Chapter Nine

Aurora

I keep my eyes closed, not because I’m afraid, but because seeing the room would make it all too real. This room is set up for me. The wall are lined with soft candlelight and scented smoke fills my lungs.

The bed beneath me has been dressed in ivory silk as if the beauty of the room can soften what's about to happen.

I can feel the oil on my skin, still warm where the elder priestess brushed it along my thighs, across my chest, then down my arms. They told me to lie still, to open myself to the ritual, and to make myself ready in both mind and body.

This is tradition, it's the first step before the claiming and marriage, and so, I obeyed.

My hand moves slowly between my legs, my fingers slick with heat and trembling slightly. I’m supposed to think of Caelan and I’m meant to imagine the weight of him over me, the way he’ll touch and bite and mark me as his.

The issue is, no matter how hard I try to summon his face, it doesn’t come, and all I see is someone else, Killian. The shape of his shoulders and the gravel of his voice. I can only remember the way his mouth brushed against my neck when the bond snapped between us and his entire body trembled trying to fight it.

The bond is still alive, it hasn’t dulled and if anything, the heat inside of me has only grown sharper, and more desperate, like it knows the wrong male is coming and refuses to be still.

I breathe in through my nose and part my thighs a little more, dragging my fingers slowly over the swollen, aching place where every part of me feels too hot. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it, and I turn my face toward the pillow, trying to muffle the sound. But even that can’t stop the pleasure and the weight of need building beneath my skin.

The sheets cling to me, and my hips shift, lifting up with instinct more than intention. I circle my fingers again, slower this time and deeper. My breath comes in ragged gasps now. It's not because I’m trying to excite myself for Caelan, but because no matter what I tell myself, it’s Killian I want.

I don't want to accept it, but it’s his mouth that I imagine, his hands and his weight pinning me down with that quiet growl in his throat that sounded far too much like a promise.

Something in the air changes, first it's small, a prickle at the base of my neck. I feel the shift in the air, like the space around me has thickened and I know it's not Caelan who is here.

My wolf goes still, eyes wide in the back of my mind, and a pressure rolls across my chest so suddenly that I freeze completely.

He’s here, in this room with me right now. I can feel him, all of him, his presence, breath and the pulse of the bond that tightens like a noose. Every single part of me tenses, and my hand stills between my legs, fingers still slick and trembling.

Shame burns across my cheeks even though I haven’t opened my eyes and I don’t have to because I know it’s him.

Killian is here, watching me. The bond pulls at me with force that borders on violent, it's like it wants to drag me out of my body and into his. This is all wrong, he shouldn't be here. Caelan should be here. My pulse pounds so hard that I can hear it in my ears, but I don't move, and I don't speak or open my eyes

I know that if I do, I have no idea what I will see, yes Killian is here, but for what reason?

I don’t know what he’ll do.

I lie here and don't move, my body is exposed and glistening with the oil. My legs are parted and my fingers have now stilled between my legs, just resting there, but wet with my pleasure. He can see it all, and I know that he can feel it all as well. He can see the curve of my hip, the way my legs are parted, and the flush that is no doubt crawling across my skin, all evidence of what I've been doing.

The scent is thick now, it's not just mine, but his as well, the bond trying to pull us together. it drifts toward me like heat rising, and the scent is filled with hunger and tension, and that distinct primal weight that only fated mates share when they are trying to avoid each other and not break to it.

Killian is breaking, he has to be to enter this room, I can feel it as well, the way his restraint is breaking, and unraveling piece by piece with each second that he stands there in silence just watching me.

I'm so confused, I want to cry out, but also pull the sheet over myself and hide, more than that, I want him to move. To come toward me, to come closer and close the distance. I want him to do what every part of me has been aching for since the moment the bond awakened.

For some reason though, he doesn't. He stands in the doorway still frozen in place between sin and survival. I stay here, trying to remember exactly how to breath.

I feel the shift before I hear it, the creak of the door moving, I'm so sure he's leaving, only I hear the soft press of his footsteps coming closer to me.

The air thickens, heavy with tension and heat, and I finally open my eyes slowly and hesitantly. I know who I'm going to see, but I'm still unprepared for the reality of it. I'm not ready for him standing there, closer now, and watching me

His hand is still between the bed and the door, but his eyes… his eyes are locked between my legs.

He doesn’t speak not even a word, he just stares. I can see his chest rising and falling with each sharp and shallow breath he takes. I can see his jaw is clenched, it's so tight that the muscle is twitching near his temple.

I don't know if he's furious, starving, or something dark, or maybe all of it together? His body is giving off mixed signs as his gaze travels up the length of my body.

His nostrils flare as he breathes me in, and the bond surges so hard that my vision flickers.

He reaches back, without breaking eye contact and pushes the door closed. The click of it is final, like a lock sealing out the rest of the world.

My hands shake as I reach for the sheet, wanting to cover myself from his eyes, it's meaningless right now, he's seen everything. My fingers are still damp with my own arousal, and the air smells of want, need and now him as well.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving me, and then his voice cuts through the thick, unbearable silence.

“It’s over,” he says. His tone is low, almost hoarse. “The wedding’s off. The mating is canceled. You’re not going to be Caelan’s.”

My heart stops, then slams against my ribs with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. This was my way out, Caelan was making me his Luna it means that I wouldn't be scrubbing floors or cleaning like a servant anymore, worse than a servant, a slave.

“What?” I manage, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Why?”

He moves another step forward, his eyes dark and shining like his wolf is too close to the surface.

“Because you’re mine.”

His words hit me hard, and like a storm, I don't have time for them. They knock the breath from my lungs and every nerve in my body is set alight from them. I sit up, pulling the sheet with my, covering my chest as I shake my head even though the bond is screaming agreement that I'm his.

“No,” I say, voice trembling. “I’m not. You—my mother’s your mate.”

What has he done? He doesn't even flinch, he doesn't deny that fact. Instead he just watches me as he keeps moving until he's at the edge of the bed, then he climbs on slowly, and the patience he has is like a predator who knows that surrender is coming soon.

“She was never my mate,” he says, crawling forward until his body hovers just above mine. “Not by blood, not by scent and note by fate. She was a contract, a forced bond and mate. You are fate.”

“Killian—” I start, but the rest of the word dies against his mouth because he kisses me, and the world stops.

There's no gentleness in it, nothing hesitant as his mouth crashes into mine with so much force that it unlocks everything he's held back. It's full of everything that we've denied, and everything that's been coiled between us since the moment the bond grew and snapped into place.

His hand slides under the back of my neck, and his fingers tangle into my hair so he can hold me in place as he deepens the kiss, claiming my mouth like it belongs to him, because it does. Because I do. Even if I want to fight this, I am his.

The sheet slips from my grip. My hands reach for him without thinking, clutching his shoulders, dragging him closer until the full weight of him presses into me and I can feel every inch of his body, hot and hard and trembling with restraint.

He groans against my lips, his hips grinding against mine, the scent of the bond rising between us like wildfire.

I should stop him, I know that I should push him away, but I don’t, because the truth is, I’ve never felt more like myself than I do right now, beneath him, beneath this bond, beneath the one male the world says I can’t have… but who was made for me all the same.