Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 59: 59

POV Fenrir Dăneşti

The word—mine—still reverberated in my skull, a primal chant that grew louder, wilder, more alive with every passing second.

It wasn’t just a thought; it was a living thing, clawing its way through my veins, sinking teeth into my soul. I pulled my mouth from hers, the taste of her lips—sweet and coppery with a hint of my own blood—lingering on my tongue as I leaned my head back against the rough bark of the tree trunk.

My chest heaved, breaths ragged and heavy, the air thick with the scent of her arousal and the earthy musk of the forest floor.

She tilted her head, her tongue darting out to lick the blood from my chin and neck, a slow, deliberate swipe that sent a jolt through me. Her lips stayed clear of the mark I’d left on her, though—still raw, still glistening with crimson.

I didn’t want her to heal it.

No, she’d wear it proudly, a jagged badge etched into her flesh for the pack to see, a testament to my possession, my total claim.

It’d keep every damned male at bay, a warning carved in blood that she was mine, now and forever.

My gaze dropped to her hips, and a growl rumbled low in my throat.

I hooked a finger under the waistband of her panties—thin, delicate fabric that stood no chance against me—and yanked hard. The elastic snapped with a sharp twang, the thong tearing apart in my grip, and I tossed the shredded remnants aside without a second thought.

My hand found her core, rubbing against her wet heat, fingers sliding through the slickness of her arousal.

I smeared it across my skin, coating my fingertips, and the scent hit me like a drug—heady, intoxicating, driving me to the edge of reason.

A vein throbbed beside my neck, pulsing with the rush of blood, and my fangs ached in my gums, sharp and eager to sink into her again. She was hot, too delicious, a temptation that shredded what little sanity I had left.

I slid a finger into her tight channel, the ease of it almost undoing me.

Savannah was soaked, her body yielding to me as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for me.

She was ready, primed to be fucked, and the thought sent a surge of heat roaring through me. I thrust my finger deeper, then added another, moving my hand up and down in a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Her walls clenched around me, warm and velvet-soft, and she moaned—loud, unrestrained, the sound spilling into the night like a siren’s call.

Her hands flew to my shoulders, fingers digging in hard, nails biting into my skin with a sting that only fueled the fire in my blood.

“Fenrir…” she croaked, her voice rough and broken, a plea wrapped in my name.

I wanted to savor the moment, to stretch it out and luxuriate in every exquisite second of it. I longed to drink in every fleeting expression that danced across her face—each flutter of her eyelashes, each parted-lip gasp—and to commit the sound of her moans to memory, letting them echo in my mind like a primal melody.

But my wolf, that feral, untamed part of me, clawed at my restraint with a desperation so fierce it bordered on agony.

It yearned to claim her, to mark her as mine in a way that transcended reason or control, its hunger a searing ache deep in my bones.

I slid my fingers out of her slowly, deliberately, and raised them to my lips.

The taste of her lingered on my skin as I sucked them clean, a flavor so intoxicating it unraveled me—sharp and bright like freshly squeezed lemon, yet sweetened with the warm, golden richness of honey.

It coated my palate, igniting my senses, and I couldn’t suppress the low growl that rumbled in my chest, a sound born of both satisfaction and insatiable need.

Stepping back just enough to take her in, I let my gaze roam over her body, settling on the delicate curves of her small, round breasts.

They rose and fell with her quickening breaths, beckoning me closer. I leaned forward, my lips brushing against her skin before I took one of her rosy, swollen nipples into my mouth.

I nibbled gently at first, then with a teasing edge, letting my tongue swirl around it, massaging the tender peak with slow, deliberate strokes.

Her warmth against my lips, the faint salt of her skin—it was a feast I hadn’t known I’d been starving for.

Savannah’s moans shifted, transforming into small, sharp cries that pierced the stillness around us. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension.

The animals nearby—deer, foxes, even the smallest rustling creatures—must have sensed the storm raging within me, the chaos that had erupted the moment I realized Savannah had been marked by another male.

That scent, that faint trace of a rival on her skin, had ignited a wildfire of possessiveness in my wolf, a fury that clashed with the tenderness I felt for her.

Her cold fingers fumbled at the button of my pants, trembling with urgency as she worked it free.

With a swift tug, she yanked the zipper down, shoving the rough denim over my thighs until it pooled at my knees. My black boxers strained against the hard length of my cock, the fabric stretched taut.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to second-guess herself. Her hand slipped inside, cool and tentative, and closed around my shaft with a grip that sent a jolt through my entire body.

