The Raven’s Alpha (Nature’s Embrace #1)

Chapter Eight

Eddy Elwood

As Darcy's eyes flutter closed, his body still shudders from lingering tremors. I gently readjust our positions so he’s lying next to me. His skin is flushed with a warm, rosy glow, and a fine sheen of sweat glistens on his skin. The combined effect is undeniably stunning.

While he's always stunning, there's something captivating about Darcy's serene tranquillity in this moment. His face, a picture of calm and relaxation, is a gentle reminder of his vulnerability. The soft hum of his snores is a soothing serenade, a symphony of slumber that fills me with a deep sense of peace.

When our time together was drawing to a close, I noticed a subtle shift in his demeanour. Our bond is still in its early stages, and I can't quite read his thoughts yet. But I could sense the change in his scent - the sugary-sweet aroma of arousal had given way to a faint uncertainty. It was as if he was wondering what I might do next.

When I leaned in, my mouth inches from his neck, It was like he was worried I'd sink my teeth into his skin? The thought of marking him sent a thrill through me, but I knew I had to respect his boundaries. As much as the idea excited me, I would never do it without his explicit consent.

The tension between us was barely noticeable, but I refused to pull us out of the moment. Instead, I pulled back, giving him space to process his emotions. It was a delicate dance, one that required finesse and trust .

When my body begins to cool, I feel the warmth of our passion slowly dissipate. I gaze down at him, his chest rising and falling with gentle snores. I deliberately slow my movements, not wanting to disturb him from his peaceful slumber. I slide off the bed, trying not to jostle him or disrupt the tender intimacy of the moment.

I make my way to the bathroom, the soft glow of the moon through the window casting a gentle ambiance over the room. I take a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me as I begin to clean up the aftermath of our encounter. The water is soothing as I wash away the remnants of our passion, and I feel my body start to relax further.

As I dry off, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and my eyes are drawn to the faint red scratches on my chest. They're a testament to the intensity of our love-making, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at having given myself to him – albeit not fully, but close enough.

As a larger individual, I've learned to navigate my body's sensitivity with care. Despite my size, I've discovered that my pain threshold is surprisingly low, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I craved the gentle roughness Darcy brought to our encounter. His nails scraping against my nipples was a sensation that sparked pleasure, rather than pain. Perhaps it's because I've spent years exploring my own desires, learning what makes me tick, but I've never been one for masochism.

I find myself curious about what Darcy likes in the bedroom, though. His petite omega build belies his toned physique and surprising strength. Does he prefer tender, gentle loving, or does he crave the intensity of rougher play? As I ponder this question, I'm struck by the realisation that I'm not just curious about his preferences – I'm eager to explore and discover what makes him tick, too

One thing is clear: I'm willing to explore whatever he desires. My dedication to his happiness is unwavering, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure he feels seen and loved. Whether he craves gentle whispers or rougher play, I'm committed to being his partner in every sense of the word.

When I hear shuffling coming from the bedroom, I instinctively rush to prepare a comforting presence. I turn the tap on and warm up a soft flannel to bring to my mate. When I return to Darcy, I'm met with a worried expression, his eyes darting anxiously as he sits up in the bed. The air is heavy with the scent of rain, and I can sense the storm brewing within him. He's clearly distressed.

When he catches sight of me, his face lights up with a warm smile, and he stretches out his arms, beckoning me closer. “I thought you'd left me,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of relief and longing, his expression is filled with a deep affection, making my heart skip a beat.

I hasten my pace to the bed, feeling a sense of urgency as I approach Darcy. I sink down beside him, the soft creak of the mattress a gentle accompaniment to the beating of my heart. “No, not at all,” I reply, trying to reassure him with a gentle tone. “I was just getting cleaned up.”

I hold up the warm flannel, its soft folds a comfort against the chill of the air. “May I?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, as I seek permission to offer him some measure of comfort.

Darcy's nod is a silent consent, and he lies back down, his eyes never leaving mine. I gently sweep the cloth across his chest, tenderly wiping away the remnants of our passion. The soft fabric glides over his skin, and I feel his gaze upon me, a sense of intimacy and vulnerability building between us.

