Page 92 of Roaring Spell

He bites.

The mark blooms where his teeth break skin.

I feel it happen—feel the claiming complete itself, feel the mate pull finally settle into permanent satisfaction. His mark mirrors mine, storm clouds and bear tracks intertwined.

We belong to each other now. Truly. Completely.

My magic settles.

The power goes quiet. Not diminished—I still feel it, still sense the elements responding to my emotions. But it’s calm. Anchored. Grounded in a way I never knew was possible.

“Oh.” I stare at the ceiling, processing. “That’s... new.”

“What’s new?” Torin is still inside me, still holding me, his breath evening out from exertion.

“My magic. It’s... settled.”

He lifts his head to look at me. “Settled how?”

“Just... calm. For the first time ever.” I laugh—a wet, incredulous sound. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting to control my power, and all I needed was a stubborn bear who writes about wanting to hold my storms?”

“My poetry isn’t that bad.”

“‘Her storms could level cities. I would let them.’“ I trace my fingers over his claiming mark. “That’s extremely earnest.”

“It’s heartfelt.”

“It’s ridiculous.” I kiss his nose. “I love it anyway.”

“I love you.” He rolls us so I’m draped across his chest, our bodies still joined. “I love you and your weather and the way you argue with crystals. I love that you claimed me on a battlefield and bit me before we’d even been on a proper date.”

“We went on stakeouts.”

“Surveillance isn’t dating.”

“There were snacks. You curated snacks based on my preferences.”

“That’s stalking, not romance.”

I laugh again—lighter now, happier than I can remember being in years.

“I love you too.” I prop myself up on his chest. “I love your patience and your coffee deliveries and the way you write poetry you think no one will ever see. I love that you waited for me to be ready, even when it would have been easier to push.”

“I would never push.”

“I know.” I kiss him—slow and sweet, no urgency this time. “That’s why I chose you.”

His arms tighten around me.

Outside, the weather is perfect. Clear skies. Gentle breeze. The kind of calm, beautiful evening that usually only happens in paintings.

“Look at that.” Torin nods toward the window. “No storms.”

“For now.” I snuggle into his chest. “I can’t promise it’ll last.”

“I don’t need it to last.” He kisses the top of my head. “I just need you.”

“You have me.” I close my eyes, letting contentment wash through me. “Forever, if you want.”