Aylin's body resisted, but her wolf did not.
The steady rise and fall of Sasha's chest against hers, the warmth of his embrace, and his deep, grounding scent all chipped away at the wall she had spent years building. She had survived by sheer willpower, refusing to submit to anyone and never allowing herself to be vulnerable.
But her wolf knew something she didn't.
This wasn't submission.
This was home.
A low sound rumbled from deep within Sasha's chest, a vibration she felt rather than heard. His grip was strong, protective, but not demanding. He was not forcing her to stay; he was just waiting for her to realize what she already knew.
Aylin exhaled, her breathing shaky.
She should push him away from her.
She should remind him that she was not his, and that she had fought for years not to belong to anyone.
But her body didn't move.
Her wolf stretched inside her, curling into his warmth and purring with pleasure. 'He is ours.'
Aylin clenched her jaw, refusing to acknowledge the truth of it. But as Sasha's hands traced slow, soothing patterns against her back, and his breath brushed against the curve of her neck, she felt something inside her unravel.
For the first time in years, she was not preparing to fight, flee, or make excuses.
Sasha must have sensed it. Her body relaxed and her breath became more steady as he drew back just enough to meet her gaze. His hands cradled her against him, his grip steady but not tight.
His dark gaze met hers, heat smoldering beneath the surface. His thumb traced slow circles over her lower back, further grounding her and making it impossible to ignore the attraction between them.
"Aylin," he murmured.
She didn't know what he was asking. To let go? To stop pretending she didn't feel it too?
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her body was betraying her, leaning into his touch despite her mind screaming at her to resist.
Sasha's fingers trailed up her arm, grazing against bare skin and sending a shiver down her spine. He was so close. His scent was in her lungs, wrapping around her like a claim before any words could be spoken.
Her lips parted as she struggled for air, but it was a losing battle.
Sasha's gaze dropped to her mouth, his expression darkening and becoming more possessive. "Say you don't want this," he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Aylin swallowed hard, but the words wouldn't come. She couldn't lie. Not this time.
Sasha's lips curled in satisfaction as she remained silent. He raised a hand and brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face. The tenderness of the action made her heart race.
This is dangerous. But she didn't move away.
Her hands, as if moving independently, rested lightly against his chest. Under the thin fabric of his white shirt, she could feel his heart beating steadily and powerfully. A steadying rhythm that matched her own.
Sasha exhaled slowly, as if he would been waiting for this moment for longer than he wanted to admit. His thumb traced along her jaw, lifting her chin slightly. His touch was deliberate and careful, as if he was testing her limits and giving her room to run.
She didn't.
Aylin wasn't sure who moved first.
Maybe it was him, closing the last sliver of space between them. Maybe it was her, leaning up into the heat of him.
But once their lips met, everything else faded away.
The tension, exhaustion, and fear vanished in the heat of his lips against hers.
Sasha kissed her like he had been starving for this. It was as if he had known all along that she would be his, and now that she was in his arms, he would not let her go.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he pulled her closer, his hands gripping her waist with the kind of strength that sent fire racing beneath her skin.
Aylin gasped against his mouth, but he did not let her back away. His fingers slid into her hair, angling her head as he deepened the kiss, soaking up her surrender as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.
Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if she could anchor herself in the storm he had become. Sasha groaned softly, his grip tightening as he pressed her against the wall, his body a firm, unyielding presence beside hers. His scent, heat, and claim were everywhere.
Her wolf purred in satisfaction, whispering what she already knew. 'He is ours.'
When they finally broke apart, Aylin's breath came in short, uneven gasps. Her lips were swollen and tingling with the memory of his kiss.
Sasha pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing just as ragged.
"You're mine," he murmured, his voice rough and possessive.
Aylin should have fought the claim.
She should have pushed him away, reminding him that she had fought for years to belong to no one. But her wolf, her treacherous, insufferable wolf, agreed.
And for the first time, Aylin lacked the strength to resist it.
Sasha didn't let her go.
His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling, the air between them thick with heat and unspoken words. Aylin's lips were still tingling from his kiss, and her body was humming with the aftereffects of surrender.
She should have stopped this. Should have pulled away before it went any further.
But when Sasha's hands moved, one sliding down to her waist, the other tracing the length of her arm with quiet reverence, she didn't resist.
Sasha exhaled slowly, his lips brushing against her temple, his grip tightening as if to reassure himself she was still there. His body radiated warmth, steady and strong, a presence that made her exhaustion feel heavier, lulling her into something dangerously close to peace.
"You need rest," he murmured against her skin.
Aylin swallowed, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.
"I can rest on the chair. You can take the bed. It's yours."
Sasha chuckled, a deep, velvety sound. "No, little wolf." His arms shifted, sliding beneath her legs in a single, fluid motion.
Before she could react, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
A startled sound caught in her throat, her hands gripping his shoulders instinctively. "Sasha—"
"You don't get to argue," he said smoothly, carrying her toward the massive bed as if she weighed nothing. "Not after you've spent hours running yourself into the ground."
Aylin stiffened. "I don't need—"
Sasha dropped her onto the bed. She let out a soft gasp as her back hit the luxurious plush bedding. The mattress was firm, and the sheets cool against her flushed skin.
Sasha stood over her, his gaze dark and unreadable as he took in the sight of her sprawled across his bed, her hair wild against the pillows, the soft dress clinging to her curves.
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
Aylin's breath caught in her throat.
Slowly, he leaned down, placing both hands on either side of her head, caging her in. His weight pressed slightly into the bed, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body but not touching. Not yet.
"You are too stubborn for your own good," he murmured.
Aylin clenched her jaw. "And you are too possessive."
Sasha smirked. "That's never been a secret."
His fingers brushed over her cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. Aylin's body betrayed her, leaning into it before she could stop herself.
His smirk faded, replaced by something quieter. Something deeper.
He lowered his head, his lips a breath away from hers.