The slow, rolling rhythm shattered. Rein’s control snapped like a cord, his hips driving into her with a new, desperate force. Each deep, brutal thrust was an answer to the flutter in her womb, a physical vow to anchor his essence there forever. Anna screamed, her body convulsing around him not in protest, but in a savage welcome, her cunt clenching as if to milk him deeper into the fertile dark.
He buried his muzzle against her throat, his growl a raw, vibrating thing that she felt in her bones. His claws dug into the mattress on either side of her head, the fabric tearing. There was no more patience, no more reverence—only a primal, driving need to claim, to fill, to breed. The wet slap of their joining filled the room, a relentless counterpoint to her broken cries and his ragged breaths.
Anna’s hands scrambled over the dense fur of his back, her fingers finding no purchase, only heat and power. Her world narrowed to the brutal piston of his cock inside her, the exquisite stretch, the deep ache that bloomed into blinding pleasure with every impact. She was so full, so impossibly full of him, and the new pulse in her core answered each thrust with a clench of its own, a hungry echo.
“Rein—” His name was a gasp, a plea, a prayer.
He understood. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, his rhythm fracturing into something wild and untamed. The bedframe groaned in protest. He lifted his head, his amber eyes glowing down at her, and in them she saw no monster, only her mate, desperate and glorious in his claiming. A final, searing thrust pinned her, and he stilled, buried to the hilt. A low, shuddering roar tore from his chest.
Inside her, he pulsed. Heat flooded her, wave after wave of it, scalding and profound. It triggered her own climax, a silent, shattering convulsion that locked her around him, milking him deeper, accepting every drop. She arched, a silent scream on her lips, her vision whiting out at the edges. The pulse in her womb fluttered wildly, then settled, a quiet ember banked by his fire.
He pulsed one last time inside her, a final, thick surge of heat that made her gasp and clench around him involuntarily. The sensation was less a flood now and more a deep, quiet seep, his essence settling into the very marrow of her being. Rein’s entire body shuddered with the release, a great, trembling exhalation that melted the rigid tension from his muscles. He collapsed against her, his weight a warm, anchoring press, his muzzle still buried in the curve of her neck where his breath came in ragged, hot gusts.
Anna’s hands, which had been clawing at his back, softened. Her palms smoothed over the dense, sweat-damp fur between his shoulder blades. She could feel the frantic hammer of his heart slowing against her own chest, the two rhythms syncing into a single, heavy drumbeat in the quiet room. The air was thick with the smell of them—sex, salt, and that wild, ozone-and-earth scent that was purely him. Her own skin was slick, every nerve ending humming with a spent, glorious sensitivity.
He made a sound against her throat, not a growl but a rough, fractured rumble. It vibrated through her, and she felt the exact moment his claws retracted from the shredded mattress. One heavy hand came up, not to grip, but to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangling gently in her sweat-damp hair. It was a gesture of possession, yes, but also of awe. Of tenderness reclaimed from the brutality.
“Anna.” Her name was a worn-out sigh on his breath, a word shaped by reverence and exhaustion. He didn’t move to withdraw. He remained buried within her, as if letting go of that connection was unthinkable.
She turned her head, her lips finding the coarse fur of his jaw. “I felt it,” she whispered, her voice raw. “The… anchoring.” Her hand slid from his back, down between their bodies, coming to rest low on her own stomach, over his. The skin there was warm, almost feverish. The strange, fluttering pulse had quieted, but in its place was a profound, resonant stillness, a sense of completion so deep it felt geological.
Rein lifted his head just enough to look at her. His amber eyes glowed in the dim light, no longer fierce but deep and liquid. He nudged her hand with his muzzle, then licked a slow, rough stripe over the place where their bodies were still joined. The touch made her shiver, a fresh, delicate ripple of sensation through her oversensitive flesh. He was tasting his claim. Tasting their future. A low, continuous purr started in his chest, vibrating through her core, a soothing counter-rhythm to the quiet aftermath.