Once his front is clean, I ask, my voice low and husky, “Roll over?” The words are barely above a whisper, but they convey a depth of emotion and a desire for connection that I can't quite contain.

He rolls over and comes to rest on his stomach, his thighs sticking to the sheet like a stubborn adhesive. I glance down at the glossy patch on his thighs and know that a wipe with a flannel won't be enough to remove the sticky residue. "How about we get in the bathtub?" I suggest, trying to sound casual, not wanting to risk embarrassing him.

A gentle, self-deprecating smile spreads across his face as he nods his head. "Sure, that would be nice," he says, his voice low and apologetic. "Sorry I made such a mess.”

I place the worn-out flannel on the side of the bed, its softness a contrast to the stickiness it's supposed to clean. Wrapping my arms around Darcy, I pull his body closer to mine, feeling his warmth seep into my skin. Pressing a kiss to his head, I whisper, "Don't ever apologise for something like this. Sex is messy and imperfect, and I love that I was able to make you feel so good.”

As I rise from the bed, I'm tempted to leave Darcy swaddled in the blankets, but he's having none of it. His hands shoot out, seeking mine, and I feel a pang of affection as I slide my fingers into his. My arm wraps around his shoulders, drawing him closer to me as I pull him into the warmth of my body. His shivering form comes to life as we touch, and I feel his tension ease as he leans into me

Darcy sits on the side of the tub, his eyes fixed on me as I flip the faucet handles and watch as the water swirls into a frothy, fragrant mixture of bubbles and warmth. The scent of chamomile wafts up, filling the air with a soothing aroma. I glance up at him, and his eyes wide in surprise as he takes in the sight of the bubbles.

"I didn't expect someone with your rugged build, to have a fondness for bubble baths," he says, raising an eyebrow.

I see the mischievous glint in his eyes, and I'm prepared for the teasing that's about to come. As he speaks, a familiar pang of self-doubt creeps in, and I feel my defences rising. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before responding. "I don't think there's anything wrong with a bit of self-care," I say, trying to sound calm and rational. "I bought this from the market a couple of weeks ago, on a sunny afternoon when I was feeling particularly stressed. If you don't want to use it, that's fine – I'm happy to have it for myself.”

Darcy raises his hands in a playful gesture, his fingers splayed wide as he chuckles, a hint of mirth in his voice, and I can tell he's trying to hide his amusement. "Oh, come on, grizzly bear," he says, his eyes twinkling with humour. "I’m only joking with you. I love bubble baths.”

Darcy's words linger in the air, I feel a surge of embarrassment wash over me. My face grows hot with shame as I look away, feeling like I've overreacted. I can sense Darcy's concern, and I know I need to apologise.

I offer a sheepish smile, my words tumbling out in a rush, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to overreact. I guess I just get a little defensive."

Darcy's expression softens, and he rises from the perch, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. His tone is gentle, but there's a hint of playfulness beneath his words, "None of that, alpha. You're not as hard to read as you think you are. I've been watching you for a while now, and I've noticed your little habits." He pauses, his eyes shining with amusement. "I know that on Friday nights, you like to sit on the sofa with your stitching and watch sappy rom coms. And that every Tuesday, you indulge in a bubble bath, complete with scented candles and a good book." He speaks in a soft, conversational tone, as if sharing a secret. "I'm not here to judge you for that. In fact, I find it rather... endearing."

My thoughts freeze, and my face flames with embarrassment as I stutter out a response. "You've been watching me bathe?" I manage the strangled question, my voice barely above a whisper. Darcy's expression doesn't change, but his eyes glint with amusement, and I feel a flush rise up my neck as I realise how ridiculous I must look. My embarrassment is compounded by the fact that I'm still standing in front of him fully nude, my hair still damp with sweat. I want to sink into the floor .

Darcy's laughter is warm and gentle, and he squeezes me tighter. "Sometimes," he repeats, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazes up at me. His tone is soothing, and I feel a sense of relief wash over me as I realise that he's not mocking me or trying to intimidate me. I take a deep breath, trying to process my emotions, and glance back to him, searching for any sign of malice. But his face is soft and kind, and his grip on me remains gentle.

