Chapter 6

• My mind is still reeling, the electric aftershocks of his kiss humming under my skin as Ryder gently grips my waist, steering me away from the dying bonfire. He doesn't ask if I want a ride. He just takes my hand—his large, warm palm completely swallowing mine—and leads me around the side of the house toward the curb.
• Parked beneath the heavy shadows of a sprawling oak tree sits a matte-black motorcycle, sleek, customized, and lethal.
• "Climb on," he says, his voice a low, gravelly command that makes my pulse hitch. He hands me a dark helmet, his dark eyes tracking every breath I take as I strap it beneath my chin. "Hold on tight, little wolf. I don't drive slow."
• I throw my leg over the leather seat behind him and wrap my arms tightly around his waist, pressing my chest flat against his solid back. The moment he kicks the engine to life, the deep, guttural roar vibrates straight through my thighs, sending a wicked shiver straight down my spine. The ride back to campus is a blur of biting night air, flashing streetlights, and the intoxicating scent of pine and cedar rolling off his neck.
• When he cuts the engine outside my dorm building, the quiet courtyard is completely deserted. The sudden silence between us is heavy, suffocating, and dripping with raw tension. I slide off the bike, handing him the helmet, but my legs feel a little like jelly.
• "I should probably go up before Chloe files a missing persons report," I murmur, though my boots remain firmly rooted to the pavement.
• Ryder swings off the bike in one fluid, predatory motion. Before I can take a full breath, he closes the distance, backing me up until my shoulders hit the cool brick wall in the shadowy alcove beside the glass doors.
• "Let her file it," he growls softly, hovering over me, his broad shoulders effectively blocking out the rest of the world. "I'm nowhere near done with you tonight."
• His hands slide into my hair, cupping the back of my head as his mouth comes crashing down on mine again. If the kiss at the bonfire was a spark, this one is an absolute wildfire.
• I groan into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling him as close as humanly possible. Ryder parts my lips with a possessive bite, his tongue slanting deep against mine, claiming me until I’m breathless and spinning. He shifts his weight, sliding one heavy, muscular thigh between mine, pressing his body flush against my trembling frame.
• A needy whimper slips from my throat, and Ryder lets out a low, feral rumble that vibrates against my ribs. His mouth trails down my jawline, burying his lips in the sensitive, feverish crook of my neck, nipping gently right over my pulse point—the exact spot where a mate mark would go.
• "Mine," he rasps against my skin, his hot breath sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across my arms. "Say it, Haven."
• "Yours," I whisper, my fingers tangling tightly into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, completely surrendering to the intoxicating pull. "Fuck... Ryder, yours."
• The word had barely left my lips before a low, triumph-laced growl echoed from deep in Ryder’s chest. The sound was purely feral, vibrating straight into my bones as his fingers tightened on my hips, crushing me flush against his hard frame until there wasn't a single whisper of air left between us.
• He claimed my mouth one last time—a deep, brutal, possessive kiss that stole whatever oxygen I had left in my lungs and replaced it entirely with him. When he finally dragged his lips from mine, leaving my mouth swollen and stinging, his eyes were blazing with a dark, triumphant satisfaction.
• "That’s what I thought," he rumbled, his voice rough as velvet. "Good girl."
• I let out a breathless, raspy scoff, glaring up at him through heavy eyelids even as my weak knees threatened to give out. "Don't 'good girl' me, Black. I'm not a fucking golden retriever."
• A wicked, slow-burning smirk stretched across his sharp face. "Could've fooled me with the way you were purring into my throat a second ago, little wolf." Before I could smack his solid chest, he slid his heavy hand down my arm and plucked my phone straight out of my back pocket.
• "Hey!" I protested weakly.
• He ignored me, tapping effortlessly on the screen with his long fingers. He typed in his contact, saved it, and then pressed the cool glass back into my palm, wrapping my fingers around it and squeezing gently.
• "My number’s in there," Ryder said, his thumb tracing a fiery path over my knuckles. "Call me the second you get up to your room. And if my pristine idiot of a brother gives you a hard time in art history tomorrow, you text me immediately. Got it?"
• "I can handle Dante," I muttered, though the thought of facing Professor Black tomorrow after making out with his dangerous younger brother sent a nervous flutter straight to my stomach.
• "I know you can," Ryder murmured, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss right to the corner of my jaw. "But you're mine now, Haven. You don't have to fight your battles alone anymore."
• He stepped back reluctantly, his towering shadow uncoiling from over me. The sudden loss of his body heat made the autumn air feel twice as cold. He backed away toward his motorcycle, his dark eyes never breaking contact with mine until he swung his long leg over the leather seat.
• "Goodnight, Haven," he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet courtyard as the engine roared to life with a guttural, earth-shaking rumble.
• "Goodnight, Ryder," I whispered into the chill air.
• I watched his red taillight disappear into the dark night, my chest heaving, holding my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My skin was still burning where his hands had been, and his heavy pine-and-frost scent lingered on my sweater like a brand. I was completely, utterly fucked—and I had never felt more alive.