Chapter Ten

Aurora POV

His kiss isn’t soft, and I don’t want it to be. It’s consuming and desperate, exactly how it should be, it's the kind of kiss that tears open every lie that I've ever been told about love. It shreads apart every rule carved into my skin about obedience, silence and sacrifices.

His mouth moves over mine with so much hunger, but there's more deeper, something almost fractured that feels like grief and longing both tangled together, but also unraveling the moment his lips touch me.

His hand slides along my body, before his fingers thread into my hair and pull my head back slightly.

My heart is beating too fast and my limbs tremble beneath the press of his body, I don't move or pull away from him though.

I kiss him back with just as much force..

I open mouth for him, and the moment I do, he groans something low, rough, and completely undone. The sound vibrates through me, dragging heat between my thighs where I’m still slick and aching. He must smell it and I know he does, because his body tenses, and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, his eyes dark and wild, his breath ragged.

The room is filled with the scent of want, mind, his and the bond, it's hot, suffocating and twisting around us like it's binding us together.

“You should hate me,” he says, voice thick and barely controlled. “You should push me away.”

I shake my head, even as a thousand voices in my mind scream that I should. That this is wrong and that I’m naked in the claiming room, meant for another male, and he’s my mother’s husband, and none of this should be happening.

None of those voices belong to my wolf.

She’s silent, still, watching him with absolute, bone-deep certainty, she wants him, all of him.

“You canceled the wedding,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. “You walked into this room, and you then chose to close the door.”

He lowers his head, and he brushes his mouth just above my cheek, his lips ghosting over my skin like a promise not yet fulfilled.

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch you,” he murmurs, each word trembling against my jaw. “I told myself I’d keep my distance. But you were lying here, scenting the air for a male that wasn’t me, touching yourself for a bond you didn’t want, and I couldn’t stay away.”

Slowly, his hand slides down my side, until he finds the curve of my hip, and where the sheet is still clutched loosely around my waist. He doesn't pull it away, he just holds me, his thumb brushing slow circles into my skin as his gaze finds mine again.

“I tried to let you go,” he says. “But the bond doesn’t care about my pride and it certainly doesn’t care who I’m married to or what the world thinks is right. It chose you and I would tear down every law, every elder and every alliance if it meant I could have you without shame.”

My throat tightens and I can barely breathe.

“Then have me,” I whisper. “Don’t make me wait.”

I watch his eyes close, and the way his jaw clenches like he's fighting something inside of himself. For a moment I'm convinced he's about to pull back, that he'll now walk away again and leave me burning.

Only he exhales, a sound so low and broken, before pressing his forehead to mine.

“You’re already mine,” he says. “Even if I never deserved you.”

He begins to kiss me again, this time it’s not with hunger.

It’s with worship.

His lips stay on mine as his hand slips lower, tracing the line of my hip with a slowness that feels almost reverent. The sheet rustles beneath his touch, but he doesn't tear it away.

His hand pushes it down gently, with a kind of care that has my stomach twist. My heart catches, and it's like he's unwrapping something sacred.

I moan slightly as he deepens the kiss and coaxes my mouth open again, under his tongue can dance along mine. My mind flutters and I can barely remember how to breathe now, his tongues drags along mine with such slowness that it makes my toes curl. My back arches, pushing me closer to him.

I’m trembling beneath him, but not from fear. No, somehow I don't feel the fear I used to feel when he came close to me. This is something else entirely this is the shattering of every barrier I’ve ever built around myself and the barrier that has always been built between us.

When his fingers graze the inside of my thigh, I break the kiss on a gasp, wanting him to do more, he doesn't give me room to speak or think. His mouth moves down my neck, kissing and tasting me there, every press of his lips achors me deeply in the moment. It's like it's pulling me in, deeper and deeper, until all I can feel is him, his scent, his body, and his breath against my skin.

The moment his fingers finally slide between my legs, I bite down on my lip, hard, to stop the sound that is clawing it's way up my throat. I don't want to sound too eager, or give him too much too quick.

He finds me slick and wanting, his breath hitches against my collarbone as he strokes slowly through my wet heat.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice is raw and thick with something that sounds like awe. “Fuck, you’re perfect like this.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower... he moves along my throat, and his hand never stops moving.

As one finger slides inside me, my body reacts instantly, my hips jerk up, and my breath catches. I cling to him and my fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt as my mouth parts on a broken sound I can’t contain. No matter how hard I try, there's no containing it.

He responds with his own groans, a noise that is low and reverent like the feel of my wrapped around his finger is both a gift and a curse. My legs wrap around his body, holding him hostage between my thighs. I won't want to let him go, not until he claims me, not until he marks me, and shows the world I'm his and no one else's.

His thumb brushes against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, slow and careful, while his mouth claims mine again, devouring every sound I make, like he wants to taste my pleasure on his tongue.

I can't think, speak, or move really, all I can do is feel and burn as his finger pushes deeper, before withdrawing then doing it again and again.

Whimpers escape my lips and I struggle to stop them, my nails dig into him, and he hisses, but pushes closer and gives me one firm thrust of his finger before adding a second.

I'm burning, I'm going to explode if he doesn't hurry up and give me more. I need so much more, but I can't ask because his lips are still holding mine hostage, and every movement has me whimpering and moaning so no words can escape my lips.