Morning Muse

Rhett:

I shifted slowly from darkness to the soft glow of morning.

And for the first time in years, it wasn’t to the gnash of my own teeth or the echo of screams in my head. No blood. No moonlight making adrenaline rip through my veins. No nightmares dragging me through the filth of my past.

Just… silence.

And her.

The weight of her small body curled against me. Her breathing even, steady, the rise and fall so soft I had to hold my own breath to catch it. My arm was still draped around her, hand splayed across her ribs like my wolf refused to let her go, even in sleep.

The scent of her. Fuck.

Sweet, addictive, a mix of wild honey and crushed flowers and something darker I couldn’t name—something that hit my tongue like a drug and coiled low in my gut.

It was the first time I’d slept the whole night through in as long as I could remember. Not a flicker of terror. Not a drop of blood in my dreams. Just nothingness. A blessed, peaceful void.

Because of her.

My Isadora.

The realization hit like a freight train. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t keep this. I had to leave before I ruined it—ruined her.

With every ounce of discipline I had, I peeled my arm away from her, slow, careful, as though she might break if I moved too quickly. So small, so fragile, she wouldn't last if I was around. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, shoved a hand through my hair, and forced myself to stand.

I should’ve kept walking. Out the door. Out of her room. Out of her orbit.

But my wolf stirred.

The low rumble started in my chest, so faint I almost missed it. Then it grew, spreading, clawing. A growl that belonged to something feral and wild, something that didn’t give a fuck about consequences.

She’s ours.

The voice hit me like a whip. My pulse spiked. My body burned.

Touch her. Taste her. Claim her.

I squeezed my eyes shut, digging my nails into my palms until blood slicked my skin. “Not now,” I muttered, low and sharp, like I could command myself into obedience.

But my wolf didn’t obey.

It never did.

My head turned before I could stop it. My gaze landed back on the bed.

On her.

Isadora.

The blanket had slipped, revealing the smooth line of her collarbone, pale in the weak morning light. Her hair was a dark halo across the pillow, lips parted just slightly, chest rising with each delicate breath.

So small. So fucking breakable.

And mine.

The growl split through me again, louder this time. My teeth ached. My hands curled into fists. Heat coiled low in my gut until I swore I’d combust if I didn’t touch her.

I told myself to leave. That I was the danger. That I’d rip her apart if I gave in.

But the moment her scent hit me again, thick and intoxicating, I was lost.

Gone.

By the time I realized what I was doing, I was already moving. Already stalking back to the bed. My knees sank into the mattress, the dip of my weight making her stir.

Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep.

And gods help me, she sweet lips ghosted a smile. Soft. Drowsy. Like she didn’t know she was staring at a monster.

“Rhett…” Her voice was the quietest sound, a whisper dragging claws across my chest, sinking into my heart.

I growled. Couldn’t stop it. My hands bracketed her hips before I knew I’d touched her, dragging her down the bed until she was pinned beneath me.

Her breath caught. But she didn’t push me away. Didn’t fight.

Her trust nearly undid me.

“Fuck,” I rasped, my lips hovering above hers, my control hanging by a single, frayed thread. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Her gaze met mine, wide and steady. “Then show me.”

That was it. The end of me.

The wolf surged, snarling approval, and I let go.

My mouth crashed against hers, desperate, consuming. She gasped, and I swallowed it, devouring her like I’d starved for this moment my whole damn life. My tongue slid against hers, rough and claiming, and she gave it back to me, matching my urgency, her fingers threading into my hair.

I tore at her shirt, lips trailing down her throat, biting, sucking, marking. She arched beneath me, small sounds spilling from her lips—sounds that drove me insane, that made the beast inside me howl in triumph.

Her skin burned under my mouth, each kiss a brand. I worshiped and ruined all at once, my hands sliding beneath her shirt, palms dragging over her soft stomach, up to her breasts. She shivered at the contact, and I groaned against her skin.

“You smell like heaven,” I growled, voice rough, feral. “Sweet gods, Isadora… I can’t stop.”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

That broke the last of my restraint.

I yanked her tiny shorts down, tossing them aside, my body vibrating with the urgency tearing through me. My mouth traveled lower, trailing fire across her stomach, her hips, until I was between her thighs.

The scent of her hit me. Sweet. Raw. Addictive.

My wolf roared in approval.

And then I was gone.

My lips closed around her, tongue sliding through her slick heat, and I nearly lost my fucking mind. She cried out, arching off the bed, her hands tangling in my hair as I devoured her.

Hungry. Desperate. Unrelenting.

Every flick of my tongue, every growl that vibrated against her was a prayer and a curse rolled into one. She writhed beneath me, her soft thighs trembling against my jaw, and I held her tighter, refusing to let her go.

“Rhett—oh gods—” Her voice cracked, broken on my name, and I swear it was the most beautiful fucking sound I’d ever heard.

I licked her like a man starving, like I’d never get another taste. My teeth grazed her, my tongue plunged deeper, and I swallowed every drop of nectar she made like it belonged to me.

Her body bowed, shaking, and then she shattered.

Her release hit me like a storm, her thighs clamping around my head, her cries filling the room as I drank her down. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not until she was trembling, undone, wrecked beneath me.

Only then did I pull back, mouth slick, chest heaving.

I crawled up her body, pressing my forehead to hers, golden eyes burning down at her.

“You’re mine,” I growled, the words torn from somewhere deep, primal, undeniable.

And the way she looked back at me—soft, trusting, already ruined—made me believe it might be true.

Even if it destroyed us both.