I froze, every muscle locking up as I fought to steady myself. A ragged breath escaped me, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight with the effort to hold back the beast clawing at my insides.

Her touch was unlike anything I’d ever experienced with other females—electric, overwhelming, a spark that set off a cascade of sensations I could barely contain.

The mere brush of her cold fingers against my heated skin was a rollercoaster, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, threatening to tip me over into something wild and uncontrollable.

I pressed our foreheads together, the damp heat of her skin melding with mine, her sweat slick against my brow. Our breaths tangled in the narrow space between us, hot and uneven, as I inhaled deeply, drawing her scent into my lungs.

It was earthy and sweet, laced with the musk of arousal, and it flooded my senses like a drug.

"Savannah..." I panted, her name a rough, reverent whisper on my lips, a plea and a promise all at once.

She moved her hand then, stroking me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that unraveled me further. There was a hint of inexperience in her touch—slight hesitations, subtle adjustments—but it only made her more perfect.

It was raw, unpolished, and entirely hers, a reflection of the trust she placed in me.

My fingers tightened around the back of her neck, gripping her with a possessive firmness as I forced her to meet my gaze.

Her blue eyes, usually so clear and piercing, were now clouded with lust, their depths swirling with a hunger that mirrored my own.

"I’m going to fuck you," I warned, my voice low and gravelly, laced with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

There was no turning back, no possibility of resisting what was about to happen. I was at my limit, teetering on the edge of a precipice I’d been fighting to avoid. The last time we’d been this close, I’d barely managed to leash the beast within me, soothing it with gritted teeth and sheer willpower. But now… now it was different. Desire had morphed into something darker, something desperate, a need so primal it consumed every rational thought.

My wolf howled for her, and I was powerless to deny it any longer.

I still didn’t know how to name the storm of emotions that churned within me whenever I thought of her.

I wanted, with every fiber of my being, for it to be hatred, repulsion for what she represented. And for a long time, I deceived myself into believing it was truly that.

But it wasn’t. Whatever this was, it stretched far beyond the neat boundaries of hate, plunging into depths I couldn’t name or comprehend, a wild, untamed force that defied explanation.

Perhaps it was seeing her like this—hurt, vulnerable, her skin marred by the mark of another male—that amplified everything I felt, turning a smoldering ember into a roaring blaze.

Or maybe it was simply the final crack in a dam I’d been struggling to hold together, a collapse that had been teetering on the edge for far too long.

The sight of her wounds, the scent of a rival lingering on her flesh—it had unleashed something primal, something I’d managed to cage until this moment.

But now, standing here with her, I didn’t want to dissect it.

She nodded, a small, quiet gesture of agreement that somehow steadied me.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my voice catching in my throat as I forced the question out.

"Your wolf?" I asked, half-dreading her response, unsure if I could bear the weight of it.

Our beasts were entities unto themselves, wild and willful, governed by instincts that didn’t always align with our own. I’d spent years mastering mine, bending its ferocity to my will.

Savannah, though—she was still so young, her control fragile, her wolf a tempest she couldn’t fully tame. It ruled her more than she ruled it, and I knew it harbored its own feelings toward me.

Her wolf despised me, a grudge rooted in Marilyn’s shadow—a wound I’d inflicted by failing to shield Savannah as a mate should.

The male instinct roared to protect, to stand as an unyielding shield; the female’s yearned to feel that safety, to trust in it.

And yet, as much as I loathed what she’d done in response—ripping away my mark like it meant nothing, shunning my presence, forbidding even the brush of my touch—I understood.

I hated it, but I saw her side, the betrayal she felt.

My beast, though? It didn’t care for reason. It snarled and raged, blind to her pain, consumed only by its own wounded pride.

"She’s happy and purring," Savannah whispered, her voice soft as a breeze, pulling me from the spiral of my thoughts. "I think you’ve earned her forgiveness."

A slow, relieved smile spread across my face, warmth blooming in my chest. I reached out, sliding my thumb along the curve of her soft cheek, the contact grounding me.

Her skin was silk beneath my calloused touch, and I lingered there, caressing her gently.

"And when did I earn your forgiveness?" I asked, my tone lighter but edged with curiosity.

She shrugged, a casual lift of her shoulders that belied the weight of the moment.

