The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy

Chapter 26: Their First Time Together

Olivia’s POV

I had bathed early, needing the quiet. The castle always felt too big, too echoing with centuries of history and hidden eyes, but tonight, I wanted only my bed and the comfort of clean sheets.

He smiled—a slow, devastating thing—and walked closer. The scent of cold night air and the deep musk of his skin closed around me like a net.

I swallowed. "I couldn’t sleep."

Then we did it again and again.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to brush his thumb across my cheek. The touch made me shiver, my skin instantly tightening with awareness.

"Easy," Tristan breathed, his voice rough, strained. He paused fully sheathed inside me, the heat of him overwhelming. His thumb brushed the damp hair from my cheek, and he rested his forehead against mine.

With a groan that sounded torn from his soul, he thrust deep and held himself there, his hips locked to mine as he spilled into me, heat spreading low in my belly.

"You feel this?" he whispered, hips nudging deeper. My breath caught. "Every part of me—yours as much as you are mine."

I nodded. My throat was too tight for words.

"Let go," he urged, voice rough silk. His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs, circling in time with his thrusts. "I’ve got you."

"Don’t hide from me," he whispered. "Not tonight."

His thick length stretched me inch by devastating inch, a steady, deliberate claiming that made my head fall back against the pillow. My hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard planes of muscle as a strangled cry tore free.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, brushing his nose along my cheek. "If you’re not ready."

He brushed a thumb over my lower lip and kissed me again, slow and tender.

I forced my eyes open, blinking through the tears that blurred everything but his face.

For a moment, everything stilled—just the ragged sound of our breathing, the thunder of my heartbeat, the faint tremor in his arms where he braced above me.

I looked up, my heart tripping over itself when I saw Tristan step inside. His hair was windswept, his cloak draped over one arm. He was all dark lines and predatory grace, and his eyes...

I’d slipped into a thin ivory nightdress, my hair still damp against my neck. I tried to read, to distract myself, but I was restless. The bond simmered under my skin like a secret flame.

"Look at me."

When release finally broke over us, I clung to him, shaking. Tristan buried his face in my neck and groaned my name—like a vow that would never break.

Tristan’s hand trailed down my neck, resting over the fluttering pulse there. His palm was warm, heavy.

And I did—shattering around him with a cry that echoed off the high stone walls. My body clenched hard, rippling around his length in a desperate, pulsing rhythm that dragged him over the edge with me.

He lowered himself to kiss my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast. His mouth was hot, reverent. Each pass of his lips made me arch helplessly. When he finally closed his mouth around one aching peak, I cried out, my hips lifting.

And when it was over, when the tremors faded and he lay beside me, I felt the mate bond settle fully in my chest—a fierce, irrevocable tether.

And then the door opened.

He pressed deeper, grinding against that secret place inside me, and I gasped, my back arching off the mattress.

I tried to cover myself, suddenly shy, but he caught my wrists and pressed them gently into the mattress above my head.

The pleasure coiled tighter, impossibly bright. My breath hitched, vision going hazy.

His hand framed my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip. His eyes glowed crimson in the dark, pupils blown wide.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice dark velvet.

"That’s it," he whispered against my ear, his voice a low, hungry promise. "Come for me."

"Tristan—"

I forced my eyes open, finding his gaze as he stroked me. The pleasure built in dizzying waves, and I knew in that moment I would never belong to anyone else.

Then he lowered himself fully, gathering me against his chest as though he could fuse us together. He pressed a kiss to my temple, my cheek, my parted lips, his breath shaky.

I had always been his.

When he finally entered me, it was slow—so achingly slow I thought I might come undone before he’d even begun.

And even though I was too overwhelmed to speak, I knew he was right.

When he drew back, our breaths tangled, I could see that same hunger reflected in his eyes.

"You’re mine," he rasped again, more guttural this time, his lips brushing across my jaw. "Say it."

His hands eased my nightdress up, baring my thighs to the cool air. When it cleared my head and slipped off my arms, he paused, eyes sweeping over every inch of my naked skin.

His mouth found mine then, sealing my cries into a kiss that was part worship, part possession. He swallowed every sound, every ragged plea, never breaking the slow, deliberate pace of his hips as he drove me higher.

"Olivia..." His tone broke a little as he leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth. "I’ve waited long enough."

"You’re perfect," he panted. "Made for me."

"You feel it too, don’t you?" he asked quietly, voice husky. "The bond."

Outside, a wolf howled—a long, mournful cry that sent a shiver across my bare arms.

His answering growl rumbled against my chest as he stood, shedding his clothes piece by piece—his shirt, the heavy leather belt, the black trousers. My heart raced as he came back to me, stripped down to hard planes of muscle and the promise of something I’d dreamed of but never dared to have.

"Look at you," he groaned, lips dragging along my throat. "So beautiful when you fall apart."

"You’re mine," he whispered one last time, softer now, reverent.

I shook my head, fingers already tangling in the front of his shirt. "Don’t stop."

A helpless sob slipped from my throat as he drew back a fraction, then sank back in, the friction so sweet it made my vision go white around the edges.

"Neither could I."

"Perfect," he breathed, voice breaking. "You’re perfect, Olivia."

God, those eyes. They glowed faintly crimson as they settled on me in the lamplight.

"Say it," he growled, his control unraveling as he began to move in a slow, relentless rhythm that made my heart trip over itself.

"Mine," he murmured one last time.

I clung to his shoulders, the hard flex of muscle under my palms grounding me. Each movement sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through me, blurring the edges of thought until all that remained was him—his scent, his heat, the low rumble of his voice as he praised me between every thrust.

He kissed me fully then, slow and searching, like he needed to taste every hidden part of me. My lips parted for him, a soft gasp escaping as he deepened it. His tongue slid against mine, and everything in me went hot, spiraling.

"Yes," I gasped, the word dissolving into a whimper when he thrust deeper, pressing my hips down into the mattress. "God—Tristan—yes."

"Tristan..."

"You’re awake," he murmured, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"I’m yours," I cried, tears spilling freely now, unable to hold anything back. Every thrust sent sparks dancing up my spine, gathering low in my belly until I thought I might shatter from it.

He soothed the noise with another kiss, his hand sliding down to cup the heat between my thighs. When he touched me there—firm and sure—my entire body went taut.

And I knew—heart and soul—I was.