Chapter 34 Hunter and Tara

Claiming What's His

Hunter pov

The evening settled over Silverstone territory with unusual quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that had become rare since the new threats emerged. I stood on the balcony of my private quarters, watching the last traces of sunset fade into deep purple twilight while my mind worked through the implications of Celeste Ravencroft's letter

Behind me, I could hear Tara moving around my room with the comfortable familiarity of someone who belonged there completely. She'd been staying with me more often lately, our need for closeness intensified by the constant external pressures and the approaching wedding that had become as much military operation as celebration.

"The security team finished their preliminary investigation," Tara said, joining me on the balcony with two cups of tea. "Celeste Ravencroft exists. She is who she claims to be, and her father's pack does have historical ties to Silverstone."

I accepted the tea gratefully, noting the careful way Tara had phrased her report. "But?"

"But her timing is still suspicious. Her letter was written with the kind of precision that suggests multiple drafts, and there's something about the whole situation that feels orchestrated." Tara leaned against the balcony railing beside me. "Also, Marcus Cole pulled some strings and found out she's been asking questions about you for months. Long before your story became public knowledge."

"What kind of questions?"

"Personal preferences, daily routines, leadership style. The kind of detailed intelligence gathering that goes beyond casual romantic interest." Tara's voice carried a note of irritation that I found oddly reassuring. "She's either the most thorough stalker in supernatural history, or she's working for someone who wants very specific information about you."

I set down my tea and turned to study Tara's profile in the fading light. Despite the serious nature of our conversation, despite the threats closing in around us, she looked beautiful and strong and completely unshakeable.

"Are you worried?" I asked quietly.

"About Miss Ravencroft?" Tara turned to meet my gaze, her green eyes holding steady confidence. "Not even slightly. She can send all the love letters she wants—I know where you'll be sleeping tonight."

The certainty in her voice, the complete absence of doubt or insecurity, hit me with a force that took my breath away and made my cock harden. This was the woman who had rebuilt herself from the ashes of my rejection, who had learned to value herself independently of anyone else's approval, who now stood beside me as an equal partner in everything that mattered.

"Come here," I said softly, setting down my own cup and reaching for her.

Tara moved into my arms without hesitation, her body fitting against mine with the perfect synchronization we had developed through choice and practice. When I kissed her, it was with a hungry intensity of someone claiming what belonged to me, marking territory that no outsider would ever be allowed to breach.

"Hunter," Tara whispered against my lips, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with equal fervor.

We moved inside without breaking contact, hands exploring familiar territory with renewed urgency. The letter from Celeste Ravencroft had awakened something primitive and possessive in me—not jealousy or insecurity, but the deep need to reaffirm my connection with the woman who had chosen me completely.

"I love you," I murmured against Tara's throat as my hands worked to remove the barriers between us. "Only you. Always you."

"I know," she replied, her voice breathless as she helped me shed my clothes with eager efficiency. "Show me."

My cock was so hard it hurt as she fisted me and pumped my shaft. Precum leaked out. I lifted her into my arms and carried her to our bed.

What followed was both tender and fierce, a physical expression of everything We had fought to build together. I worshipped Tara's body with reverent touches, memorizing every curve and hollow as if I might need to recall them from memory. She responded with the uninhibited passion of someone who felt completely safe, completely claimed, completely loved. I trusted in carefully and moaned at the tight, wet heat. She felt so damn good I almost came to soon.

We moved together with the synchronized rhythm of two people who had learned each other's desires through patience and exploration, who understood that physical intimacy was both a celebration of our connection and a reaffirmation of our choice to belong to each other. I kissed her neck and decided to mark her and fully claim my mate. Her cry of pleasure filled the room as I bit into my marking spot as her pushy squeezed my cock hard.

When climax finally claimed us both, it was with the intensity of a thunderstorm—overwhelming, powerful, and utterly consuming. We collapsed together in a tangle of satisfied limbs, breathing hard and holding each other close as the world slowly came back into focus around us.

