Bearclaw Valley you need cooling

His breath caught, just slightly, as her lips traced along his jaw. Her voice, warm and breathy against his neck, stirred something deep—something ancient and protective. Cole had known war, winter, loss. But this—this quiet claim, this reverence she poured over him—this was what made a man feel whole.
He didn’t move for a long moment, letting her worship him in the only way she knew how, soft and fierce all at once.
Then, his head dipped, muzzle brushing over her ear with the gentleness he reserved for no one else. His voice was low, rough like gravel smoothed by rain.
I could never.
He pulled her closer, chest to chest, so that she could feel the steady drum of his heart—how it beat only for her.
Tonight. Every night. I'm yours.
And for once, in the midst of a world full of jagged edges and old ghosts, he was content to surrender.

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