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.

voice barely above a whisper, a fragile

ground, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. I could

this game quite erotic. I like that I

step closer, closing the distance between us. My hand reached out, hovering

palpable warmth that drew me in. Slowly, gently, I

earlobe. A shiver ran through her, a visible tremor that

my breath ghosting across her skin. My thumb traced the

her skin, the faint stubble of

plea

flame flickering to life, ready to be fanned into a blazing inferno.

her

gentle curve of my lips that held a world of understanding. “It’s okay to be scared, Rory. This is new for

to be together, I can feel it in my bones.” My words seemed to ease her tension,

softening of her gaze. I took another step closer,

hand cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing

widening as she realized the weight of

my

feather-light touch.

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

slow, exploratory dance of tongues and lips. I tasted her fear, her

My hand moved down, tracing

her pulse, a rapid beat that mirrored my

pressed closer, a silent plea for more. My hand

fabric of her dress. A moan escaped her lips, a sound that sent a jolt of pleasure straight

kiss, trailing kisses along her jawline, her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “You’re mine,

skin, my voice a gravelly growl.

her neck. I kissed my way down, savoring the taste of

My hands roamed, mapping the contours of her body, memorizing

leaving her clad only in a thin scrap of lace. My

testament to the beauty of the

her, my hands tracing the

her hips, my lips brushing the sensitive skin of her

in my hair, holding me

whispered, her voice

up, meeting her gaze, my eyes burning with desire.

shining with unshed tears. “I’m sure. I want this. I

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

legs around my waist, her arms around

moss-covered ground, laying her down gently. The forest around us seemed

very air alive with

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