"Well," Tara said eventually, her voice carrying satisfied exhaustion, "I think we can safely say that Miss Ravencroft's letter had the opposite of its intended effect."

I laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head where it rested on my chest. "If the intended effect was to drive me into another woman's arms, then yes. Complete failure."

"Good," Tara replied with sleepy contentment. "Because I really didn't want to have to challenge her to single combat for your affections."

"You would have won," I said with absolute confidence.

"Obviously. But it would have been inconvenient timing with the wedding so close."

We settled into comfortable silence, limbs intertwined and hearts beating in steady synchronization. Outside our windows, Silverstone territory continued its evening routines under the watchful eyes of security patrols, but inside our private sanctuary, there was only peace and satisfaction and the knowledge that some connections were too strong to be threatened by outside interference.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their post-coital contentment, followed by Marcus Cole's carefully neutral voice.

"Sir? Sorry to disturb you, but there's been a delivery. Security cleared it, but given the source, you'll want to see this immediately."

Tara and I exchanged a look that spoke of shared resignation. Even our most intimate moments couldn't remain uninterrupted for long in our current circumstances.

"Give us five minutes," I called back, already reaching for my clothes.

We dressed quickly and opened the door to find Marcus Cole holding an elegant black box tied with silver ribbon. His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the concern lurking beneath his professional composure.

"Another gift from our admirer?" Tara asked, taking the box and examining it with clinical detachment.

"Delivered by private courier about an hour ago," Marcus Cole confirmed. "Full security screening, no threats detected, but..."

"But the timing suggests our Miss Ravencroft has excellent intelligence about our activities," I finished grimly.

Tara untied the ribbon and opened the box to reveal an exquisite necklace—a delicate chain holding a pendant of carved moonstone surrounded by tiny diamonds. It was beautiful, expensive, and exactly the kind of gift that a well-bred young woman might send to express serious romantic interest.

Nestled beneath the necklace was another note, this one much briefer than the original letter:

*My Dearest Hunter,*

*I hope you will accept this small token of my esteem. The moonstone is said to enhance the bonds between those destined for each other—perhaps it will help you recognize when fate is offering you a better path forward.*

*I remain, as always, your devoted admirer.*

*Celeste*

Tara stared at the note for a long moment, then looked up at me with an expression that was equal parts incredulous and irritated.

"She sent you a magical love charm," she said flatly. "A woman you've never met sent you jewelry designed to make you fall in love with her."

"That's..." I paused, trying to find an appropriate response to such audacity. "That's actually impressive in its boldness."

"It's attempted magical coercion," Tara corrected sharply. "Which, depending on local laws, could be considered assault."

Marcus Cole cleared his throat. "Should I have the necklace examined by our magic specialists? Determine if there are any actual enchantments on it?"

"Absolutely," I replied immediately. "And Marcus? I want full surveillance on anyone connected to the Northern Territories Pack. If Miss Ravencroft thinks she can use magic to interfere with my relationship, she's about to learn exactly how protective Silverstone can be of its own."

Tara closed the box with a sharp snap, her movements betraying the anger she was keeping carefully controlled. "She's escalating. First the letter to test the waters, now magical coercion when subtlety failed."

"Which suggests she's working to a timeline," I agreed. "And that timeline is probably connected to our wedding date."

"Then we accelerate our own timeline," Tara said with quiet determination. "We identify her real agenda, neutralize whatever threat she represents, and make it very clear that I don't respond well to women who try to steal my fiancé."

As we began planning our response to Celeste Ravencroft's increasingly bold overtures, I realized that our enemy had made another crucial miscalculation. Instead of creating doubt or temptation, her actions had only strengthened my and Tara's resolve to protect what we had built together. Also, my mark was evident for everyone to see.

Whatever game Miss Ravencroft was playing, she was about to discover that some bonds couldn't be broken by magic, manipulation, or carefully timed romantic gestures.

And the woman she was trying to replace had already proven she was willing to fight wars for the man she loved.