Home in the Wild
934 Words
Chapter 16: Home in the Wild
Morning light filtered through the lodge windows, soft and golden, turning the falling snow into drifting sparks.
Elara woke slowly, wrapped in warmth—Thorne’s arm heavy across her waist, his chest pressed to her back, legs tangled with hers under the thick quilts. His breath stirred the hair at her neck, steady and deep.
She shifted slightly, and he tightened his hold instinctively, a low rumble vibrating through him.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid up her stomach, palm splaying possessively just under her breast.
Elara smiled, arching into the touch. “Thought alphas didn’t cuddle.”
“This one does.” He pressed a lazy kiss to the curve of her shoulder, then another higher, lips lingering at the spot that made her breath catch. “Especially when his mate smells like him.”
The word—mate—hung in the air, unspoken until now. It sent heat pooling low in her belly.
She rolled to face him, tracing the scar that curved down his neck. “Is that what I am?”
Thorne’s gray eyes were serious, even half-lidded with morning softness. “If you want it. Bond’s already there. Has been since the first shift.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “But I won’t claim you until you say yes. Until you’re ready.”
Elara leaned in, kissing him slow and deep, morning breath and all. When she pulled back, her answer was a whisper against his mouth.
“I’m ready.”
The kiss turned hungry fast. Hands roamed, bodies pressed closer, the quilts falling away.
He rolled her beneath him, settling between her thighs like he belonged there.
They moved together unhurried this time—long, deep strokes, shared breaths, eyes locked. When she came, it was quiet and shattering, her nails digging into his back as he followed with her name on his lips.
After, they lay tangled and sweaty, listening to the fire settle into ash.
Eventually reality crept in.
“I should go to the diner,” Elara said, tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Betty’s probably wondering if I’m ever coming back.”
Thorne’s arm tightened. “Call in sick.”
She laughed softly. “I’ve been ‘sick’ for days. And I still technically work there.”
He propped himself on an elbow, looking down at her with that intense alpha stare. “Then quit.”
Elara raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” His fingers threaded through hers. “Move in here. With me. The room upstairs is too small, too cold, and too far from where you belong.”
Her heart did a slow flip. “You’re asking me to move in?”
“I’m telling you I don’t want you anywhere but here.” He softened, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But I’m asking, too. Stay.”
Elara pretended to think about it, biting her lip. “I do have a lease… month-to-month on a room above a diner.”
He growled playfully, nipping her collarbone. “I’ll pay it off.”
She laughed, pushing at his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll go give notice. But I’m still working today.
I owe Betty that much.”
Thorne sighed dramatically but let her up, watching with open appreciation as she padded naked to the bathroom. The shower ran hot; he joined her minutes later, hands slick with soap, mouth on her neck until the water ran cold and they were late.
By midday, Elara walked into Moon’s Bite in borrowed clothes—Thorne’s flannel over jeans that actually fit (Mira’s contribution). The diner smelled like coffee and bacon, familiar and comforting.
Betty took one look at her—glowing skin, faint marks on her neck barely hidden by the collar—and smirked.
“About time you showed up, honey. Thought the wolves finally ate you.”
Elara flushed. “Something like that.”
Betty waved off her apology, pouring coffee without asking. “Heard enough through the grapevine. Pack business sorted?”
“Mostly.” Elara leaned on the counter. “Betty… I’m giving notice. Moving up to the lodge.”
Betty’s eyes softened. “Good. That boy’s been half-alive for years. You fixed that.” She reached over, patting Elara’s hand. “Shift’s yours if you want it today, but I won’t hold you to it.”
Elara stayed anyway—out of loyalty, and because the routine grounded her. She poured coffee, took orders, laughed with regulars who now nodded to her with quiet respect.
No one mentioned the blood on the snow or the howls in the night.
Thorne showed up at closing, leaning against the doorframe in his usual spot, watching her wipe down the counter. When she locked up, he pulled her into his arms right there on the porch, kissing her slow and thorough until her knees went weak.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
Home.
The word settled warm in her chest.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling against his mouth. “Take me home.”
But as they walked to his truck, Elara’s phone—new burner, courtesy of Mira—buzzed in her pocket.
Unknown number.
A single text:
You think it’s over? Tell your alpha to check the old mill.
Sunset.
Come alone or the town burns.
– A friend of Marcus
Thorne read it over her shoulder, body going still.
The heat lingered on their skin.
But the storm was already rolling in.
- Writer
