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"What happened out there?" I ask softly, trying to distract myself from our proximity. "Did you learn anything?"
Marcus sighs heavily. "Not as much as we'd hoped. We showed up at the Howling Pines pack house – it's basically just Theo's ranch. There were more pack members there than we expected, and we got caught."
I nod, encouraging him to continue as I move to clean another wound.
"Ryan ended up accusing Theo of threatening the women," Marcus explains, wincing as I dab at a particularly tender spot. "Theo denied it, of course. But by then, emotions were already running high. Before we knew it, both packs were in a full-on fist fight."
"That explains all this," I murmur, gesturing to his injuries.
Marcus nods grimly. "Yeah. We all got pretty beat up. Eventually, both groups just... retreated. We didn't really resolve anything."
I frown, processing this information as I continue tending to his wounds. The situation seems to be escalating, and I can't help but worry about what might come next.
We lapse into silence as I work, my fingers gently cleaning and bandaging the cuts on his arms and chest. The quiet between us grows heavy, charged with an unspoken tension.
As I finish up, my eyes trace the strong lines of his shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest. Heat pools low in my belly, and I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand. I smooth the last bandage into place, my touch lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.
The air feels thick, electric. I can feel Marcus's eyes on me, intense and searching. When I finally look up, the heat in his gaze makes my breath catch.
"Zoe," Marcus says, his voice low and rough. I meet his eyes, unable to look away.
"Yeah?" I manage to squeak out.
His hand comes up, cupping my cheek. "I thought I was going to lose you," he murmurs. "When I saw you at the pack house, safe... my wolf..."
I swallow hard, hyper-aware of his touch, his proximity. "I'm okay," I whisper. "I'm right here."
For a moment, we're frozen, caught in each other's gaze. Then, with a growl that's more wolf than man, Marcus pulls me closer.
"Mine," he rumbles, and before I can process what's happening, his lips are on mine.
The moment Marcus's lips meet mine, the world fades away, leaving only the scorching heat of his touch. It's as if a match has been struck, igniting a blaze that threatens to consume us both. His kiss is not just a press of lips—it's a fierce claiming, a wordless declaration of his need for me.
His hands twist into my hair, pulling me closer, angling my head to deepen our kiss. I yield to him, my fingers digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders, urging him nearer still. A lowgrowl rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through me, stoking the fire he's kindled.
With a suddenness that leaves me breathless, Marcus breaks our kiss, his dark hazel eyes ablaze with a possessive fire. Without a word, he lifts me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. His strength is effortless, a silent testament to the powerful wolf shifter within him. I feel delicate and cherished in his embrace, yet there's an undeniable edge of danger that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through my veins.
He carries me to the bedroom, the dim light casting long shadows across the floor. Gently, he lays me down upon the bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Our lips find each other once more, the intensity of our connection growing with each passing second. His hands rove over me, mapping the contours of my body with a reverence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and adored.
His fingers skim the hem of my shirt, pausing to seek my permission. I meet his gaze, finding in his eyes a silent question. With a nod, I give him the answer he seeks. In a single, fluid motion, he lifts my shirt over my head, revealing the delicate lace of my bra.
A sound somewhere between a growl and a groan escapes him as his eyes drink me in. "So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly purr that resonates deep within me. His fingertips trace the edge of the lace, each touch sending ripples of anticipation through my body.
With practiced ease, he releases the clasp of my bra, the garment falling away to reveal my breasts. He dips his head, pressing tender kisses along the swell of my flesh, his tongue darting out to tease my hardening nipples. A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, causing me to arch into his touch with a gasp.
My hands shake as I fumble with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. Marcus assists me, his movements swift and sure as he discards his clothing.
Once we are both bare, Marcus takes a moment to admire me, his gaze sweeping over my body with an intensity that makes my heart race. "Perfect," he whispers, the sincerity in his voice making me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
I take a moment to return the favor, letting my eyes roam across the chiseled planes of his chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen. The man is a masterpiece of raw, masculine power, his body sculpted from years of physical labor and military discipline. The smattering of hair across his chest narrows to a tantalizing trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans, a silent invitation that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through me.
His biceps flex as he moves, the muscles shifting beneath his taut skin, and I can't help but appreciate the sheer, breathtaking maleness of him. It's not just his physical appearance that stirs my desire, but the strength of character that lies beneath, the quiet strength and fierce protectiveness that draw me to him like a moth to a flame.
His hands trace the contours of my body, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through me. He kisses his way down my neck, his lips warm and insistent. I arch into him, my fingers threading through his hair as he continues his descent, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The coiled strength of his shoulders under my hands makes my pulse race, and the feel of his stubble against my skin sends shivers of delight through me. The scent of his arousal mingles with the musky aroma of pinethat clings to him, a heady combination that makes my head spin and my body ache with need.
When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, looking up at me with a hunger that takes my breath away. I nod, giving him silent permission to continue, and he rewards me with a wicked smile.
He settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. I squirm in anticipation, my heart pounding in my chest. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he lowers his head.