"She’s as crazy as you are," she muttered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. My gaze sharpened, tracking the movement with predatory focus, heat coiling low in my belly. "She was satisfied when you killed Bogdan—convinced after today."

Killing that male was just another proof that I had no control when it came to the little wolf. On normal days, I would never have done what I did. If the wolf hadn’t belonged to Vanóia, we would have started a war—something I least needed with Hunter and his cursed hunt for my female.

"Good to know she enjoys a bloodbath," I teased, winking at her, the playful edge in my voice masking the flicker of unease beneath it.

"I think, in the end, she’s as psychotic as your wolf."

A laugh rumbled out of me, deep and unguarded, before I closed the distance between us. I leaned in, capturing her lips with mine, the kiss starting soft but quickly deepening into something hungrier. Our tongues met, sliding against each other in a dance of heat and harmony, tasting the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her breath.

Savannah’s fingers worked with a quiet determination as she tugged my boxers and jeans down the rest of the way, the fabric catching and tangling around my ankles in a haphazard heap.

Freed from its confines, my hard cock sprang forward, pressing insistently against the flat plane of her stomach. A bead of precum glistened at the tip, smearing across her smooth skin in a slick, possessive trail that marked her as mine in the most primal way.

The heat of her body against me sent a shiver racing down my spine, my pulse hammering in my ears.

I blinked, and the world sharpened as the golden hue of my wolf bled into my vision, my eyes glowing with an untamed light. The beast within me surged forward, impatient and ravenous. In one fluid, decisive motion, I turned her around, guiding her down until she knelt among the brittle, dry leaves scattered across the forest floor.

They crunched beneath her weight, the sound sharp in the stillness. I positioned myself behind her, my chest brushing her back as I leaned in close, my lips finding the tender curve of her neck.

I kissed her there, soft at first, then harder, my hand roaming over the swell of her breasts—firm and yielding beneath my touch—before sliding down the taut expanse of her smooth abdomen, mapping every inch of her.

The urge to claim her overwhelmed me, too potent to resist. My teeth grazed her skin, then sank in, marking her a second time that night with a bite that was both punishment and promise.

She gasped, the sound tearing from her throat before melting into a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed through the trees. Her dark hair tumbled forward in a wild cascade, spilling over her shoulders and draping across her breasts, shielding them from the sudden chilly breeze that swept through the clearing, rustling the leaves around us.

Blood welled from the fresh mark, a thin trickle of crimson that slid down her collarbone, staining her pale skin with vivid streaks. The sight of it—her life’s essence against the moonlight—stoked the fire in my veins.

I pulled my teeth free, licking the wound gently, tasting the metallic tang of her blood as she leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands pressed into the earth. Her fingers dug into the dirt, leaves crackling under her palms.

A few meters away, the bodies of the dead males sprawled lifelessly, their mangled forms a testament to the violence I’d unleashed earlier. The air was thick with the coppery scent of their blood, sharp and cloying, mingling with the damp earth and pine. But it didn’t matter—nothing could stop us now. Savannah cast a fleeting glance toward the fallen wolves, and a slow, satisfied smile curved her lips, her eyes glinting with a dark, feral pride. Perfect, that smile seemed to say, and I felt the same savage thrill mirrored in my chest.

I shifted behind her, my knees sinking into the ground as I took myself in hand, guiding my throbbing cock to her tight entrance. The heat of her beckoned me, a promise of oblivion.

I teased her first, rubbing the tip along her slit, spreading the slick wetness that coated her until we were both trembling with anticipation.

Then, with a single, forceful thrust, I buried myself inside her, sheathing my length in her warmth in one relentless motion that stole the breath from my lungs.

We gasped in unison, the sound raw and desperate, hanging heavy in the air.

"Perfect," I growled, my voice rough and guttural, the word torn from me as I drew back only to surge forward again.

I set a punishing rhythm, fucking her with an abandon that bordered on feral, my cock sliding deep into her tight channel, stretching her around me.

Each thrust was a claim, a declaration, the wet heat of her gripping me like she was made for this—for me.

"Fenrir..." she pleaded, her voice breaking on my name, a sweet, ragged sound that drove me harder. Her fists clenched around handfuls of dry leaves, crushing them as she braced against the force of my hips.

With each thrust of my hips, her body jolted forward. I gripped her slim waist, holding her in place as I pounded into her without mercy.