Hermione was tired of waiting. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. She wasn't plain, but she wasn't a great beauty. No veela perfection for her. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to smash the mirror. It wasn't the mirror's fault that her mate didn't want her.
Fleur was still there. She was still in his head and in his heart. It was obvious.
Her mate had managed to have a relationship with another woman. He'd loved Fleur enough to overcome the revulsion of another's touch. Loved his wife enough to give her children.
Hermione groaned. She should have known. The wolf in him might be drawn to her, but the man wasn't. Three children. Years of intimacy. She blinked at the rush of tears pricking at her eyes. He'd been loving Fleur while she got sick when any man so much as looked at her.
She'd spent years of her life doing the wrong thing for the right reason. She'd wanted him to have his family. She had given him his choice. She'd thought it was the right thing to do.
She bit into her lower lip. Maybe it had been. Leaving her mate had been the hardest thing she'd ever done until she came back. Maybe she should have stayed away.
She'd come back with hope. She'd nurtured it. She hadn't broken his marriage, so she couldn't be blamed. She hadn't done a bloody thing wrong, but he was still hiding her. He was still pushing her away.
She was damn tired of it.
Fleur would always be the one for Bill.
Hermione slumped against the dresser and pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the mirror. She wanted to howl. She wanted to bite and claw and tear, but there was nothing to rip apart. There was no way to rip up what was already gone, no way to exorcise a living ghost.
She felt him enter through the wards and grimaced. Another lunch. Another step in his useless courtship ritual. She growled.
She was his. He didn't need to bloody woo her. She'd never have his heart. Pain ripped through her. She clenched her fists and pressed them in against her belly. He didn't have to love her. He could just be with her because she was what he had left, and she could pretend. She was good at that.
She turned away from the mirror and stumbled over the edge of the carpet. She fell to her knees, and the sobs broke free. Wrenching, horrible sounds filled the room. She rocked back on her legs and wrapped her arms tightly around her body. He would be in the house soon. She tried to stop, but the pain wouldn't go back in the box.
She flinched as she imagined leaving this house to go live in Shell Cottage. He'd moved the children back in there despite the fact that this house was better suited to a large family. The little cottage by the sea. Fleur's house.
She could hear him now. His feet were moving up the steps to the main door. He knew she was crying. He knew, and she was done hiding it. What was the point? She curled in on her body and settled on the floor.
She heard each step. He was running up the stairs. Duty bound to see to his mate. He opened the door and was beside her before she'd focused her eyes.
"What's wrong?" He was checking her for wounds. "What happened?"
"Nothing." She pushed up and away from him. "Ignore it."
He watched her as she backed away from him. She wiped at her cheeks and tried to smile. He took a step toward her. His eyes were still examining her, still looking for an injury.
"I'm fine." She held up her hands and he stopped.
"You're lying." Bill closed the distance between them in one long stride. "You are not fine. Tell me what's wrong."
"Will that fix it?" Hermione flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "Do I have to be so pathetic? Do I have to beg you to kiss it better?"
Something flared in his eyes. She caught the quick shift. He was probably trying to figure out the best path for a quick retreat.
"You want me to kiss you?" Bill's voice had gone syrupy. He ran his long fingers along her side. "You want my touch?"
She blinked. Why did he sound so unsure? She stepped back and felt the bed press into the back of her legs. He closed the distance between them again. His hands cupped her hips. She could feel the heat of him through her jeans.
"I've been trying to be good." His lips were suddenly next to her ear. "I didn't want to rush you or make you feel used. If you don't want this, you have to tell me now."
His voice was a seduction of its own. She flattened her palms on the flat planes of his chest and looked up at him.
"You want me?" She hated the odd quaver in her voice. "This isn't something we can go back from, not this time."
"I wish we hadn't then. I let obligations sway me." He slid his hands up to her waist. She could feel his thumbs resting directly on the flesh of her abdomen. "I chose the wrong ones. I handled it wrong. I've spent years pretending. I'm done."
She dropped her head against his chest and felt the blooming heat of his body. She dragged in his scent with every breath. Old books, leather, and something earthy mixed into that particular scent that was his alone.
"You're done?" She managed to drag her head up and look into his eyes again.
"I'm done pretending I want to be anywhere but next to you." He bent down and pushed her hair back with his nose. He licked along the shell of her ear before he nipped the lobe. "I want to be here."
She shivered and pressed her body into his.
"I want to be with you." He slid his hands down to her legs and lifted her up. "I want to be in you."
Hermione jumped into his arms, wrapped her legs around his hips, and twisted her torso sending them tumbling onto the bed. She grinned and pressed his shoulders down into the bedding. He grabbed her hips and flipped them with easy grace.
"We are not in a hurry. I want this to be good for you." He nuzzled into her neck and kissed the scars he'd created.
His fingers were pushing and pulling at her clothing. She could tell that buttons had been slipped from their holes and she didn't give a good damn. Every bit of skin he bared received some sort of attention. Stroking fingers, scraping nails, nipping teeth, and soothing tongue pushed her to the edge of sanity.
