Chapter 5: Desires

THE KISS was a conflagration, a devouring flame that consumed Selene’s every thought, every protest. Waldemar’s mouth was a searing brand against hers, possessive, hungry, demanding. His arms, like iron bands, pulled her flush against his hard, muscled body, eliminating any space between them. She was trapped, engulfed by his raw power, his intoxicating scent, the overwhelming, undeniable reality of the Moonbind.

Her mind screamed defiance, a desperate, futile cry against the pleasure that surged through her veins. It was a terrifying, all-encompassing sensation, a molten river that flowed from Waldemar’s lips directly into her core. Her body, a traitorous vessel, responded with shocking immediacy. A deep, aching throb pulsed in her belly, spreading outwards, making her muscles clench and her skin prickle with desperate need.

She tried to resist, to push him away, her hands flat against his chest, but her fingers curled, digging into the soft fabric of his shirt. Instead of pushing, she found herself clinging, drawn to the heat emanating from him, to the electric current that now arced between every point of contact. It was the Moonbind, twisting her will, forcing her surrender.

Waldemar broke the kiss, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his breath hot and ragged against her lips. His golden eyes, pupils dilated with desire, stared down at her, dark and intense.

"You felt that, witch," he murmured, his voice husky, triumphant. "The truth.”

Selene gasped for air, her chest heaving, every nerve ending alive and screaming. Shame, hot and bitter, washed over her, even as her body clamored for more.

"That wasn't truth," she whispered, forcing the words out, trying to push away the visceral memory of her response. "That was… coercion. Your magic, twisting mine.”

"A convenient excuse," he said darkly, a cynical edge to his tone. "But you kissed me back."

"I did not," she insisted, shaking her head, the denial a desperate mantra.

"You did," he said, dipping his head until their foreheads nearly touched, his eyes burning into hers. "You clung to me like a drowning woman."

"Because I was being dragged under!" she snapped, the words raw with frustration.

He chuckled, low and smug, the sound vibrating through her. "You say that. But your lips were soft, your moans—gods, Selene, your moans were real."

"Stop," she growled, her voice tight, a desperate plea for him to cease the torment.

"But you don’t want me to stop," he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "You want me to do it again."

"Stop!” she cried, a desperate, breathless sound.

He shifted, rising slightly, and Selene felt a sharp pang of loss, the sudden chill where his body had pressed against hers. But he didn't move away entirely. He kept her pinned beneath him, his weight a comforting pressure, his intense gaze never leaving hers.

"Get off me," she hissed, trying to inject venom into her voice, but it came out as a breathless plea, laced with a terrifying hint of longing.

"Not yet," he murmured, his eyes dropping to her throat, then lower, lingering on the rapid pulse at the base of her neck. "We have much to discuss. And much for you to learn about your new reality."

Waldemar leaned back, his expression unreadable now, a subtle shift in his demeanor. "You’re fighting the Moonbind. I respect that. But even your defiance tastes like desire.”

He finally rolled off her, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to her, but his formidable presence still dominated the space. Selene immediately scrambled backwards, pulling the silk comforter up to her chin, creating a flimsy barrier between them. She eyed him, wary, distrustful, but also acutely aware of the lingering warmth of his body beside her, a phantom touch on her skin.

"What do you want?" she repeated, her voice firmer now, as she tried to regain some composure, to find stable ground in this chaotic situation. "What is this 'Moonbind' exactly?"

Waldemar turned, facing her, his expression serious, almost clinical. "It's an ancient magic, rarely triggered. A mating bond of the rarest kind, forged when—"

"Spare me the lecture," she cut him off, a flash of her old fire returning. "I’m not some student in your little wolf academy.

His lips twitched, amused despite her snappiness. "You’re not a student. You’re the Alpha’s mate." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as if stating an undeniable truth. "You are everything now."

Her throat worked around a knot of panic. "You say this like it’s fate. Like I should thank you."

"No," he admitted, his gaze intense. "I expect you to hate me. At first."

She glared at him, a flicker of genuine shock in her eyes. "At first?”

"You’ll come to understand what we are. What we could be," he said, his voice dropping to a low, confident register that brooked no argument.

"I don’t want to understand you."

"You will. Or suffer,” he finished simply, the threat implicit in his tone.

He watched her, gauging her reaction. Selene felt the truth of his words deep in her bones. That insidious ache, that desperate yearning. It was still there, a constant hum beneath her skin, intensifying with every breath she took, a relentless craving that pulsed with its own life. Her magic, usually so responsive to her will, felt like a wild animal straining on a leash, desperate to connect with his, to merge with that overwhelming power.

"You're lying," she whispered, but the words lacked conviction, hollow and frail against the undeniable thrum of the Moonbind.

"Am I?" Waldemar challenged. "Feel it, Selene. Feel the truth of what I say." He extended his hand, not touching her, but holding it out, palm up, radiating raw power, a silent invitation.

Against her will, Selene felt her own magic respond. It thrummed, pulsed, tugged, desperate to reach out, to intertwine with his. A warmth spread from her chest, down through her limbs, a restless energy that promised release if only she would reach for him. It was a silent, undeniable confirmation of his words, a betrayal from within her own soul.

