chapter 44

EZRA

She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I should never touch.

Too late.

Because the moment I push inside her, the world disappears.

I don’t ease in. I don’t ask permission. I take.

Because she’s mine. Even if she probably doesn't know it yet.

Her body wraps around me like velvet heat, tight and wet, her gasp punched out like she wasn’t ready—good.

I wasn’t fucking ready either.

She clenches, already trembling, and I nearly lose control.

The desk shakes with every thrust, her skin slick with sweat, her scent everywhere—vanilla and lust and something darker. Something I shouldn’t crave. But I do. I crave all of it.

She moans my name like a secret she’s never spoken before.

I watch her come undone, legs spread, mouth open, eyes glazed. Her desperation makes me ravenous. I fuck her like I’m trying to erase every man that ever dared touch her before me and that's what I'm doing.

I’m carving myself into her with every thrust.

“You were made for me,” I growl, watching her writhe beneath me. “Fucking made for this.”

I want her to feel me for days. I want her ruined just like she did to me.

I shift her hips, angle deeper, and she shatters—beautiful, breathless, broken in all the right ways.

But it’s not enough. I need more.

Her nails rake down my back, and the sting only makes me hungrier. My control slips, snapping thread by thread until the monster inside me claws to the surface.

I warned her.

She didn’t listen.

She begged me not to stop.

And monsters never stop when they’re feeding.

I bare my fangs and sink them into her neck—not gently. Not sweet. Deep. Sharp. Possessive.

Her blood rushes against my tongue—hot, copper-sweet, pulsing with her climax. She clamps around me, tighter than anything I’ve ever felt, her body milking me, dragging me under.

My rhythm turns savage. Unforgiving. I'm not just fucking her anymore.

I'm claiming her.

I come with a roar, buried deep, fangs in her neck, soul unraveling. She takes all of me—blood, cum, sin—and doesn’t look away.

And when it’s over, when we’re both spent and shaking and slick with sweat and sex and something unspoken, I lick the blood from her skin and whisper the truth I’ve known since the first time I saw her:

“You taste and feel like mine.”

Because she is.

My Aureate.

My mate.

Mine.

Even if she runs, even if she denies it, even if she breaks—I will find her.

Because I just tasted heaven.

And I don’t let go of what’s mine.

.

.

.

THEA

Silence.

The kind that weighs heavy in the air, thick with everything we did and everything we shouldn't have.

I should move.

I should say something.

But I just sit there, breathing him and the smell of sex, sprawled across his goddamn desk like some unprofessional, freshly-fucked idiot, naked, his bite mark still pulsing at the crook of my neck like a brand.

Jesus.

No, I shouldn't call that man in this situation.

But what the hell did I just do?

I sit up too fast, almost knocking over a paperweight, and swat his hand away when he tries to steady me. “Don’t—”

His brows lift. Not in surprise. In amusement. Like watching me flail is his new favorite entertainment. He slips out, eliciting a wince from me.

I hop off the desk, almost buckling as I scramble to pick up my skirt and blouse while I try to ignore the ache between my thighs and the stickiness trickling down my inner thigh. My legs are still trembling, damn them. I feel... stretched. Sore. Ruined.

“You can’t just—” I gesture between us, not even knowing what I’m accusing him of. “That wasn’t— This is not how things are supposed to go.”

He leans back in his chair like a goddamn king while he buckle his pants, lips still red from where he bit me. I almost burst from embarrassment. He's not even naked unlike me.

“That was exactly how it was supposed to go. But you interrupted it because I was supposed to eat you out after this.” he says, voice low and smug.

Again?

God, I hate him.

And myself.

I should be composed. Graceful. Buttoned-up. The woman who walks out of a room untouched, unbothered, un-bitten.

Instead, I’m practically hopping as I search frantically for my panties but I can't find it.

“Where is it?” I ask him with a glare, covering my breast and bare pussy with my clothes.

He raises an eyebrow, watching me intently.

“What?”

“My—”

“ —oh this?” He asks, bringing my panties out from his back pocket and raising it in the air. Then, he squeezes it between his palm. “It's mine now.”

Psycho.

I grunt as I walk back, still facing him. When I reach the restroom attached to his office, I hurriedly push open the door and step in. I shut the door and lean against it, chest heaving.

“God. What have I just done?” I grunt, pulling my hair.

I inhale shakily and dress up, silently praying I didn’t lose one of my heels in the heat of it.

When I step out, now dressed and put together after minutes of chastising myself before the mirror, he watches me like he’s still inside me. Like he’s still claiming me with his damn eyes.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” I mutter, reaching for my blazer.

“And how am I looking at you, sugarplum?”

“Like you want to do it again.”

He doesn’t deny it. Of course he doesn’t.

His smile is slow. Predatory as he sits on his chair, his desk a mess.

“I do want to do it again.”

“God, you’re impossible,” I snap, grabbing my blazer and yanking it on. “We’re at work. You’re my boss. You’re a vampire.”

“And you’re my mate.”

I freeze.

Just like that, the air changes. Again.

“Mate? What's that?”

“You.”

Weirdo.

I clear my throat. “Ehmm, that's okay I guess. Since we are now equal, I'll take my leave.”

“Equal you say.” He says with a dark chuckle. “Well, tell yourself that all you want but you let me touch you and now you are mine but still, anything that makes you sleep better at night, sugarplum.” 

I grit my teeth and do what any self-respecting woman does when she’s been thoroughly ruined by her supernatural employer:

I toss my hair like I’m fine, and pretend I’m not leaking from multiple places.

Professional. Composed. Dignified.

Even if my legs threaten to buckle the moment I finally slip in my heels and try to walk toward the door.

As I place my hand on the knob, he calls after me,

“Oh, and kindly send in Nora when you leave..”

My head snaps to him, nose flaring as my eyes take in his disaster of a office.

Even a newborn baby will know what we've done if they step in here. Afterall, the room looks like a disaster and smells like sweat and sex.

“Clean it yourself, boss.” I hiss, yanking the door open with as much grace as a woman who was just fang-fucked can muster.