up separately. They are us. Just… more. But I was still grumpy at him for laughing that hard.

It’s early morning when I jolt awake, drenched in sweat and burning up like I fell asleep on a beach under the ozone hole.

I try to move but can't—Max has me locked in a damn werewolf vice grip, one arm banded tightly around my waist, the other... very much cupping my boob like it’s his favorite pillow.

“Max,” I whisper.

No response.

“Max,” I repeat, louder this time.

Still nothing, except for the slightest twitch of his mouth like he’s dreaming something amusing.

“Max,” I say with more urgency. “I need to pee—let me go!”

That gets a reaction. He groans and rolls off just in time for me to dart into the bathroom and unleash a bladder that was seconds from disaster.

“Christ,” I mutter, bracing my hands on the counter. My vision swims.

I’m still burning up. Sweat beads down my spine. My skin prickles like it’s too tight, too hot. I tug at my shirt, peeling it over my head with shaky hands. Something’s not right.

I flush and throw myself straight into the shower, cranking the water to freezing. It hits me like a wall of ice and I let out a squeal—but God, it feels so good. My skin sizzles from the contrast.

“Angel? Are you okay?” Max shouts, skidding into the bathroom like a man on a mission.

“I’m fine!” I call back. “Just woke up feeling a little… overheated.”

That’s putting it mildly.

Before I can say more, Max strips and jumps in behind me.

“Holy f**k, Raine!” he yells, immediately jumping right back out, slipping on the tiles like a cartoon character.

I double over, laughing, arms braced against the wall. “What the hell, woman?! It’s freezing! Are you trying to kill me?”

I glance over my shoulder at him, grinning. “I told you I was hot.”

He’s standing there dripping and wide-eyed, like I’ve just violated every law of physics. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Water’s warming up now. Want to come in?” I ask, turning the dial slowly so I don’t boil myself.

Max narrows his eyes, steps forward cautiously, and tests the water like he’s approaching a wild animal. “You’re a menace,” he mutters as he finally steps in behind me.

“You love it,” I say, smirking.

“Tyson can feel Shyla coming forward,” Max says as he gently washes my back.

“Shyla?” I repeat. The name is familiar—I've heard it in my head before.

“Shyla is your wolf,” he explains. “Tyson says she’s his mate, and he can talk to her—briefly—when she’s closer to the surface.”

I pause, absorbing that. “How often can he talk to her?”

“Not often yet, Angel. But it’s getting stronger—the connection. The more time we spend together, the closer we get to your birthday... the more she awakens.”

“Oh,” I breathe, picturing what she might look like. Would she be fierce? Soft? A mirror of me—or someone completely different?

Max finishes rinsing us both and turns off the water, the steam curling around us like a lazy cloud. He watches me carefully.

“Still feeling hot, Angel?” he asks.

“No, I’m good now. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the other night at your place,” I reply honestly.

“It’ll get easier once you change,” he says softly, brushing wet hair from my face.

“Mmmmmm… this is so good. So fucken good. Oh God, Max, I really needed this coffee,” I groan, sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapped around my cup like it’s a lifeline.

Max leans in, kissing my forehead. “You keep moaning like that and everyone downstairs can wait—until I’ve f****d you senseless,” he says, smiling like the devil.

The intercom buzzes.

I glare at him and walk over to answer it, still scowling.

“Morning, Miss Marshall,” Smithy’s voice chirps. “I’ve got quite the group here. Rion, Tiffany, Sam, Zion, and Craig are all waiting.”

I glance at Max, who gives me a nod.

“Send them up, Smithy. And thank you,” Max calls out over my shoulder.

He wraps an arm around me and whispers, “I asked Smith to meet everyone on their first visit, figured it’d help with security protocols. Sam and Rion are waiting with them.”

Moments later, the door swings open and in walk a blushing Rion and Sam, followed by two of Max’s security guys—and my assistant, who looks like she just won the bloody lottery.

“Morning, anyone like a coffee?” I call out.

Rion and Sam make a beeline straight for the espresso machine, and I burst out laughing.

“The more you two hang around me, the worse your addiction’s gonna get,” I tease, watching them fumble with the settings like pros.

“Morning, Boss,” Tiffany says, sauntering over with a bright grin.

“Morning,” I say, smiling back. “First day today—are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” she replies, posture snapping straight like a soldier on parade. “Where do you want me to start?”

I wave a hand at the mess of envelopes and sparkly cards spread across the table. “Let’s start with these. Can you sort all the invites into categories—community, charities, parties—and organize them by month? There’s no way I’m attending all of them.”

“Got it,” she says, already pulling out her tablet and setting up folders.

“Also, I believe Caine sent through the schedule for this week. Could you contact all the hosts for the meet-and-greets to confirm entry access, timing, and security? Coordinate with Sam for the security parts, please.”

“On it,” she says with a confident nod, already typing out notes.

Max walks past behind me and mutters under his breath, “Efficient.”

I grin. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure she’s already more organized than me.”

“Here’s your work phone and photo ID,” I say, handing them over to Tiffany. She nods, immediately taking notes.

“Great, got it! So, you’ve got a meeting with a potential new client at 9 a.m., then a media release with Chic at 11. I’ll contact both parties now and confirm details,” she says before walking off like she’s been doing this job for years.

Rion and Sam step up beside me, coffees in hand.

“Raine,” Rion says lowly, “I’d be surprised if that girl manages to stay professional the whole time.”

“Yeah,” Sam adds, “She’s supposed to make things easier for you, not harder for us. I swear, I thought she was going to grab my d**k in the elevator.”

I burst out laughing, nearly choking on my coffee.

Max walks in just then, eyebrows raised. “What’s happening in here?”

“Oh, nothing,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

Max narrows his eyes and smirks. “You linked him, didn’t you?” I ask, looking directly at Rion.

“Yup.” He grins, unashamed.

"Raine your morning, is all sorted I can" Tiffany stops talking and looks at the guys surrounding me. "Well, is this a meeting or a party" she says in a smooth voice. Max frowned at her. I quickly answer before he did. "Tiffany, please update Sam and the team on my schedule for today and what you have organized, we will leave in 5 minutes", I tell her, walking away with Max. "Raine I am not sure about her" he says. "There are always issues to start I'm sure, so let’s see what happens" I tell him, and he nods. "You have way more patience than me" I smile at him, "I will talk to her if it becomes a problem" I say; everyone deserves a chance and I will work it out!