Chapter Five: Happy Birthday to Me

POV: Naya

Nothing prepares you for being ignored by the man who had his mouth on your breast eighteen hours ago.

Zayden didn't show up to breakfast. Or lunch. Dorian said he was "handling Council business in the city." Vespera watched me across the kitchen island like I was a bomb with a loose wire.

By nightfall, I was ready to scream.

"Stop sulking," Santana said, zipping me into a dress I'd never have picked. Red silk. Backless. Thin straps. Cut so low in front that a bra was impossible. "It's your birthday. You're getting drunk, you're dancing, and you're looking hot. That's the plan."

"Whose plan?"

"Mine."

I'd begged her not to make a fuss. She'd ignored me, obviously. The whole terrace over the Hudson glittered with string lights and a hundred pack members in cocktail dresses and dark suits. Champagne towers. A DJ. A cake the size of a tire.

And a fire in my blood that hadn't stopped since the west corridor.

It was worse tonight. My skin felt too tight. My pulse thudded in places it had no business thudding. Every time the wind touched my bare back, I shivered like a fingertip had traced it.

"Happy birthday!" Santana yelled, and a hundred voices echoed.

I blew out the candles and made a wish I couldn't say out loud.

He arrived at ten.

I felt it before I saw him, like a hand closing around my spine. The whole terrace went quiet as he stepped through the glass doors in a midnight-black suit, no tie, collar open at the throat, that bandage still wrapped over his knuckles. Silver threads at his temples caught the lights.

He didn't look at me.

Fine. Whatever.

Vespera appeared at my elbow near the bar, cool and silent as a shadow. "Stay away from him tonight," she murmured.

"Why?"

"Because he's not the only one in danger here."

She was gone before I could ask what that meant.

The bass thudded through the floor. Every eye on the terrace seemed to track me, and I felt on display, on fire, hungry for exactly one person. I turned my back and let Tobias, a tall, sweet-faced young wolf from the pack, pull me onto the dance floor. He was polite. Harmless. His hand settled at the small of my back, on bare skin, and I laughed at something he said, and for one second I almost forgot.

Then the air changed.

Gold light flickered at the corner of my eye. I looked up.

Zayden stood at the balcony rail above the dance floor, one hand gripping the stone, his gaze pinned to Tobias's hand on my skin.

Tobias followed my eyes. The color drained from his face. "I, um, I just remembered I promised someone a drink."

He fled.

I stood alone in the middle of the dance floor, furious.

"Seriously?" I hissed toward the balcony, though no one could hear. "You ignore me for a day, then scare off anyone who touches me?"

Zayden's jaw flexed. Then he turned and disappeared inside.

I didn't decide to follow him. My legs just did it. Through the terrace doors, down the back stairs, out across the lawn toward the river, where the estate's private dock stretched into the dark.

The boathouse door stood open.

He was waiting inside.

Moonlight through the windows. Water lapping at the pilings. Zayden's back to me, both hands braced on a workbench, shoulders rising and falling like he'd run a mile.

"Go back to the party, Naya."

"No."

"I'm not asking."

"Then don't ask." I stepped inside and kicked the door shut. "What did I do?"

"You wore that dress."

My mouth fell open.

He turned. His eyes weren't flashing this time. They were blazing. "Every man up there looked at you. I could smell what they wanted. And you let one of them put his hand on your skin."

"Because you wouldn't look at me!"

"Because I can't." He crossed the room so fast I barely saw it. His hands slammed against the wall on either side of my head. "You have no idea what I've done to keep my hands off you today."

"Then stop."

His breath stuttered.

"Stop trying," I said, low, shaking. "It's my birthday. Give me what I want."

Something in him broke.

He kissed me like he was drowning. His hands fisted in my hair, his mouth crushed mine, his tongue sliding against mine until my knees gave out. He caught me under the thighs, lifted me onto the workbench, and stepped between my legs. He dragged the strap off my shoulder. The silk pooled at my waist, cool air hit my bare breasts, and then his mouth was there, hot, his tongue circling until I threaded my hands into his hair and pulled.

"Say it," he rasped against my throat. "Tell me what you want."

"You."

"More."

"Your hands. Your mouth." I gripped his shoulders. "I want you to make me scream."

He growled. It wasn't a sound a man makes.

The red silk slid up my thighs. His palm followed, hot and rough, and slipped between them. I gasped. His fingers found the damp lace and he exhaled against my ear, a broken sound. "You're soaked."

"For you."

"God, Naya." His forehead dropped against mine. "I've never wanted anything the way I want you. Never."

He pushed the lace aside. His fingers slid through me, slow and deliberate, and I arched off the bench with a cry. He circled that aching spot with his thumb, pushed one thick finger inside, then two, working me open until my thighs shook around his hips.

With his free hand, he yanked his belt loose and wound it around my wrists. "Hold on to the shelf."

I did.

"Good girl."

I nearly came right there.

He knew. He slowed, eased back, teased the edge until tears burned my eyes.

"Please. Please, Zayden. I can't"

"You can."

He curled his fingers deeper, and his mouth returned to my breast, teeth scraping the tight peak. The pleasure was blinding. The sounds pouring out of me weren't mine. Wild. Shameless.

"Zayden," I sobbed. "Daddy"

He froze.

I hadn't meant to say it out loud. Heat flooded my face, but he didn't pull away.

Then he made a noise I'd never heard from anyone, half snarl, half prayer, and drove his fingers harder. "Again."

"Daddy, please"

"That's it. Scream for me."

The orgasm ripped through me, white-hot. I screamed his name into the rafters, hips jerking against his hand while he held me through every wave, his voice in my ear, rough and reverent. "That's my girl. That's it."

But it didn't stop.

The heat kept building. Past pleasure. Past anything human. My skin blazed, and the ache in my spine turned to agony.

"Naya?" His hands were on my face. His voice cracked. "Naya, look at me." Through his open shirt, his chest blazed silver, the same fire tearing across my ribs. "Don't fight it. Let it come."

I couldn't breathe. My back bowed. Something snapped inside me, and something else howled. My bones felt like they were being rewritten. Fire shot down my arms. My nails burned, my gums split, and the scream that tore out of me wasn't entirely human.

Zayden's eyes went wide with pure horror. "No. Not yet. It's too soon."

The belt tore off my wrists. I fell forward and he caught me, gripping me hard against his chest.

"I've got you," he said, and he sounded terrified. "I've got you, Naya. Stay with me."

My vision burned silver, then black.

And in the silence between heartbeats, a voice that was not his, not mine, and older than both of us spoke inside my skull.

Finally.