I raise my shoulders in a hesitant gesture, unsure how to respond. The truth is, I'm not entirely sure if I'm bothered by Darcy's admission. I know that he watches me when I take my evening strolls through the woods, his eyes following me as I make my way through the trees. But I never pieced together that he would be watching me inside my home, where I'm most vulnerable. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel a flutter in my chest as I realise that my private life is not as private as I thought.

“Don’t worry, I gave you privacy for certain things,” he says, his voice low and soothing. He gives me a sly grin, and his eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “I'm not one to deny my curiosity, especially when it comes to you." He raises an eyebrow, a hint of playfulness dancing in his eyes, and I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest as I sense the undercurrent of flirtation. "If you know what I mean," he adds, his voice dripping with innuendo.

"You've been watching me jerk off?" A mixture of shock and embarrassment colouring my words. I snort out a laugh, the sound echoing through the bathroom, I feel a flush rise to my cheeks as I try to process this revelation.

Darcy with his chin resting on my chest, grins at me. His red lips pulled tight as his face flushes with a blush. “Yeah, big guy. I’ve watched you wrap those big hands around your cock as your eyes roll to the back of your head. ”

I should feel embarrassed, violated even, but I don’t and maybe that’s why Darcy wasn’t more freaked out when I came home from work with his panties shoved in my pocket.

I turn off the taps. The bathroom has steamed up, enveloping us in a warm, misty blanket. The scent of mixed berries wafts through the air, rich and fruity. I glance down at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What am I going to do with you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. He looks up at me, his eyes locked on mine, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

I slide into the bath, feeling the rust-red cast iron envelop my back like a warm hug. The water is warm and inviting, and I let out a contented sigh as I settle in. I reach out to help Darcy climb in beside me, his strong hands holding me tightly as he hoists himself in. The clawfoot bathtub is a sturdy, old-fashioned friend, and I'm grateful for its generous size – my bulky frame fits comfortably with my mate by my side. As we settle in, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. This cabin, with its creaky wooden floorboards and rustic charm, has always been a haven for me. And in this moment, surrounded by the soothing sounds of the water and the scent of camomile wafting from the bubbles, I feel grateful for this little slice of paradise.

Darcy's cheek presses against my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin. “What's with all the mixed berries scented stuff in this place?” he asks, his voice low and soft.

I feel a shiver run down my spine as I turn my head to look at him. “Just something that I enjoy,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check and then I laugh because it sounds ridiculous now, I think about it. “I’ve always liked sweet scents – candles, air fresheners, even foods. I love it all.”

Darcy's raises an eyebrow. “Ahh, and that has nothing to do with my natural scent?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. I feel my face heat up as I realise what he's insinuating .

“I remember the first time I caught a whiff of fruit in your scent. It was like a special fragrance made just for me- I couldn't believe it was actually real. And then, when we met in person, it was like everything clicked into place. You were like a puzzle piece I never knew I was missing. At first, I tried to brush it off as coincidence, but deep down I knew it was more than that. You were made for me, and I was made for you.”

We sit in silence, our bodies entwined as we breathe in the quiet together. The warmth of Darcy's skin seeps into mine, calming my nerves and soothing my soul. I've always thought I was content enough with my solitary life, but now I realise that was just a coping mechanism. The truth is, I've longed for someone like Darcy – someone who understands me without words, who can sense my emotions before I speak them. As we sit here, I feel a sense of belonging wash over me, like I've finally found my missing piece. The way his fingers curve around my hand, the gentle pressure of his body against mine... it's all so intimate, so comforting.

I just hope he feels the same way about me.

I pick up the bar of soap and lather up the bubbles, I'm acutely aware of Darcy's tension, the way his muscles are knotted beneath his skin. I begin to wash him, my fingers tracing the contours of his shoulders as I work out the kinks. He groans in relief as I massage his scalp, his hair slick with shampoo. The warm water and gentle strokes seem to melt away his worries, and I feel a sense of calm wash over me as well. As we continue to clean each other, I can't help but notice the way our bodies respond to each other's touch – the subtle tension in my groin, the gentle hardness that threatens to break free. But we ignore it, content for now to simply enjoy each other's company in this quiet, intimate moment.

