Draven**

After confessing to Rory in the living room in front of everyone, I took her hand and led her to my room. As we entered,

the air crackled with anticipation. Once inside, I turned to Rory with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Rory,” I

began, my voice low and husky, “I’ve always known that you were meant to be mine since I first saw you.” I felt Rory’s

heart skip a beat as she looked into my intense gaze, feeling a rush of desire neither of us had ever experienced before.

With a sly grin, I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “You are mine, Rory. And tonight, I’m going to show you just

how much you belong to me.” And with that, I sealed our fate with a passionate kiss that left them both breathless and

hungry for more. From that moment on, there was no turning back – we were destined to be together, our connection

growing stronger with each passing second. “Let’s go somewhere you will be more at home,” I said as I made a portal

and we walked through into a forest in the Inbetween where I liked to go to escape Blackbriar. If only this place truly

existed, instead it is just an extension of my magic.

Upon exiting the portal, the air in the clearing was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of pine and something wilder,

something primal. It clung to my skin like a second cloak, heightening every sense. I could feel the hum of magic in the

earth beneath my boots, a familiar pulse that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. Rory stood before me, her slender

frame bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Her wolfish eyes, a deep amber, held a mixture of fear and longing, a

virgin’s trepidation warring with the undeniable pull of our bond.

My fingers itched to trace the delicate lines of her face, to feel the softness of her skin against my calloused palms. But I

held back, savoring the tension, the electric charge that crackled between us. This wasn’t just about desire, though it

burned hot and fierce within me. This was about claiming, about marking her as mine, about forging a connection that would transcend the physical. Our kind, the supernatural beings who walked unseen amongst humans, understood the

gravity of this moment. Mating wasn’t merely a union of bodies; it was a merging of souls, a binding of destinies.

“Rory,” I whispered, my voice rough with emotion. The sound of her name on my lips felt like a spell, a potent incantation

that drew her closer. She took a hesitant step forward, her bare feet silent on the forest floor. The scent of her, a heady

mix of wildflowers and something uniquely her, enveloped me, clouding my thoughts.

whisper, a fragile thread of sound

cheeks flushed a delicate pink. I could see the conflict within her, the virgin’s

the wolf’s instinct to submit to her mate. I found this game quite erotic. I like that I will be her first and her

us. My hand

her skin, a palpable warmth that drew me in. Slowly,

fingertips grazing her earlobe. A shiver ran through

skin. My thumb traced the delicate curve

of her skin, the faint stubble

then, her amber eyes meeting mine, a silent plea for reassurance shining in their depths. I

it all, I saw the desire, a flame flickering to life, ready to be fanned

her

curve of my lips that held a world of understanding. “It’s okay to

my bones.” My words seemed to

I took another step closer, our bodies almost touching,

hand cupped her cheek,

as she realized the weight of my words. This

as my mate, about forging a bond that would last

brushing hers in a feather-light touch. A spark ignited, a jolt

up to clutch at my shirt, her nails digging into the

and lips. I tasted her fear, her desire, her

yearning. My hand moved down, tracing the curve

her throat. I could feel her pulse, a rapid beat that

more. My hand slid down, cupping her

dress. A moan escaped her lips, a sound

kisses along her jawline, her neck, nipping at the sensitive

my voice a gravelly

line of her neck.

her desire. My hands roamed, mapping the contours of her body, memorizing every

the forest floor, leaving her clad only in a

body a work of art, a testament to the beauty of the supernatural. Her skin glowed with a soft, ethereal light, a

I knelt before her, my hands tracing the curves of her hips, my lips ghosting her

hands tracing the curves of her hips, my lips brushing the sensitive skin

in my hair, holding me

she whispered, her voice

gaze, my eyes burning with desire. “Are

eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m sure.

possessiveness washed over me, a primal urge to claim her, to mark her as mine.

legs around my

I carried her to the soft moss-covered ground, laying her

the very air alive

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