His To Claim

Chapter 3: Claimed by the Alpha

His POV — RYAN

I stood outside the cabin for a long time after I walked her there.

Luna.

The name rolled through my mind over and over again like a spell. Like something ancient I hadn't heard in centuries but had always known.

She hadn't let me in.

I told her I wouldn't come inside unless she asked—and I meant it. But every instinct in me was fighting that promise. Pacing beneath my skin like my wolf was rattling the cage. Wanting her. Needing her. Demanding I go back in there and claim what was ours.

But I waited.

Waited in the shadows like a monster with too much hunger in his bones.

Until I felt her.

Not saw her. Not heard her.

Felt her.

The bond between us pulled tight—hot, sharp, vibrating through my chest like a silent scream. My knees nearly buckled from the force of it.

She was calling to me. Not with words. Not with sound.

With her need.

I was inside the cabin before I even realized I'd moved.

The door clicked shut behind me. She didn't turn to look at me.

She was standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, her back to me. One of my flannels hung off her shoulders, way too big, swallowing her whole. Her hair was still wet from the shower. Steam clung to her skin like mist. Her breathing was shallow. Uneven.

I took a step forward.

"Luna."

She turned slowly. And gods...

Her eyes were wide and shining in the low firelight. Stormy silver, glowing with something raw and unguarded. Her lips were parted, flushed. Her hands were shaking as she let the flannel fall open.

No bra. Just smooth, perfect skin and soft curves. Bare and vulnerable and beautiful in a way that shattered me.

"I feel like I'm going to break," she whispered.

I closed the distance between us, slow and quiet like I was approaching something sacred.

"You're not," I said, voice thick with restraint. "You're going to survive this. You're going to survive me."

She looked up at me, and something broke in her gaze.

"Then take me," she breathed. "Before I change my mind."

And I did.

Gods, I did.

I didn't rip the shirt off her. I didn't throw her onto the bed like some unhinged Alpha claiming his prize. I touched her—slowly, reverently, like she was made of glass and I'd waited a thousand lifetimes just to hold her.

Her skin was warm and soft under my hands, her breath hitching every time I brushed her ribs, her collarbone, the curve of her waist. She clutched at my shoulders, pulling me closer like she was afraid I'd vanish.

"I'm not going anywhere," I murmured, pressing my lips to her throat. "I've got you."

She moaned—low and desperate—her hands sliding into my hair.

I carried her to the bed. Laid her down gently. Crawled over her without ever breaking contact.

And then I kissed her.

Not rushed. Not rough.

Slow. Deep. Endless.

She melted under me like wax under flame, arching up to meet me, her legs wrapping around my hips. Every inch of her was soft and eager and trembling.

But I didn't rush. I needed her to know this wasn't just about hunger. This was about belonging.

"You're mine," I whispered, mouth brushing her jaw, her throat, the swell of her breasts. "Not because the bond says so. Not because I'm Alpha. But because I choose you."

She whimpered, lifting her hips, trying to pull me closer. "Then show me. Please, Ryan. Show me."

My name on her lips almost undid me.

I slid inside her slowly, holding her gaze the whole time. Her lips parted on a gasp, her nails digging into my back.

I stopped once I was fully buried in her.

Let the moment breathe. Let it mean something.

She was shaking under me—overwhelmed, lost, alive. Her eyes shimmered with tears she hadn't let fall. And f**k, I was so in love with every broken, brave piece of her, it hurt.

"I've got you," I said again. "I won't break you. I'll put you back together."

And then I moved.

Slow. Deep. Controlled.

Each thrust was a promise. A vow. A carving of our souls into each other. Her body opened for me like it had been made for mine—hot, wet, perfect. The room disappeared. The world faded.

There was only us.

Only this.

She kissed me like she was drowning. Held me like I was a lifeline. Moaned my name like it was a prayer.

I made love to her like it was the last thing I'd ever do.

And when her body finally broke under mine, when her walls clenched around me and she cried out, I let go.

Buried myself deep and let the claiming take over.

My mark burned against her throat as I bit down—not hard, not to draw blood, just enough to seal the bond between us. My scent claimed her. Her body accepted mine. Our wolves howled together—silent and wild in the dark.

It was more than s*x. More than instinct.

It was home.

I collapsed beside her, gathering her into my arms as she trembled. Her face was pressed to my chest, fingers curled against my skin, breath uneven.

"I didn't want this," she whispered after a long while. "I didn't ask for it."

"I know."

"But I don't regret it."

I closed my eyes, holding her tighter.

Neither did I.