26. Hungry and Fierce

Mason led her silently down the dim corridor, the one that branched between her room and Cecil’s. The deeper they walked, the quieter everything became. 

Aria’s senses heightened with every step, especially when she noticed they were headed toward the end of the hall. Her eyes scanned the ornate walls and hanging picture frames, her pulse quickening, anticipating the unknown.

She suspected this wasn’t just any part of the house. It had an air of privacy... intimacy.

When Mason stopped in front of the lone door at the very end, he turned to her with a slow, devilishly seductive smile that made her heart skip a beat and her knees subtly weaken. 

Without a word, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Aria hesitated, swallowing hard. 'This must be the master bedroom… or something close to it,' she guessed, then cautiously followed.

What greeted her inside wasn’t what she expected.

Her mouth fell slightly open, eyes sweeping across the space with confusion.

It was an indoor garden. Once beautiful, now full of withered plants and dried vines curling around wooden frames. The soft lighting above from the moonlight cast gentle shadows, making the space feel strangely intimate despite the decay.

She frowned, turning toward Mason just as his deep voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

“You look confused,” he said with a knowing grin, his eyes watching her every subtle reaction.

Aria blinked and nodded. “A little, yeah. You said you were taking me somewhere we could forget everything for one night… and you brought me to a graveyard of plants?”

Mason let out a soft, husky chuckle that made the air feel warmer. “It does look like that, doesn’t it?” he said, stepping around her, their shoulders brushing. “This used to be my late wife’s greenhouse. She adored this place.”

Aria turned to him, not quite sure what to say.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I didn’t bring you here to talk about dead plants.”

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then slipped behind a wall of brittle vines and vanished from view.

“Come,” his voice called softly, low and smooth like velvet in the dark. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.”

Something in the way he said it sent a ripple down her spine... half thrill, half anticipation as her bare feet moved on their own to follow him into whatever secret world waited behind the decay.

She followed the soft rustle of Mason’s steps and found him stepping onto a wide wooden platform nestled between walls of dry vines. It was like a hidden haven—part bed, part lounge. 

In the center, a beautifully arranged charcuterie board lay waiting, brimming with rich cuts of meat and delicate cheeses, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon above.

“Come here,” Mason said smoothly, patting the space beside him with a half-smile that bordered on temptation.

Aria arched a brow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “What is this? A midnight picnic under the moonlight?” she teased as she plucked a slice of cheese from the board and popped it into her mouth.

“Something like that,” he replied, watching her closely. “This is where I come when I need to think... breathe... ask the Moon Goddess for answers.”

That made Aria pause. Her brows lifted in surprise. “You? Praying to the Moon Goddess?” she echoed, amusement dancing in her tone.

Mason chuckled. “Why does that sound so unbelievable?”

“Because of who you are,” she said honestly, shifting her body to face him more directly. “You’re powerful. Feared. Admired. Envied. Everything about you screams control and command. Not... prayer.”

He leaned toward her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body brushing against her skin. “I like it when you speak your mind like that... especially when it’s just the two of us.”

His voice dropped slightly, deeper now, rougher. “So tell me then, Aria. Now that you've seen this side of me... what do you think of me?”

Her gaze drifted to his eyes, completely distracted by them. There was something mesmerizing about them—like moonlight had melted into his irises. “Your eyes...” she whispered. “They seem different under the moonlight.”

“Different how?” he asked, already captivated by her attention.

She leaned in, unable to stop herself. “They're glowing. Like silver. Almost... inhuman and not werewolf too, they're something else...”

Curiosity overtook hesitation, and she reached up with both hands to cup his face, gently brushing her fingers along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, taking a closer look at his eyes. 

Mason inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into her touch.

“Strawberries... and vanilla...” he murmured. “That’s what you smell like. Sweet. Addictive. Why did you only appear now? If I’d found you sooner... I could’ve saved before all of this.”

His words were quiet but heavy, and they sent a shiver down her spine. But at the same time, it confused her.

Aria blinked, snapping herself out of the trance. “I–I think you’ve had enough wine. Maybe we should call it a night.”

She moved to stand, but in a fluid motion, Mason caught her wrist and pulled her straight into his lap, straddling him. 

Her breath caught in her throat as his arms wrapped around her waist and his head rested against her chest, possessive and tender all at once.

“Aria...” he murmured against her.

“You’re drunk, Mason,” she said softly, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air. “We should rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

But he didn’t let go. In fact, he only pulled her closer, burying himself against her warmth.

“Just... stay like this,” he said, his voice hoarse with something more than fatigue—longing.

Aria hesitated, then relaxed slightly, adjusting her position to ease the tension between them. But that’s when she felt it—his body reacting to her, firm and undeniable... Hard.

'Oh my God… he’s aroused!' she realized with a silent gasp, heat blooming across her cheeks and pooling low in her stomach.

She shifted, instinctively trying to put space between them, but Mason was faster. He tightened his hold, lifting his head to meet her eyes—intense, smoky, and unfiltered.

“I can smell it,” he whispered, his gaze dropping between her thighs. “You want me, too.”

She froze, caught between embarrassment and something far more dangerous. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Mason smirked. “Speechless now?” he teased. “You’re even cuter when you’re flustered.”

He leaned in slowly, closing the space between them. She felt her heartbeat in her throat, erratic and wild.

'What do I do?' she panicked.

[Don’t lie to yourself,] her wolf purred. [You’ve wanted this from the start.]

“M-Mason—” she started, barely above a whisper.

But he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her with a gaze that burned.

“Shh... just shut up... and kiss me.”

And before she could think, before she could resist or even breathe. His lips crashed into hers, hungry and fierce, devouring her protest in a kiss that was anything but gentle.