I watch, dumbfounded, as Lenora gets up off me like she didn’t just completely rearrange the tectonic plates of my entire existence.
She’s already pulling her shorts back on—what’s left of them, anyway—brushing dirt from her thighs like we didn’t just have what I can only describe as the most feral, soul-shattering experience of my life.
She doesn’t even look winded.
Meanwhile, I’m still flat on the forest floor, pants halfway down my legs, staring up at the canopy like I’ve just had a spiritual awakening. A bird chirps somewhere overhead. It feels mocking.
"What the hell," I mutter under my breath.
Lenora glances over her shoulder, her silver hair catching the light like a halo. "You okay?"
I sit up slowly, brushing leaves off my ass and trying to piece together a sentence that doesn’t sound like I’ve forgotten how to speak.
"You just—" I gesture vaguely at the tree, the air, my very exposed lower half. "—you attacked me."
She raises a brow. "You followed me into the woods."
"You said you were hurting! I thought you were injured, not—" I trail off, still stunned, "—that kind of hurting."
Lenora chuckles. It’s soft, smug, devastating.
"Lesson learned," she says with zero remorse, reaching down to offer me a hand. "Don’t stalk a horny she-wolf into the woods."
I take her hand, and she tugs me up effortlessly. I’m still reeling. My knees feel like overcooked pasta.
"So... do we talk about this?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, as if I’m not internally spiraling.
She tilts her head, lips quirking. "Are you ready to talk about this?"
I open my mouth. Then close it.
The walk back to the cottage is quieter than I expect—not awkward, but charged. My fingers brush hers a few times. I don’t know if it’s an accident or not, but I don’t pull away.
When we step through the trees and see the porch again, my stomach tightens.
"Your dad—" I pause. "He didn’t hear us, did he?"
Lenora gives me a look.
"Right. Super hearing." I cringe.
"Don’t worry about it," she says, turning toward me. Her expression shifts—no longer teasing, but something softer. Vulnerable.
"And I’m sorry for... attacking you," she adds, scratching the back of her neck like she’s trying not to combust from awkwardness.
I blink. Attacking me?
Is that what we’re calling it?
In fact, let’s do it again.
Right now. Maybe against the other tree.
But I don’t say that.
"I’ve just been so frustrated," she continues, her voice quieter now. "I needed to take the edge off. And my mate—you were there—and I wasn’t thinking straight."
She says it all in one breath, like she’s worried if she pauses, she won’t say it at all. Her eyes flicker to mine, searching for judgment.
"Lenora." I run a hand through my hair. "I don’t feel... attacked."
I take a cautious step closer.
"I mean, yeah, it was... unexpected. But I’m not traumatized. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want." I hesitate, then add, "You just got there faster."
She snorts. "Faster?"
"Much faster," I say, deadpan.
Lenora lets out a laugh, the sound rich and unrestrained. That kind of laugh that shakes loose something warm in my chest. Her head tips back slightly, silver hair falling down her shoulders like moonlight turned liquid, and I swear she glows in this light—wild and barefoot, still flushed from what we just did.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to piece myself back together. Her laughter softens, and she turns toward me again, her cheeks tinged pink but her eyes holding steady.
"I’m sorry for... attacking you," she adds, biting her lip like she’s half-expecting me to be mad.
In fact, if it were up to me, we’d still be doing that.
I shift slightly against the tree, trying to get my breath back, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
"I’ve just been so frustrated," she continues, gaze flickering somewhere over my shoulder. "I needed to take the edge off, and my mate—you—were there and I wasn’t thinking straight."
I nod slowly, though everything inside me is still a little fried. My skin is tingling. My blood’s still running hot. She’s standing there looking guilty while I’m thinking about round two, round three—hell, round seven.
"You know," I say, licking my dry lips, "I still don’t know how to feel about the whole mate thing..."
Her shoulders tense ever so slightly.
"...But I do know we have amazing sexual chemistry," I finish, tone light but honest.
She meets my gaze, and a smile unfurls on her face. It’s softer this time. Less teasing, more real. Her gray eyes catch mine like they always do—calm and stormy all at once.
"We definitely do," she murmurs, and then turns to start walking, her back toward me.
Something restless stirs in my chest. I’m not finished talking. Not yet.
"Will it always be like that?" I ask, voice low. And not just about the sex—I mean the intensity, the connection. The way I could feel her even before I touched her. Like I was already wired for her, like we fit together in some strange, ancient way that defies logic.
She pauses mid-step. The air shifts between us.
She turns slowly and meets my eyes again. For a moment, she studies me like she’s deciding how honest she wants to be.
"It can be," she says finally, voice hushed, like she’s sharing a secret. "If we want it to be."
She takes a step closer, slow and deliberate.
"And trust me..." Her voice dips, sultry and low, "It only gets better when the bond deepens."
I already saw stars. Twice.
She’s close now. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin, her scent wrapping around me like a drug. Pine, vanilla, something distinctly her. My wolf—if I have one—is rolling in it like it’s found home.
Lenora gives me a knowing smirk and steps back again, turning away.
"Come on, we should get back before my dad gets suspicious."
That yanks me back to earth.
"Right. Super hearing," I say with a wince, already imagining the lecture—or worse, the look.
She laughs again, and I follow her through the trees, walking side by side.
The silence that settles now is different. It’s not awkward or heavy. Just... content. Like we’ve crossed some invisible line neither of us can uncross. I don’t know what this means for us, not yet. I’m still trying to make sense of it all—wolves, mates, bonds—but I do know I want more of whatever just happened.
She brushes against my side as we walk, not quite holding hands, but close. Her fingers graze mine, once. Twice. Testing.
We reach the edge of the trees, the small cottage visible again through the clearing. I can already smell food cooking—her dad’s doing, probably—and it’s oddly grounding.
Lenora stops, turning to face me again.
"Listen," she says, tone suddenly serious. "About earlier... if it was too much, or too fast, I won’t hold it against you if you want to set boundaries."
I study her, trying to find the right words. I’ve never met someone like her—fierce and vulnerable all at once. I know she’s trying to protect me, trying to make room for my hesitations, but I don’t want to lie.
"I liked it," I say. Simple. Honest. "Maybe a little too much."
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to grin. "Noted."
I reach for the door, and before I push it open, I glance back at her. "And for what it’s worth... I think I’m starting to understand what this bond thing feels like."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah," I say. "It feels like... you."
Her smile could light a city.