Page 34 of North’s Claim

We burn down every lie that told us we were broken.

And as her body tightens around me, her moans spilling like confessions, my heart threatens to tear wide open.

Because for the first time in my life… I want everything.

Her. This. Us.

And when we fall, together, shaking, clinging, undone, it isn’t just her that comes apart.

I do too.

Right into her hands.

Chapter 13

Nyxa

Iwake up first.

The room is still bathed in shadows, the early light creeping through the curtains like it’s afraid to disturb us. North lies beside me, one arm flung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in that calm, heavy rhythm of deep sleep. Even bruised and bandaged, he looks like something untouchable, mine for now, though I know better than to believe in forever.

But god, last night...

A slow smile curls across my lips as I slide out of bed, biting back a gasp at the delicious ache between my thighs. Every step is a reminder of his hands, his mouth, the weight of him moving inside me, like he had all the time in the world to put me back together.

And he did.

He kept his promise.

Made me come like no one else ever had, not even close.

It wasn’t just sex, it was something else. Something real and mine.

I pad into the kitchen, North’s shirt still clinging to my skin, stretched across my hips and smelling faintly of cedar and smoke. I feel soft. Open. Like I’ve been peeled back and there’s nothing to hide.

I lean against the counter and close my eyes for a moment.

Breathe.

Savor.

Because for the first time in what feels like years… I feel good.

Not just safe or touched but wanted.

Desired in a way that didn’t feel transactional or twisted. He didn’t just take. He gave every look, every touch, every breath. And the way he watched me, spoke to me, worshipped me with that wicked mouth and that damn piercing…

My cheeks are on fire just remembering.

I had questions, sure. A lot of them. But he answered every one of them with his body. Patient. Unapologetic. Showing me just how good it could feel when someone took their time. When it wasn’t about power or punishment or control, but about want.

About us.

I press my palm to the counter to steady myself, laughter bubbling up in my throat.

Because somehow he, with all his rough edges, his growls and glares and his impossible strength, made me feel soft again.

Like a woman.