His To Claim

Chapter 5: Marked by Fire

His POV — RYAN

By the time we made it back to the cabin, the scent of smoke was already in the air.

I knew it before I saw the distant glow through the trees. My wolf surged under my skin, claws pressing against muscle and bone, ready to tear. Someone had crossed into my territory.

Into our territory.

And they weren’t alone.

I turned toward Luna. Her skin was still pale, lips parted, eyes wide. I could see her wolf under the surface, instinct clawing its way up her spine, even if she was trying to stay calm.

“You feel that?” I asked.

She nodded, jaw clenched. “They’re hunting.”

She didn’t say who. She didn’t need to.

It wasn’t just any trespassers.

It was them.

The ones she ran from. The pack that hurt her.

My hands curled into fists. The fire in my blood had nothing to do with the flames rising beyond the trees. It was the fire of fury. Of protection. Of the primal need to destroy anything that threatened her.

“Get inside,” I said. “Lock the door. Don’t open it unless you smell me.”

“No.”

She said it quietly—but it hit like thunder.

I turned back to her slowly. Her shoulders were squared. Bare feet dug into the earth. Her hair messy, eyes still rimmed with tears—and gods, she’d never looked more like a Queen.

“I’m not hiding anymore,” she said. “Not from them. Not from anyone.”

My chest burned.

I walked toward her, slow and deliberate. “You don’t have to prove anything, Luna. You survived them. That’s more than enough.”

“But I don’t want to just survive anymore,” she whispered. “I want to fight. I want to burn them to the ground.”

Something in me snapped.

I pulled her to me, hand on the back of her neck, our mouths crashing together like sparks to dry kindling. She tasted like stormwater and fury, like need barely held back. Her body fit against mine like she’d been made for this moment—heat and hunger and soul-deep rage.

And then I was lifting her, carrying her back into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind us.

There were enemies at our borders.

But this—she—was mine to protect.

I laid her down on the table, not the bed. Raw. Rough. Immediate.

She tore open the flannel shirt, not caring that the buttons flew across the room. Her hands were on my belt, yanking it open with a growl that sent blood surging south.

I kissed her hard, biting her lip, sliding my hands up her thighs. Her legs opened for me without hesitation, wet heat pulsing between them like a heartbeat. She was already soaked. Already shaking.

“You’re not scared,” I breathed against her neck.

“I’m alive,” she panted. “And I need you.”

Gods, how could I say no to that?

I slid inside her in one thrust.

She gasped—head thrown back, fingers digging into my arms as I began to move. Fast. Deep. Desperate.

This wasn’t soft.

This wasn’t careful.

This was war.

Our bodies clashed like fire meeting oil. Her nails raked my back. My teeth marked her skin. We kissed like enemies and lovers and soulmates all at once. Her cries echoed off the cabin walls, her hips meeting mine with savage rhythm.

“You’re mine,” I growled into her mouth.

“Then take me,” she gasped.

And I did.

I took her again and again, until her voice was hoarse and her body slick with sweat. Until the table creaked and my name was a broken prayer on her lips. I watched her come undone, watched her fall apart beneath me—and every time she did, I followed her.

No holding back. No pretending this was just instinct.

We were claiming each other in every way that mattered.

By the time I carried her to the bed, we were both trembling.

She curled against me, breath ragged, skin flushed. I brushed her hair back from her face, kissed her temple.

And then—just as my heartbeat started to slow—

A howl shattered the silence.

Low. Savage. Close.

Followed by another.

Then another.

A pack.

Luna stiffened in my arms.

“They’re here,” she whispered.

“I know.”

I stood, pulled on my pants, and crossed to the window.

Flames danced in the distance, orange flickers between the trees.

“Ryan,” she said from the bed, voice shaking. “If they take me back—”

“They won’t.”

She stood, pulled the flannel back over her bare skin, walked to me slowly. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

I turned and cupped her face in both hands. “Then they don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Her breath caught. And then—gods bless her—she kissed me again. Fierce. Brave. Alive.

“Let’s end this,” she said.

And just like that—Luna wasn’t just mine anymore.

She was Alpha in her own right.

We stepped into the night together, side by side. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t just feel like an Alpha.

I felt like I belonged to someone.

To her.

To us.