Chapter 7

Rhys

I stand just outside the door of the Whispering Pines pack house, the cold morning air biting against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the nerves twisting in my gut. Hannah’s hand is warm in mine, her touch grounding me like it always does, but even that isn’t quite enough to calm the storm inside me. I’ve faced wild predators, harsh winters, and countless miles of solitude, but this moment—walking back into that house and asking to speak with Ryan—feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

“Hey,” she says softly, tugging on my hand until I meet her gaze. Her amber eyes shimmer with unwavering warmth and determination, like she’s willing me to believe in myself the way she does. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m right here.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I know. But this is something I need to do—for us.”

She studies me for a moment, her expression softening as a small smile curves her lips. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Inside, the house is already alive with the low hum of pack life. Wolves mill about, chatting over steaming mugs of coffee, their laughter and easy camaraderie filling the air like a comforting blanket. A few heads turn as we step through the door, and though the curious glances are less guarded than they were when I first arrived, I still feel the weight of their attention pressing down on me.

Ryan is in the kitchen, a mug in hand and a tired but content look on his face as he talks with one of the pack elders. When he notices us, his expression shifts, his brow furrowing slightly as his gaze flickers between me and Hannah.

“Ryan,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected despite the nerves coiling in my chest. “Can we talk?”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he nods, setting his mug down and leading me into a quieter room off the main hall. Hannah starts to follow, but I stop her with a glance. “I’ve got this,” I tell her, my tone firm but grateful. Though she hesitates, she eventually nods and squeezes my hand before letting me go.

Ryan crosses his arms as he leans back against the wall, his posture guarded but not hostile. “What’s on your mind, Rhys?”

I take a deep breath, the words I’ve been rehearsing tumbling over themselves in my head. For a moment, I’m tempted to retreat to the safety of silence, but then I think of Hannah—her unwavering belief in me, her fierce determination to make me feel like I belong. I owe her this. More than that, I owe it to myself.

“I wanted to explain,” I begin, my voice low but steady. “About my past. About why I’m here.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he gestures for me to continue, so I do. Slowly, haltingly at first, I recount the story I’ve kept buried for so long—the betrayal, the false accusations, the exile. I tell him about the time I spent wandering, about the bitterness and loneliness that hardened me into someone I barely recognized. And then I tell him about Hannah, about how meeting her changed everything.

“She’s my mate,” I say, the words coming easier now, bolstered by the truth of them. “And I know I don’t deserve her, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that I do. I love her, Ryan. I just need you to know that.”

For a long moment, he says nothing, his gaze heavy and unreadable. The silence stretches, and my wolf stirs uneasily, but I hold my ground. Finally, Ryan exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“You’ve been through hell, Rhys. I can see that. And I’ll admit, I’ve been hard on you—probably harder than I needed to be.” He straightens, stepping forward until we’re eye to eye. “But Hannah’s happiness means everything to me. If she believes in you, then I’m willing to give you a chance.”

Relief floods through me, so intense it nearly knocks me off balance. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice rough with emotion. “I won’t let you—or her—down.”

Ryan offers a small, grudging smile, clapping me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the pack, Rhys.”

The words settle deep in my chest, a warmth spreading through me that I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. For the first time in years, I feel something dangerously close to hope.

???

The rest of the day passes in a blur of preparations for the Christmas celebration. By the time night falls, the pack house is alive with the glow of twinkling lights and the rich scent of pine and cinnamon. The pack gathers around the massive tree in the living room, their laughter and chatter filling the space as they settle in with mugs of hot cocoa, boxes of craft supplies, and armfuls of ribbons and glitter.

Hannah stands by my side, her hand resting on my arm as she surveys the scene with a glowing smile. “This is my favorite part of the holidays,” she says, her voice soft with nostalgia. “Making ornaments together—it’s like everyone brings a piece of themselves to the tree.”

I glance down at her, my chest tightening with a warmth I’m still not used to. “It’s… nice,” I admit, the words feeling inadequate to capture the sense of belonging that’s been slowly taking root in me.

She grins, nudging me playfully. “You’re part of it now, you know. Part of us.”

Hannah steps forward and grabs a small wooden ornament from the pile of supplies on the table. She hands it to me along with some paint and brushes, her eyes alight with mischief. “Here. I want to see what you come up with.”

I stare at the blank ornament, a little unsure. “I don’t think I’ve done this since I was a kid.”

“Perfect,” she says with a laugh. “It’s not about being perfect—it’s about having fun.”

Around us, the pack is fully immersed in the activity. A group of kids giggles as they cover themselves—and the table—in glitter, while one of the older wolves carefully carves intricate patterns into a wooden snowflake. Every ornament feels unique, a piece of each pack member’s personality coming through in the shapes and colors.

Hannah’s hands move deftly as she paints a tiny wolf howling at a crescent moon on her ornament. She catches me watching her and raises an eyebrow. “What? Don’t tell me the big bad lone wolf is intimidated by a little arts and crafts.”

I smirk, dipping my brush into the paint. “I think I’ll manage.”

By the time I’m finished, my ornament—a simple, black wolf silhouette against a snowy background—doesn’t look half bad. Hannah beams when I show it to her, her approval sending a rush of pride through me that I hadn’t expected.

“It’s perfect,” she says, squeezing my hand. “We’ll hang it front and center.”

The ceremony begins once everyone’s ornaments are complete, each member stepping forward to add theirs to the tree. When it’s my turn, I hesitate for a moment, the weight of what this represents pressing down on me. But then Hannah’s hand slips into mine, her touch grounding me, and I step forward to hang my ornament near the top of the tree.

