Heston
Fuck.
I’d never—never—felt anything this f*****g perfect.
Cordella, writhing beneath me, glowing with magic, her thighs trembling around my hips, her body clenching around my knot like she was born for it.
And maybe she was.
My wolf thought so. He was screaming at me to mark her. To bite her. To finish what the bond had already started. To seal her fate and never let her go. But she didn’t know what that meant.
Not fully. Not yet.
Marking wasn’t just s*x. It wasn’t just instinct.
It was eternity. It was devastation if rejected. And I couldn’t do that to her.
Not until she understood.
So instead—I f****d her.
Hard. Deep.
Each thrust sent her moaning, arching, her magic sparking with every inch I sank deeper.
And once she soaked my knot—once her body accepted it, stretche