After we are clean, Darcy settles onto my lap, his warm breath against my chest. I wrap my arms around him, feeling his relaxed body mould against mine. Darcy's eyes lock onto mine, his expression serious. "Can I confess something?" he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

I nod, feeling a sense of trepidation wash over me. "Of course," I say, trying to sound reassuring.

Darcy takes a deep breath before continuing. "I'm a virgin," his voice barely above a whisper.

I feel a jolt of surprise, but as I look into his eyes, I see something there that gives me pause. It isn’t shame or embarrassment – it’s vulnerability. And as I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, I know that I had to be gentle with him.

I feel a lump rise in my throat and my voice is barely above a whisper when I blurt out the words, "Me too.” I'm frozen, waiting for Darcy's reaction.

I'm terrified that he'll see me as a joke, or that he'll think I'm not mature enough to handle the truth. My mind is racing with all the worst-case scenarios as I gaze down at him.

But Darcy's expression doesn't change. He looks at me with a soft, understanding gaze, and my heart skips a beat. It's as if he's seeing me for the first time – not just my flaws and insecurities, but my vulnerability and humanity.

I take a deep breath and let it go, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Maybe this is what I needed – someone who gets it, who understands that sometimes it's okay to be imperfect.

Darcy's eyes shine with curiosity as he asks me why I'm a virgin. I take a deep breath, feeling a flutter in my chest as I consider how to respond. "Would it sound silly if I were to say I was waiting for you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Darcy's expression softens, and he leans in closer. "If you mean specifically me, then yeah maybe," he says, his voice low. "But if you mean that you were waiting for your mate, then no. I actually think it's surprisingly romantic."

I feel a warmth spread through my chest as I look at him. It's as if he's seen into my very soul, and understood the deepest parts of me. I nod, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over me.

"I guess I was waiting for someone who would understand me," I tell him.

Darcy's eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the sincerity in his gaze. "I'm glad I'm that person for you," he says, his voice full of emotion.

"I've been waiting for my fated," I say, my voice quiet, but echoing in the stillness of the bathroom. "I never thought I'd be blessed with a mate, but somehow I feel like I've been given a rare gift." I take a deep breath, feeling a flutter in my chest as I look at Darcy. "I've never wanted anyone else," I continue, my voice trembling slightly. "It's not like I was saving myself for any other particular reason. It's just something I wanted to do."

Darcy's fingers wrap around mine and I feel a jolt of electricity run through my body. His touch is warm and gentle, sending shivers down my spine as he speaks. "Tell me about your family," he says, his voice kind and curious.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "My family's pretty standard," I say, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in my chest. "My mum's an omega, my dad's an alpha... I’ve got a few siblings, and they all live together in a pack land."

Darcy's eyes lock onto mine, his expression soft and curious. "Pack land?" he repeats, his brow furrowing slightly. "What's that like?"

I nod, feeling a sense of comfort wash over me as I talk about my family. "It's... it's nice," I say. "They’ve got a decent sized cabin with plenty of room for everyone. And the forest is right outside their doorstep - they can go hiking and fishing whenever they want."

As I talk about my family, I feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me. I miss them, miss our laughter and our arguments and our cosy nights around the fire. But as I look at Darcy's face, I see something there that makes me feel like I'm home.

Darcy nods as he listens, his expression warm with an encouraging smile. "How come you live here then?" he asks, his voice low and thoughtful.

I take a deep breath, feeling a flutter in my chest as I consider his question. "To be honest," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I left home because I needed to get away from the traditional expectations. My parents wanted me to marry some omega and settle down, but I wanted to see what else was out there."

Darcy's gaze holds mine, "I don’t really know how that feels," he says, his voice soft and gentle. "I've always felt like I'm stuck in this rut, like I'm just going through the motions without any purpose."

