Moonlight Guardians

Claimed

Chapter 17: Claimed

The drive back to the lodge was quiet, the text message burning unspoken between them.

Thorne’s hand rested on Elara’s thigh the whole way—possessive, grounding—his thumb tracing slow circles that kept the heat simmering under her skin.

When they stepped inside, the lodge was empty. The pack had given them space, whether by instinct or Thorne’s silent command. The fire still glowed from earlier, embers casting warm shadows across the fur rug.

Thorne latched the door again, then turned to her.

“We’ll deal with the message tomorrow,” he said, voice low. “Tonight is ours.”

Elara’s answer was to pull his mouth down to hers.

The kiss was different this time—no hesitation, no careful restraint. It was claiming. She backed him toward the rug, hands fisting in his shirt, tugging it over his head. He let her, eyes dark and hungry as she pushed him down onto the thick fur.

She straddled him, knees sinking into the softness, and took her time. Her palms slid over his chest, nails scraping lightly down his abs, watching goosebumps rise in their wake.

When she leaned down to taste the scar on his neck, he groaned, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise—but the good kind.

“Elara,” he warned, voice rough.

She smiled against his skin, nipping just below his ear. “You said until I’m ready.”

His growl vibrated through her. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.”

She stripped slowly—shirt first, then jeans—letting his eyes devour every inch.

When she was bare above him, she reached for his belt, freeing him with deliberate slowness. He was hard and hot in her hand, and the sound he made when she stroked him once, twice, was pure animal.

But Thorne wasn’t one to stay passive long.

He flipped them in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath him on the rug. Firelight danced over his shoulders as he kissed his way down her body—slow, worshipful—mouth closing over one breast, then the other, until she was arching and gasping.

His hand slid between her thighs, finding her already wet, fingers circling just right until she was writhing.

When he finally pushed inside her, it was deep and perfect and overwhelming.

They moved together like they’d been doing this for years—slow rolls of hips turning urgent, breaths mingling, the bond flaring bright and fierce between them.

He pulled back just long enough to meet her eyes.

“Say it,” he rasped.

Elara cupped his face, nails scraping lightly along his jaw. “Yes. I’m yours.”

His control snapped.

He thrust hard, angling just right, one hand sliding under her to lift her hips. The rhythm turned wild—deep, claiming strokes that had her crying out, claws pricking his back.

When she came, it was with his name on her lips and her body clenching around him.

Thorne followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep and stilling as he spilled inside her. But he didn’t stop there.

His mouth found the curve of her neck—the spot he’d teased before. Teeth grazed skin, pressure building.

“Do it,” she whispered, tilting her head to give him access. “Make it real.”

His growl was pure possession. Fangs extended, and he bit down—sharp pain blooming into blinding pleasure as the mating bond locked into place. The world narrowed to heat and connection and him.

When he finally released her, licking gently over the mark, they were both shaking.

The bond sang—complete, unbreakable.

Elara touched the fresh mark, smiling lazily. “Now everyone will know.”

Thorne collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, their bodies still joined. “Good,” he murmured against her lips. “Let them.”

They dozed in the fire’s glow, tangled and sated, the snow falling silently outside.

Later—much later—Elara woke to Thorne tracing the mating mark with reverent fingers.

“Sunset tomorrow,” he said quietly. “The mill.”

She nodded, pressing closer. “We’ll face it together.”

He kissed her forehead. “Always.”

Outside, the storm clouds gathered on the horizon.

But inside, wrapped in fur and each other, they burned brighter than any threat coming their way.