That was three days ago.
Three days since I’ve had my hands on her luscious body.
Three days since I’ve seen her in person.
Although she has been blowing up my phone. We’ve texted until late in the night every night since we got back. There’s so much still to discover. To know about her.
But I still have the memory-wipe thing hanging over my head, and I have to figure out what to do.
I ignored Garrett’s calls until he threatened to call his dad—Alpha Green—if he didn’t hear from me. So I called and told him to fuck off.
Nicer than that, though, because I do want to keep my balls.
“Mark her or wipe her, those are your two options,” he ordered. “I’m not having a random in Cave Hills exposing both packs.”
So now I have a hard-on a mile long thinking about marking her, which is like getting married for a wolf. Only more. Because once a wolf has marked his mate—it’s impossible to leave her. And I’m all in. I just have to make sure she is.
“Hey, Legs,” I rumble, bumping her up against the Beamer and pinning her there with my hips, my arms caging her on either side.
She twines her arms around my neck and beams up at me. I feel every megawatt of that smile in my chest. She radiates joy. Openness. Connection. I thought she was beautiful before, and that was when her walls were up. When she projected the Cave Hills Princess vibe. Now, she’s nothing short of breathtaking. Like a fucking goddess.
And she’s all mine.
At least, I want her to be.
“Nice game, Muscles,” she purrs. “So, tell me something—do you guys have to pretend to drop the ball and let yourselves get tackled sometimes, just to make it look real?”
“Shh.” I make a show of looking around and grin. “Yeah. The game to us is to see how exciting we can make it before we lose. Or win.”
“Mmm, fun.” She squeezes my biceps and gives me bedroom eyes.
“Christ, Sloane. You keep looking at me like that, you’re going to get fucked right up against this car,” I growl.
“Is that the plan for tonight? You might still have to crawl in the window. Although Aunt Jen is crazy about you. You’re her hero, too.”
My hips jerk against hers, grinding my throbbing erection into her belly. “Stop getting me so hard. We actually have to talk.”
She raises her brows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, let’s go for a drive.” I open the driver’s side.
Her lips purse into a smirk. “And I’m guessing you want to drive?”
I grin and lean in for a slow kiss. “Always.” I pry the keys out of her hand while we mate mouths.
“Where are we going?”
“Let’s just drive.” I pull out of the mess of traffic and end up following my wolf’s call up to the mountain. He wants her so bad, I’m already getting primed to mark her. I pull off before we get to the mesa, where the Wolf Ridge kids like to build fires and drink beer on weekends. Then I turn off the car.
“Is this your version of Blueberry Hill?”
“Maybe. Listen, it’s about what you know. What I got ordered to do.”
She stiffens. “You can’t wipe my memories, Bo.”
I grab her hand and pull it to my chest. “I’m not. I won’t. But here’s the thing.” I pause, realizing my heart is pounding. Does she feel it? I draw in a breath. “Wolves claim their mates. For life. There’s a biology to it—a bite where we mark our mates’ skin with our scent to keep other males away. If I mark you, they’ll know you’re safe.”
Sloane gets very quiet. Barely breathing.
“So you want to bite me?”
My laugh tumbles out—a tension relief. “I’m gonna bite you, yeah.” I say it like she has no choice, but of course I wouldn’t claim her if she didn’t agree. “And that means you’re mine. Forever. Because I love you, Sloane. You’re the fucking Earth and moon and stars to me. And I would die before I let you go. Even without a mating bite.”
I scent the salt of tears before I realize she’s crying.
"Sloane?" I’m slightly alarmed. Fuck. If she doesn't want this, we'll find another way.
"I love you, too,” she chokes. “You’re so much more than I ever expected or hoped for in a friend, boyfriend, lover—anything. And what scares me most is losing you. So, hell yes. I want you to bite me.”
I’m on her in a second. The damn car is way too small for me, but I lunge across the center console and claim her mouth, licking between her lips, drinking from her. Just knowing she’s consented has my canines descending, the serum for marking dripping sweetness on my tongue.
I can’t lose control. I need to figure out how to do it without killing her—because claiming bites are usually deep and in the vicinity of the jugular. “Stay there,” I growl and throw the door open, stalking around to her side. I drop to my knees in front of her open door and get my head between her knees. “Get those jeans down, beautiful. I need in.”