The soft glow of the bulbs illuminates the room as the pack bursts into cheers and applause. Ryan steps forward, his voice carrying over the crowd as he officially welcomes me into the pack, introducing me as Hannah’s mate. The room erupts into a chorus of congratulations, and though I feel the familiar tug of discomfort at the attention, it’s tempered by the warmth of the pack’s acceptance.

Hannah leans close, her voice a soft murmur meant only for me. “See? You belong here.”

And for the first time in years, I believe her.

Later, as the celebration winds down, Hannah pulls me away from the crowd, leading me upstairs to her room. The moment the door closes behind us, the air between us changes, charged with a quiet intensity.

Moonlight filters in through the window, bathing her skin in an ethereal glow that makes her look like a goddess. I drink in the sight of her, my gaze tracing the curves and contours of her body, pausing on the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips. She's breathtaking, a vision of radiant beauty that steals the breath from my lungs.

She steps closer, her hands finding their way to my chest as she looks up at me, her amber eyes shining with a mix of love and desire. “You did it,” she murmurs, her voice soft but filled with pride. “You faced your past. You’re here. With me.”

I cup her face in my hands, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I admit, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re my home, Hannah. My everything.”

Her breath hitches, and then she’s pulling me down, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s both tender and fiercely passionate. The rest of the world fades away as I lose myself in her, in us, the bond between us blazing brighter than ever.

My wolf growls low in my throat, urging me to claim her, to make her ours. I know I should hold back, should take things slowly, but the primal need burning through my veins is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

She responds eagerly, her lips parting beneath mine as she welcomes me deeper. The kiss is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through my body. I carry her to the bed, pinning her beneath me as I ravage her mouth with increasing urgency.

My hands roam her body, mapping her curves, committing every dip and swell to memory. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her as my fingers skim over her sensitive flesh. I break the kiss, trailing my lips along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, granting me better access as I nip and suck at the delicate skin, leaving blooming marks of possession.

Reluctantly, I pull away, sitting back on my heels as I drink in the sight of her. She looks thoroughly debauched, her lips swollen, her hair mussed, her skin flushed with arousal. I ache to be inside her, to feel her welcoming heat enveloping me. But first, I want to taste her, to worship her with my mouth until she's writhing and pleading for release.

Slowly, reverently, I strip away her remaining clothing, baring her to my hungry gaze. I take my time, savoring each newly exposed inch of skin, pausing to maps her body with my hands and mouth. She trembles beneath my touch, her core growing slick with evidence of her desire.

Parting her thighs, I settle between them, the heat of her sex a siren's call I'm helpless to resist. I breathe in the intoxicating scent of her arousal, feeling my wolf surge to the forefront, demanding I claim what's ours. Leaning in, I run my tongue through her wet folds, groaning at the burst of flavor that explodes across my tastebuds. She cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair as I set to work pleasing her with lips, tongue, and teeth.

I lap at her with long, slow strokes, savoring the way her body responds to my ministrations. Her thighs tremble, her hips bucking as I bring her closer and closer to the edge. I feel her tightening around my tongue, her breath coming in sharp gasps and whimpers. With a few well-placed strokes, I send her flying, her orgasm crashing over her in wave after wave of ecstasy.

As she comes down from her high, I crawl back up her body, pausing to pepper kisses along her trembling skin. When I reach her face, I claim her lips in a searing kiss, letting her taste her own essence on my tongue. She moans into my mouth, her hands tugging impatiently at my clothes.

I acquiesce to her unspoken demand, shrugging out of my shirt before settling back between her thighs. The hard length of my arousal presses insistently against her core, and I grit my teeth against the urge to surge forward and bury myself inside her.

"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice rough with restraint.

"Yes," she breathes, her eyes dark and blown with lust. "Please, Rhys. I need you."

Unable to deny her, I thrust forward, sheathing myself inside her welcoming heat. A guttural moan tears from my throat at the exquisite sensation of her walls gripping me tightly. I pause for a moment, allowing her to adjust to my size, before I begin to move.

I start slow, savoring the drag of her body against mine, the way her breath hitches with each deep stroke. But soon, the need becomes too much, and I lose myself to the rhythm of our lovemaking. My hips snap forward, driving into her again and again, each thrust punctuated by the slap of skin against skin and our mingled moans of pleasure.

The tension builds at the base of my spine as I feel my release fast approaching. Hannah clutches at me, her nails raking down my back, urging me on. Overcome with the need to claim her, to bind her to me in every way, I surge forward, sinking my teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The coppery tang of her blood floods my mouth as she cries out in pleasure, her body tensing around me.

Together, we shatter, our climaxes crashing over us in a dizzying rush of sensation. I seal my lips over the bite mark, laving at it with my tongue as I rock through the aftershocks, thoroughly spent.

As we drift back down to earth, I gather Hannah close, cradling her against my chest as I nuzzle into her hair. The bond between us pulses in time with my heartbeat, strong and unbreakable. In this moment, held safe and warm in my mate's arms, I feel a sense of belonging I've never known before. It settles deep in my bones, chasing away the last vestiges of my loneliness and replacing it with a profound sense of peace.

Hannah sighs contentedly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "Merry Christmas," she murmurs, smiling up at me with a tenderness that steals the air from my lungs.

I grin back at her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Merry Christmas," I echo, sealing my promise with a soft kiss. "Forever yours."

And I mean it with every fiber of my being. In the arms of my fated mate, I've found home again. And I plan on spending the rest of my life showing her just how much she means to me.