Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 479

Chapter 479: Ava: Against the Door (II)
My whole body’s strung tight, tension curling deep with every grind of his hips, every touch of his fingers.

But it doesn’t change what I feel.

Even breathless and desperate for more, I can’t give him what he’s asking for.

“I can’t,” I whisper, the words pulled out of me over the top of soft moans. “I won’t.”

He doesn’t stop, but he shifts. Slows. Half-control, half-warning.

“You think I don’t understand?” His voice drops low. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to carry that weight? To want to protect what’s yours, even if it means bleeding for it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus—on his words, not the ache building in my core, and the desperate need to grind against him. “Then you should understand why I have to go.”

“What I understand,” he says, punctuating each word with a deep, deliberate thrust, “is that you’re my mate. My priority. My fucking heart walking around outside my chest.”

God. Every word he speaks cuts sharper than his teeth ever could.

The bond between us tugs hard—tight enough it feels like it might snap. Not just lust. Not dominance. Just… love, so big it makes my ribs hurt.

“And you’re mine,” I breathe. “Which is why I can’t just stand here while you walk into danger.”

His grip tightens around my wrists for a second—then releases. I catch myself with a hand against the door, breath shallow, legs shaking. The second he let go, my core muscles gave up the fight, and so did my thighs.

Are thighs part of your core?

Note to self: Train more. Stamina for long walks through deep snow isn’t the same as holding myself up during moments like this.

He steadies me. His big hands are firm on my hips, anchoring me as he pulls out slow and deliberate, the sudden emptiness making me whimper.

“Lucas—”

He doesn’t answer. Just turns me, lifting me like I weigh nothing and pinning me back against the door. His gaze crashes into mine, gold and furious and full of everything he’s still trying to say.

Damn it, he’s getting to me.

“Look at me,” he says. It’s a command, but I’m already looking.

I see it all.

The fear under his fury. The way he’s breaking in quiet pieces I can’t always see. How hard it is for him to love me like this—knowing it means he could lose everything.

“The night you were bleeding out, the night I rescued you,” he says, voice scraped down and weary, “I thought I’d already lost you.”

“I remember,” I whisper. My throat burns. I reach up and trace the edge of his jaw, rough beneath my fingers. He hasn’t shaved today. “I know.”

I’ll never forget how beautiful the moon was that night.

He leans in, resting his forehead against mine. His breath is ragged.

“I can’t go through that again, Ava. I can’t fucking do it. I’d burn this place down. I’d raze the whole world just to stop that from happening again.”

This isn’t about pride. It never was.

“But I can help,” I say softly, but firm. “I’m not some fragile girl hoping she makes it out alive anymore. I’ve trained. I’ve learned. I’m ready.”

His hands slide lower, grip tightening under my thighs as he lifts me again. “No,” he agrees, lining us up. “You’re not fragile anymore.”

He sinks back inside me—slow, measured, deep—and my head falls back with a gasp. The angle this way is brutal. Intimate. Every inch of him hits just right. My skin tingles. Shivers.

“And that’s why I can’t lose you,” he murmurs against my skin.

I lock my legs tighter around him, holding him to me. My hips roll and buck, trying desperately to draw him in deeper. “You won’t,” I whisper. “But you can’t lock me up either. Not even to protect me.”

His rhythm stutters—then picks up again, a little faster now.

“I’m your Luna,” I murmur into his shoulder. “Your equal.”

A low growl builds in his chest. He holds me tighter, drives up into me harder. It’s impossible to speak in anything more than short gasps.

My head spins. Warmth spreads through my body, rushing up my spine and into my head.

“Mine,” Lucas snarls. “My Luna. My mate. My equal.”

I wind my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

“I go where you go, Lucas. I fight where you fight.”

His mouth crashes into mine—fast, hard, like he’s trying to stop the world from spinning. When he pulls back, his voice is rough, but something in him has shifted.

“We’ll talk,” he says, breath hot against my jaw. “But not until after.”

It’s not surrender. Not really. But it’s not a flat no, either.

His mouth drops to my neck, lips brushing the scar just beneath my mate mark. His hot breath makes me shiver. “When we’re done,” he says, voice low and ragged, “everyone will know you’re mine.”

I clench around him, the orgasm climbing fast now, unstoppable.

“They already know,” I whisper, tugging his mouth back to mine.

The door rattles under the force of his thrusts. I’m definitely going to be bruised later.

Worth it.

“Tell me again,” Lucas growls against my mouth. “Tell me what you need.”

I choke on a moan as he drives deep. “To protect my people. To stand beside you. To fight.”

“And what do I need?” he asks, his voice harsher now, closer to breaking.

I cradle his face between my hands, eyes locked on his.

“Me,” I say. “Not hidden. Not locked away. Me, standing beside you.”

His face crumples, just for a second. Then he’s moving harder, faster, chasing the edge with me already halfway there.

“I love you,” he groans against my neck.

That’s what pushes me over—his voice, his body, our bond. I come hard, legs tightening, nails digging into his shoulders as everything breaks apart around me.

He follows with a growl, his body locking down, hips jerking as he spills into me. And for a long moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe, still wrapped around each other, the rest of the world falling quiet.

When he finally lowers me, I stagger. My legs don’t work right.

His arm wraps around my waist, steadying me as he sighs. “We’re not done talking about this.”

I look up at him, shoving sweaty strands of hair from my face. “I think we are, though.”

He grunts.

But he doesn’t say anything else.