Chapter 170

Aria

Darren kicked the bedroom door open with a swift nudge of his foot, the heavy wood banging against the wall before he stepped inside and closed it behind us with another kick. I giggled as he set me down gently on the hardwood floor. But then a flush crept up my neck, heating my cheeks.

“Darren,” I murmured, “is the entire pack going to be… listening? While we, you know…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, my blush deepening as I glanced toward the door, imagining a hundred ears pressed against the wood.

He snorted. “Aria, listen.” He gestured toward the floor, where the faint thump of music and the clatter of mugs drifted up through the boards. “They’ll be partying until the sun comes up. It’s tradition. No one’s got time to eavesdrop on us.” His eyes sparkled, but then he crossed the room to the small record player tucked in the corner. “Still, just to be safe…”

I watched as he set the needle down, and a soft melody began to fill the room. He turned back to me, extending a hand, and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips as I stepped into his arms.

He pulled me close, one hand settling at the small of my back while the other clasped mine. We swayed together, the rhythm guiding us in lazy circles across the room. The only light came from the full moon spilling through the window, casting the floorboards in a silver hue.

I pressed my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart beneath the deep blue fabric of his robe. It was a sound I’d come to know better than my own, and it comforted me in ways I never thought possible.

We didn’t speak—just danced. But it was a comfortable sort of silence, the sort of silence that’s secretly filled with a thousand words and more.

After a while, Darren’s fingers slid beneath my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes locked onto mine, and my breath caught when I saw the tender yet intense look in them. He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that started soft and tentative, like he was tasting me for the first time all over again.

Then it deepened, his mouth claiming mine with newfound hunger. I melted into him, my fingers twisting in the fabric of his robe as if I might collapse otherwise.

Finally, Darren pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against mine for a moment before he sank to his knees in front of me. My stomach fluttered as his hands found the clasps of my ceremonial robe. Slowly, almost too slowly, he unfastened them one by one, his fingers brushing my skin and sending sparks racing through me.

The white fabric slipped from my shoulders, cascading to the floor around my feet. I stood there, fully nude, the cool air prickling my skin—and then I saw his eyes widen, his breath hitching as he took me in.

“Goddess,” he whispered, and I knew he wasn’t referring to the one on the moon.

I blushed harder, heat flooding my face as I followed his gaze. My body shimmered under the moonlight, covered in intricate, glowing designs—swirling symbols and crescent moons painted across my chest, down my stomach, along my thighs. Whorls and lines, all cascading down, down toward the earth.

Wendy’s handiwork, done earlier that evening. She’d said it was tradition, but I hadn’t realized how beautiful it would look until now, the luminescent paint catching the moonlight like liquid silver.

Darren reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of a moon on my hip. His touch was light, but it set my nerves ablaze, a shiver racing up my spine as he followed the lines up my side, across my ribs, to the swell of my breast.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his eyes roving across my body like I was a work of art.

I couldn’t speak, my throat too tight as he rose to his feet, pulling me toward the bed. He shed his own robe in one fluid motion, letting it fall beside mine, and I drank in the sight of him—broad shoulders, taut muscle, the moles dotted across his body like constellations.

He wasn’t wearing paint like I was, but the moonlight painted him in its own way, highlighting the planes of his chest, the dip of his hips, the hard length of his cock already straining.

He guided me onto the bed, the sheets cool against my back as I lay down. Darren settled above me, his body a warm, solid weight against mine as he braced himself on his forearms.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, we just breathed together, the air between us like static electricity. Then he kissed me again, slow and deep, and I felt the glowing paint smear where our skin pressed together, the shimmering designs spreading from my body to his.

His hand slid down my side, cupping my hip as he shifted, nudging my legs apart with his knee. I opened for him, my heart pounding as he settled between my thighs. The tip of his cock brushed against my pussy, slick and buzzing with need, and I gasped into his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, a question in his eyes, and I nodded, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He pushed into me then, filling me inch by inch until he was buried deep. A moan slipped from my lips, my head tipping back against the pillow as he stretched me.

The glowing paint smeared further, streaking across his chest, down his arms, onto the sheets beneath us as he began to move. His thrusts were tender and deliberate and deep, each one drawing a soft cry from me as he rocked into me, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside that made my toes curl.

“Darren,” I gasped, my hands sliding up his back, my nails scraping lightly across his skin as I clung to him. The mate bond hummed between us more than ever before, pulsing with every thrust, every breath.

He groaned my name in response, his lips finding mine again as he picked up the pace, driving into me with a steady and gentle yet quick rhythm.

My pussy clenched around him as the pressure built up inside of me. His hand slipped between us, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing in slow circles that made me arch beneath him, a desperate whine tearing from my throat.

“Fuck, Aria,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re so wet.”

The words sent me spiraling, the bond flaring bright as I teetered on the edge. “Darren—I’m—” I couldn’t finish, my voice breaking as the rubber band inside of me snapped.

I came hard in an instant, my pussy pulsing around his cock, waves of pleasure crashing through me so intense I saw stars.

In that moment, the mate bond almost seemed to sing. It was spiritual, sacred, our wolves howling in unison as our souls locked together tighter than ever before.

That night, he made me come over and over again, each time more intense than the last. We might have made love for hours for all I knew—time seemed to ebb and flow, a moment and an eternity all at once.

Finally, when I was so spent I could hardly even speak, he made me come one last time. He followed me over the edge that time, a guttural growl rumbling from his chest as he thrust deep and spilled himself inside of me.

His cock throbbed and twitched, and I felt every pulse as he came. We clung to each other, trembling, breathless, and utterly sated.

For a long moment, we just held each other, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high. The record player had long since stopped playing but the music downstairs was still in full force.

The moonlight still bathed us in silver, and the paint glowed faintly where it streaked our skin—across his chest, my thighs, the rumpled sheets beneath us. I traced a glowing crescent on his shoulder with my fingertip, marveling at how it shimmered.

He rolled us gently then, pulling me against his side so my head rested on his chest. My shoulder ached faintly, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his arms around me.

Finally, my eyes fluttered shut, a smile tugging at my lips as sleep pulled me under. Darren’s breathing evened out beside me, his arm tightening around me one last time.

We fell asleep just like that, wrapped in each other, glowing in the moonlight.