As we talk, I feel a sense of connection growing between us. It's like we're sharing a secret, something that only we understand. The air around us seems to vibrate with tension, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Darcy's eyes seem to bore into mine, as if searching for something hidden deep within me. "Do you ever regret leaving?" he asks, his voice low and thoughtful.

I pause, feeling a pang of nostalgia wash over me. "Not really," I whisper. "But I do miss them all, especially my mum's cooking and my dad's bad jokes."

Darcy's gaze holds mine, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know what it's like to want something different," he says, his voice soft and gentle.

I take a deep breath, a sense of vulnerability washing over me. "I had a burning desire to break free from the suffocating expectations of the traditional ways," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "I wanted to forge my own path, to make my own decisions and create my own life. "

Darcy's expression softens, his eyes filled with compassion. "And you did," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "You built a life from scratch, creating something beautiful and unique in this little cabin."

As Darcy's words sink in, I feel a warmth spread through my chest, like a gentle flame that's been lit within me. A sense of belonging washes over me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

Darcy's eyes gleam with pride, his face lighting up with a warm smile that makes my heart skip a beat. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing, and I feel myself melting with its warmth.

I look at him, really look at him, and see the sincerity in his eyes. See the way he believes in me, and it's like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I can breathe again, like I can be myself without fear of judgement.

As we sit there, the air around us seems to vibrate with an unspoken understanding. It's like we're sharing a secret, something that only we understand. And in that moment, I know that I would do anything to make Darcy proud, to be the alpha he needs me to be.

I lean my head forward, our lips almost touching as I whisper the words against his lips, the softness of my breath mingling with his as I thank him for his kind words. The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my heart flutter in response.

As we break apart, I gaze into his eyes, searching for answers. His lips curve upward in a gentle smile as he kisses me back, the softness of his mouth is a comforting presence.

I pull away, my breath catching in my throat as I ask, "What about you? Tell me about your family." The question hangs in the air and I can see Darcy's mind racing as he considers how much to reveal.

Darcy's emotions shift, his scent changing, like a smouldering fire that's about to ignite. A shadow falls across his face, his eyes clouding over like a stormy sky as he looks down at the water surrounding us.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want to," I tell him.

He shakes his head, "No, it's fine," he says, his voice quiet and filled with emotion. "I'd have to tell you about it eventually."

Darcy's gaze lifts, his eyes searching mine as he begins to tell me his story. "I don't know my birth family," he says, his voice cracking like a twig underfoot. "But a nice shifter family took me in when I was still a chick. I was kind of malnourished and they nursed me back to health..."

As he speaks, I can feel the weight of his words settling around me like a shroud. His story is like a fragile eggshell, one wrong move and it could shatter into a million pieces. But I'm drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, and I know that I need to be there for him as he tells his story.

Darcy's words paint a vivid picture in my mind as he continues to tell me about his adoptive family. The smoky scent still lingers in the air, but it's no longer a heavy fog - it's now a warm, golden glow that illuminates Darcy's face. His lips curve upward in a radiant smile, the warmth of it spreading across his face like a sunrise.

I can almost hear the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs as Darcy tells me about him and his brother Jackson tearing through the woods in their shifted forms. I can feel the wind whipping through their feathers, ruffling their plumage as they chase each other through the trees.

"Jackson was always faster than me," Darcy says, his voice tinged with laughter. "But I never gave up. I'd catch up to him and we'd tumble to the ground, feathers and fur flying everywhere."

The image is so vivid that I can almost see it playing out before me. The wind whispers secrets through the trees, and I can smell the earthy scent of the forest floor. It's as if I'm right there with them, feeling the rush of adrenaline as they play.

As Darcy finishes his story, his eyes sparkle with joy, and I can feel my heart swell with affection for him. I know that I'm drawn to him not just because of his rugged good looks or his quick wit - but because of his kind heart and his deep love for his family.

"It was a couple of days after my eighteenth birthday," Darcy says, his eyes gazing off into the distance as he recalls the memory. "My family loved the Christmas markets in the village and would go pretty much every day while the celebrations were on. They loved the festive treats and all the decorations. I wish I had gone with them, but I had this habit of going out on my own on Sundays."