She heard her own whimpers and moans, but she couldn't remember making the sounds. She couldn't focus her mind enough to form words.
His warm hand settled over her womb. He pressed his hand in slightly. She felt the heat of his magic slide into her body. He was calling his power as he held her. She could feel it thrum through her and let her own go.
She shuddered as their magic fused. Their physical bodies stilled as their magic writhed and then wrapped around them. She could feel it move along her skin as his hands had moments before. It licked at her like fire and then soothed the burn away. Bill moaned and pulled her closer to his body. She could feel his muscles contracting and a low rumbling growl vibrated out of his chest. She could almost imagine what the change would be like. She took a deep breath and let herself experience the joy of giving over to the wolf.
"I want to do this right." Bill muttered against her ear.
Hermione twisted free from his hold and flipped him onto his back. His shirt was on the floor. She traced her fingers along his shoulders. A light dusting of freckles decorated his shoulders. She slid her fingers from one to the next, mapping his constellations for her own star charts. Bill dragged in a breath. His eyes were edged with amber. She stroked her hand down his chest and smiled as he arched into her touch.
"I am yours, Hermione." He grabbed her hand and dragged it up to press it over his heart. "I want you."
"I won't share you." Hermione blinked and glanced away from his eyes. "If any part of you isn't sure, we need to stop."
"I'm sure. There's only you." He cupped her chin and stroked his fingers along her jaw. "I want to wear your mark. I want to marry you and make a life with you."
"Here. In this house." Hermione took a deep breath. "Our home."
"It's perfect." He let his hand drop and pulled her across him to sprawl over his chest. "I want our life to begin."
His hair had come free of its tie and fanned across her pillows. She curled the strands around her hand and pulled his head to the side slowly. She watched his neck bend and his pulse race just under the skin. The memory of his teeth sinking into her flesh came to the fore. He'd changed her in that moment. He'd altered the courses of their lives, corrected them. She licked down from just behind his ear to the place where his neck joined his body. He tensed underneath her. His body went rigid. Each breath was a battle. She kissed the spot where her mark would rest and felt him shiver.
"Please." He tried to arch his neck toward her.
She took a deep breath and bit. Her teeth sank through his skin. She felt the warmth of his blood in her mouth before the taste of it hit her. He shuddered, and she growled. He needed to submit. He needed to surrender. He needed to accept her. He relaxed. She felt him struggle against the pain. Her jaw locked down. Waiting for him to accept her was difficult, but she had to wait for him. He took a deep breath and went limp beneath her. Their bond that had always pulled at her suddenly offered her something. She could feel the warmth of it.
"I love you." He stroked her hair with one hand. "I always will."
She released his flesh and laved at the marks she'd made. Her tongue caught drops of his blood, but she felt no shame. This was her mate. He moaned and pulled her body closer. She pressed her cheek to his. This was bliss. She felt the connection settle, felt it solidify.
"I love you, too." Hermione pressed a kiss against his jaw. "My mate."
He erupted beneath her and flipped them over once more. She giggled as he ripped at the last of his clothing. He growled at her, and she nipped his chin. He grinned triumphantly and pressed his bare skin against hers.
She reveled in his touch and in her freedom to touch him. His hands slid along her legs, pressing them apart. She bit her lower lip. He pulled her lip free with a gentle kiss.
Soft lips pressed against hers as he settled between her legs. She'd never been more aware of her petite form. She buried her fingers in his hair and whimpered. His lips covered her face in tiny kisses.
She could feel him against her, feel every part of him against her. It wasn't a dream. She raised her hips in invitation.
He slid home and rested his forehead against hers. His scent, his aura, all of him, all that formed him enveloped her. Each languorous stroke pulled at her, and she surrendered into shuddering release. There was no screaming. This coupling wasn't marked by the violence of their first one. This was an act of love. He never stopped pushing her and pulling her and taking her higher. He never stopped.
"Goddess." He breathed into her mouth as she gasped for air. He stole her breath with the warm slide of his tongue on hers.
"Please." She wasn't sure if she was begging him for more or begging him to join her. Her body quivered and ached, and he pressed her toward another peak.
"Mine." He set his lips to her mark.
"I always have been." She dragged her nails down his back. "I always will be."
Her words freed him from his rigid control. They moved together. Fiercely. Clawing. Scraping. Screaming.
She rolled her hips up to greet each thrust. He pushed up onto his hands and stared down at her. The light from the window set his sweat to glistening and highlighted his straining muscles. His hair trailed down over his shoulder and teased along her breasts.
Hermione thrashed and clawed into the sheets as his tempo quickened. Her body ached even as she reached toward the pinnacle again. She whimpered and saw a glimmer of triumph and a flash of amber in his gaze.
He threw his head back and roared his completion as she fell into bliss again. He was a beast and a man. Both of them were hers.
