Revenge to the Alpha Mate - Chapter 247
Chapter 247: Chapter 247
Jacob’s Perspective
Two years.
Not a lifetime, but not a fleeting moment either. Long enough for the mountain snows to melt and gather twice. Long enough for the moss on the lodge roof to creep a little greener, deeper. Long enough for a girl to truly come into her own.
Celena had changed.
God, she had changed. Not in some dramatic, outward way, but from the inside out. The girl who’d always carried a shadow of trepidation, a slight frown as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, had been slowly reshaped by time and… maybe a little by me, too.
She was livelier. Not in Lily’s roof-raising way, but with a quieter, more grounded vitality. When I returned from patrol, she wouldn’t just be waiting quietly by the door. She might leap out from behind the lodge, smelling of sun and grass, holding up a handful of freshly-picked, dew-covered wild berries, her eyes crinkling. “Guess what I found?”
She’d laugh in the kitchen with Lily and Nate, the sound clear and free, no longer cautious or stifled. She’d learn rough tricks from the twins’ witch partners and tell me about them later, her face flushed.
Her body… damn, yes. It was fuller. Not the slender leanness of a girl, but like a birch tree that had drunk its fill of sun and rain—graceful, strong, every curve hinting at fluid power. A result of slow nourishment from outdoor life and… alright, I admit it, my persistent training sessions with her. Seeing her in simple work pants and an old t-shirt, barefoot in the creek trying to corner a slippery trout or stretching to reach a blanket on the high line—that vibrant, healthy beauty was something I couldn’t look away from. Beautiful. The word felt weak, but I couldn’t find a better one.
And I… I had waited two years.
The wolf in my blood had growled for two years, restless, eager to claim its mate. But I’d held it back. With reason. With patience. By watching every subtle change in Celena. I watched her run with me under the full moon, learning to control the shift. I watched her go from a silent observer in pack matters to someone who offered useful suggestions, even gently mediating the twins’ childish squabbles. I watched her eyes grow clearer, steadier, looking toward the future instead of holding the ghosts of the past.
She was ready. Not just her body. Her soul. I could feel it. The chill of sorrow and fear that once clung to her had been replaced by a warm, solid core.
So, on a night no different from countless others—starry, with the wind sighing through the pines—I watched her. Fresh from a bath, her damp hair over her shoulders, wearing one of my old shirts that swam on her, sitting on the rug by the fireplace drying her hair. The firelight danced on her face, her neck, the delicate line of her collarbone visible in the too-wide neckline.
*Now.*
I didn’t speak. I just walked over and knelt on the rug behind her, one knee down. The motion of her hands with the towel stilled. She didn’t turn, but her body tensed briefly before relaxing completely. She could feel the weight of my gaze, the heat and intent radiating from me.
I gently took the towel from her hands, my fingers sliding into her damp, cool hair. Her breath hitched.
“Celena.” My voice was a rough scrape.
“Mm.” A soft sound, the end of it trembling faintly.
I bent, pressing my lips to the nape of her neck, then to the very center of her collarbone, the spot I’d marked with a kiss two years before. Her skin was warm, smelling of soap and clean water and the faded, familiar scent of me from the shirt.
“Is this okay?” I asked. A final check. Not for the marking itself, but for her complete, conscious will.
She was silent for a few heartbeats. Then she turned her head. Her green eyes in the firelight were like two pieces of gentle, burning jade, looking straight at me. No hesitation. No fear. Just a deep, wellspring of trust and love, and a thread of equally hot anticipation.
She reached up, her hands cradling my face, her fingertips pressing lightly.
“Yes, Jacob,” she said, her voice clear and firm. “I’m ready.”
In that instant, something inside me that had been holding for so long shattered, releasing a pent-up flood. My wolf let out a long, satisfied sigh deep in my soul.
What followed wasn’t brutal, but it was far from gentle. It was the release of two years—longer—of pent-up need. When my canines finally pierced the skin just below her collarbone, a sharp, profound sensation speared through us both. Not pain, but a feeling of being forcibly opened and instantly filled, connected. I let a thread of my essence flow into her. Her head snapped back, her throat a graceful, vulnerable arc, a choked gasp escaping her. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, sharp enough to nearly break the skin.
I could feel her response. Not passive acceptance, but active welcoming and merging. The wolf within her—gentle but resilient—reached out through the fresh bond, tentatively yet eagerly twining with mine. Like a vine finding its tree. Not to bind, but to coexist, to support, to embrace at the deepest level of our souls.
The moment the bond settled, a sense of wholeness I’d never known washed over me. As if I’d lived my whole life missing a piece, and now it locked perfectly into place. Her eyes were shiny, holding not just passion but a settled, belonging peace.
What happened next was inevitable, unstoppable. The primal instinct sparked by the bonding and the tidal wave of love crashed together, sweeping us under. Clothes became obstacles, hastily shed. The firelight cast wild, shifting shadows on our tangled forms. Her response was fiercer than I’d imagined—no longer the hesitant girl from two years ago, but my mate, my other half, meeting me with equal hunger and strength. Sweat, ragged breaths, growls, whimpers, the slide of skin, and the new, utterly intoxicating scent of *us* that filled the air…
That night, we truly became part of each other, soul and body.