"No!" she gasped, jerking away from his outstretched hand. "This is a curse!" Her voice was a raw cry of anguish.

"Or a destiny," Waldemar countered, his voice soft, almost seductive, the words wrapping around her like a silken trap. "It's undeniable. And fighting it will only bring you pain.”

"I’d rather burn than belong to you."

"Then burn you shall," he said without malice, his golden eyes holding hers, calm and unwavering. "But know this—I burn too. You're not the only one suffering. My control frays by the hour. My wolf growls with the ache of it.”

"Good," she hissed, a bitter taste in her mouth. "Suffer."

His smile was almost fond, a dangerous, possessive warmth entering his gaze. "Fiery. The bond likes that. So do I.

Selene stared at him, horrified. This man, this Alpha, claimed he was in agony, yet he found pleasure in her defiance, in their shared torment. "So, I'm just… trapped? Bound to you against my will?"

"You could call it that," he agreed, leaning back against the headboard, his arms crossed over his formidable chest, a picture of untamed power. "Or you could call it fate. Either way, you are here. And you are mine. And every instinct in your body will compel you to accept that truth."

"I will never accept this," she vowed, her voice low and fierce, a desperate assertion of her remaining will. "I'll find a way to break it."

Waldemar laughed, a low, dismissive sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Many have tried. The Moonbind is permanent. It's a connection woven into the very fabric of our beings. You'll only exhaust yourself. And suffer needlessly." He watched her, a predator observing his prey, confident in the inevitable. "Or, you could learn to embrace it. To accept the pleasure it offers."

The word "pleasure" hung in the air between them, laced with a dark, tantalizing invitation. Selene felt a flush creep up her neck, her cheeks burning. The memory of his kiss, the raw, exquisite feeling of her body’s desperate response, flashed through her mind. It was terrifying how easily her body had succumbed, how readily it craved more.

"What about your pack?" she countered, desperately trying to shift the conversation away from the unsettling intimacy of the Moonbind, to find a weakness, a distraction. "They hate me. They're terrified of witches."

"They are also loyal to their Alpha," Waldemar stated, his voice firm, unwavering. "And you are now intrinsically linked to their Alpha. It will be… a period of adjustment. For all of us." His gaze flickered to her wrists, still red from the manacles, a stark reminder of her captivity. "But they will accept it. Or they will be forced to." The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air, cold and undeniable.

"They’ll obey," he added, a statement of fact.

"And if they don’t?" she challenged, daring him.

"They die," he said quietly, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, a chilling testament to his ruthlessness. "I’d kill for you. For the bond." He paused, his golden eyes pinning her. "I’d kill you if the bond demanded it."

She recoiled, a wave of stark horror washing over her. The casual brutality of his words stole her breath.

"And that," he added, "is the kind of madness the Moonbind brings.”

He rose from the bed, moving with that effortless power, and walked towards the large, arched window, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains. The sun, a pale disc, was just beginning to rise over Nocturne Hollow, casting a soft, golden light into the room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

"You will not be chained in the dungeon, Selene," he said, his back to her, his voice a low command. "You are my mate. You will be housed here, in my personal chambers. Guarded, of course." He turned, his gaze meeting hers, a warning in his golden eyes. "Any attempts to escape will be met with severe consequences. For you. And for anyone foolish enough to aid you."

Selene’s breath hitched. His personal chambers? This was a gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless. And the threat against anyone who helped her was a cruel twist, a leash around her heart as much as her wrists.

"What if I refuse?" she whispered, clutching the comforter tighter, a last desperate assertion of her agency.

Waldemar took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his golden eyes burning with an almost terrifying resolve. "You won't." He stopped directly in front of the bed, reaching out, his large hand wrapping around her ankle, his touch sending a jolt through her. His fingers were warm, firm, and possessive, a silent reminder of his claim. "Because the longer you deny the bond, the more excruciating the craving will become. It will consume you. It will drive you mad."

She met his gaze, fury and fear warping together on her face. “You’re a monster.”

He shrugged, a hint of dark amusement in his eyes. "Possibly. But I'm your monster now.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat, mate,” he returned, his voice dangerously soft.

He squeezed her ankle, gently, but with undeniable power. "And eventually, Selene, you will come to me. You will beg me to ease the burning. And I will. But you will have no choice in the matter. You will be desperate for my touch. Desperate for release."

“Stop touching me!” she demanded, jerking her leg, but his grip was unyielding.

“You don’t mean that,” he countered, his thumb rubbing a slow, sensual circle on her ankle, sending shivers up her leg, igniting the treacherous craving once more.

“I’ll kill you.”

“I believe you’ll try.” A challenging glint entered his eyes.

His gaze intensified, dropping to her lips, then her eyes. "You'll come to me willingly, witch. It's only a matter of time." He paused, his thumb rubbing a slow, sensual circle on her ankle, sending shivers up her leg. "And when you do, it will be exquisite. For both of us."

He released her ankle, leaving behind a burning heat, a ghost of his touch, and turned away, walking to the door. "Rest. We begin your re-education on the Moonbind's demands this afternoon." He opened the door, but before he stepped through, he glanced back, his molten eyes alight with a dangerous, triumphant gleam.

“And when the sun sets, little witch…”

“…you will be hungry for me.”