He pauses, his gaze drifting back to me as if searching for understanding. "I used to spend hours just flying through the sky," he continues, his voice low and emotional. "As I soared through the clouds, the wind beneath my wings, and the sun on my feathers, I felt free and alive. It was like a ritual, a sacred act of self-care, where I'd lose myself in the rush of the wind and the thrill of flight."

I can almost see him taking to the skies, his wings beating steadily as he glides effortlessly on the breeze, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of adventure. I can feel the rush of excitement in his words, and my heart swells with empathy for this lonely bird who's found solace in flight.

"Darcy," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. Self-care is important." I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as I offer words of understanding. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, we're lost in each other's gaze.

Darcy's smile falters as he continues his story, his eyes clouding over with a mixture of sadness and regret. “So yeah, I told my family I was going to stay at home and take a little trip around the grounds, just to clear my head. Mum nodded, her eyes worried, and Dad said, ‘ Be careful, son. We'll be back by tea time’. But they never made it back.'"

I can almost see him sitting in the living room, the clock ticking away in the silence. The sun had set hours ago, casting long shadows across the room. He paces back and forth across the floor, his eyes scanning the shadows as if searching for some sign of his family's return.

"The mansion perched on the hilltop had been my home for as long as I could remember," Darcy says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s magnificence and beauty are tempered by the comfort and warmth of the family who lived within its walls. But even though it was only the four of us, the place never felt empty or lonely."

I can feel his pain and sorrow washing over me like a wave. I can imagine him sitting on the sofa, waiting for his family to return, waiting for something to happen.

"I woke up to a knock on the door," Darcy says, his voice cracking with emotion. "And there were two police officers standing there, their faces sombre and serious. They told me that Dad had skidded on some black ice and...and they were dead."

The words hang in the air, a reminder that sometimes life can be cruel and unfair. Darcy's eyes are a deep shade of brown, rimmed with red and brimming with unshed tears as he recounts his story. His voice is steady, but I can see the pain and grief writ large on his face. I feel a lump form in my throat as I reach out to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

I pull him close, feeling the warmth of his body and the softness of his skin. I lean in close, my breath whispering against his ear as I speak. "Thank you for telling me your story, Darcy," I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. You were so young, and it was so unfair."

Darcy's body trembles against mine, and I can feel his heart pounding beneath my chest. I hold him tighter, trying to offer what little comfort I can. The silence between us is heavy with emotion, and I can feel the weight of our shared sorrow bearing down on us like a physical force.

As we sit there, the bath water's warmth slowly seeps away, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on our skin. The water's edge laps at our skin, and I can feel the soft tickle of the bath's cooling mist as we sit there in silence.

After a few minutes, I gently nudge him forward. "How about we get out of here and I'll make us something to eat?" I suggest, trying to break the spell that's settled over us.

Darcy nods slowly, his eyes still gazing off into the distance. "Yeah," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "That sounds good."

I help him out of the bath, and we wrap ourselves in towels, the warmth enveloping us like a gentle hug. As we walk out of the bathroom, I can feel his eyes on me, searching for something - maybe comfort, maybe reassurance - and I know that I'll do everything in my power to give it to him.

We settle in for the night, the savoury aroma of slow-cooked beef and tender vegetables wafts through the air, mingling with the buttery scent of freshly baked bread. The fire crackles softly in the background, its warm glow illuminating our faces as we snuggle in together on the sofa. Our bodies curve together, our legs tangled as we share a warm blanket, our fingers intertwined as we lay spooning in perfect harmony.

As I watch the credits roll on our movie, I can feel Darcy's chest rise and fall against mine, his snores a gentle lullaby that soothes my soul. The embers glow like tiny red eyes, casting a warm, golden light over his face as we bask in the warmth. I close my eyes, feeling his warmth seep into my skin, and let out a contented sigh as I wrap my arms around him tighter.

The silence is comfortable, filled with the knowledge that we're exactly where we're meant to be. I hold my fated mate close to my chest, feeling a sense of peace and belonging.