Chapter Twenty-Three - Coffee and Confrontations
That night, she learned what it was to be cherished without restraint.
She curled in his massive arms, his beard scratching her cheek as he pressed her tight to his chest. His warmth enveloped her, his wolf’s purr vibrating through their bond until Sage sighed in pure contentment. She had not known how much she craved being held—truly held—until Osiris made it a ritual.
“You’re small enough I could crush you,” he teased on their second night, his hand easily spanning her waist. “And yet you hold me tighter than the forest roots.”
She laughed softly, tracing his tattoos with her fingers. “You’re not so unmovable yourself.”
He kissed her hair, murmuring, “Not where you’re concerned.”
*
The scent of roasted beans curled through the Alpha
