“Stop fighting me, Kenna.” Ryan punched his hips hard, and her pussy tightened almost painfully around his cock. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Accept it.” Another punch of his hips. “Fucking accept it.”
Makenna bit his chin. Not breaking skin, just cautioning him. “There’s no mating bond. Accept that.”
He had to admire her spirit. “Maybe there isn’t.” Of course, he didn’t believe that for even a second. “But we’ll be mated, Kenna, one way or the other.” If that meant imprinting, fine. He didn’t give a damn how they bonded just as long as they did. He refused to give her up. “Or are you going to lie and tell me you don’t want that?” He licked and sipped at her mouth. “Lie, Kenna. Do it. I dare you.” She didn’t, and he rewarded her with two hard thrusts. “See, we both want the same thing. All you have to do is reach out and take it.”
He made it sound so simple. And so very tempting that Makenna felt herself wavering, especially while her wolf was urging her to claim him. If he wanted to take the chance and forsake his mate, that was his choice, right? It wasn’t like she was taking advantage of someone naïve and dimwitted. He was a big boy, quite capable of making his own decisions. He fully understood the choice he was making and all the issues around it. He wasn’t impulsive, which meant he’d thought this through. Still . . . “You have to be sure. You have to be one hundred percent positive that I’m who you want, no matter what.”
Ryan slid both hands into her hair, pinning her with his gaze. “You’re all I want. All I’ll ever want.” He circled his hips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Say it.” He thrust with an impatient growl. “Fucking say it.”
Makenna inhaled deeply, tired of fighting him—tired of fighting herself and her wolf too. He’d made his choice. Fuck fate. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.” Triumph, satisfaction, and naked possessiveness glinted in his rarely expressive eyes. Then all thoughts were sucked from her brain as he began to violently hammer in and out of her. “Fuck.” She held tight, claws digging so deep into his shoulders that she drew blood. A growl of approval rumbled in his chest. So she raked her claws over his back deep enough to leave permanent brands.
Ryan paused only long enough to hook her legs over his shoulders, and then he was pounding into her again—deeper this time, so deep he knew it hurt her a little. Her pussy tightened, bathing his cock in cream, and she arched into every thrust.
Fisting her hair, he yanked her head aside to expose her throat. He licked and sucked at the spot on her neck he’d chosen, letting her know what was coming. Then he bit. Sank his teeth down hard, tasting blood. Makenna’s pussy squeezed and fluttered around him as she came, screaming. All the while, he licked and sucked at the bite, making it a definitive brand that would be recognized for exactly what it was—a claiming mark.
Ryan grunted as Makenna reared up and bit the crook of his neck. No, she wasn’t just biting him; she was marking him. Claiming him right back. That knowledge threw him right over the fucking edge. Tightening his fist in her hair, he jammed his cock deep and exploded inside his mate.
Boneless, Makenna lay with her eyes closed as her body was racked by little aftershocks. Ryan was irrevocably hers now, and that knowledge warmed every part of her. Still, the whole thing was bittersweet, because there was no bond to accompany the claiming. The absence of it was a physical ache. The only thing that eased it was the knowledge that the imprinting process would now surely begin.
Letting her legs slide from his shoulders, Ryan licked at the fresh bite as his now-relaxed wolf rumbled in satisfaction. It was higher on her neck than most claiming marks were. He wanted it to be the first thing she noticed every morning; wanted everyone who looked at her to know she was taken. “Now you can’t ever again argue that you belong to me.”
She frowned. “Actually—”
“Don’t dare even try it,” he warned her. But she was laughing. He nipped her jaw.
“Hey!”
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so she sprawled on top of him. “Then don’t tease me.”
“But it’s fun.”
He grunted.
“Yes, it is. You have to admit, you wouldn’t want me any other way.”
Ryan frowned. “Actually—”
“Fuck you, White Fang.” She chuckled. Then she gave her wolf what the animal had wanted for a long time.
The woman could shift fast, thought Ryan as he suddenly had a beautiful silver wolf standing over him. He stroked her neck as she licked his jaw. A butterfly flew in their direction, snatching her attention. The wolf chased it, trying to swat it with her paw. Apparently she was easily distracted. That assumption was proven when the sound of a bee had her whirling, searching for the insect. Ryan almost smiled. His wolf lunged for the surface, wanting time with his mate. Ryan retreated and gave it to him.
Seeing that her mate had shifted, the female playfully snapped her teeth and bounded away. The male raced through the trees, following the scent of his mate. She was fast. But he was faster. Could track her anywhere. Soon she was in his sight. The male wolf knew there was a stream ahead. Knew she would have to turn. He took another path; came at her from the front.
The female didn’t halt as her mate neared. Didn’t try to skirt him. She pounced with a bark, knocked him to the ground. He got to his feet. Alert. Still. She didn’t like that. Her snarl was a taunt; she wanted to play. She’d teach him how.