Chapter Nine

Brax POV

She can’t run and there's no way she can hide. Witches are used by vampires too much. She’s at risk if she runs and hides with the humans, and she’s at risk if she comes to my pack, at least until I’m alpha.

So for now, I have to let her marry Kai and worse, I have to let him claim her. The difference is, our bond won’t go. It might be muted but it won’t burn out, that takes years.

I need months, then I can claim her. She pulls me closer, her body pressed against the window. She’s mine and nothing can change that. My hands slide down her body, grasping her thighs. I lift her, wrapping her legs around me.

What am I doing? Pulling back, I stop kissing her, but I don’t let her go. She leans into me, but I stop her. “You don’t want this.”

She doesn’t, not right now, she’s untouched. “I do.”

“Okay, but I want us to be married, for me to be able to claim you when we do.” I hate that it will be sex, nothing more.

“I saved myself,” she whispers. “For my mate, for this reason.”

“And I fucking love that, but I can’t do it until we’re married, until I can claim you.”

She nods. “So Kai gets to. I saved myself for my mate, just for him to reject me, and the man I don’t want gets to take it?”

She has no idea how hard it is for a vampire hybrid to sleep with their mate and not claim them. If I lose control, I’ll claim her, then she’s in more danger.

But the thought of another man touching her first sends my wolf into a frenzy. I kiss her again, and she begins to try to pull my clothes off.

Walking through to the bedroom, I set her down on the bed. My hands move, pulling my top off. Her eyes fall to my chest, and her fingers move stroking along it.

My wolf is vibrating with need, but I try to push him back. I watch her move and pull the dress off. My eyes move over her body, over the tattoos. I want to devour her.

Dropping to my knees, my lips kissing along her skin. My fingers stroke up her sides, and she shivers at the feel.

I plan to worship her.

Every inch of her is sacred. I press open-mouthed kisses along the delicate curve of her hip, tracing the delicate black ink that swirls over her ribs like living shadows. My tongue follows the lines of one tattoo, tasting the salt of her skin and the faint spark of magic that hums beneath it. She’s art. She’s power. She’s everything I was never supposed to have.

A low, reverent growl rumbles in my chest as I drag my mouth lower, kissing the soft dip of her stomach, the sensitive skin just beneath her navel.

My hands slide up the backs of her thighs, gripping, lifting, spreading her open for me so I can press my face against her like a man starving. I breathe her in, warm, sweet, wild, and the scent of her arousal makes my fangs ache and my cock throb painfully against my jeans.

“Beautiful,” I whisper against her inner thigh, voice rough. “So fucking beautiful, Little Nightbloom.”

I kiss her panties, slow and deliberate, letting my tongue taste the heat of her through the thin lace of her panties. She gasps, fingers threading into my hair, and the sound goes straight to my soul.

I don’t rush. I savour. I map every curve, every freckle, every hidden tattoo with my mouth and hands like I’m memorising a map only I will ever read. My palms glide over her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they tighten under my touch. I kiss the underside of one, then the other, sucking gently, reverently, until she arches and whimpers my name like a prayer.

She’s trembling. I’m trembling. Because this is more than want. This is fate and fire and the kind of hunger that could burn the world down.

I rise slowly, dragging my body up hers until we’re chest to chest, her back presses against the bed. My hands frame her face, thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks as I look into her eyes, those stormy, defiant, perfect eyes that own me completely.

Then I kiss her.

Not the frantic clash from before. This is deeper, slower and more devastating.

I slant my mouth over hers and pour everything into it, every ounce of the bond screaming in my blood, every silent promise I’ve made since the moment her scent hit me in that tattoo shop.

My lips move against hers like they were made for this, soft at first, then firmer, coaxing hers open with a gentle pressure that quickly turns hungry. I taste her, tongue sliding against hers in long, languid strokes that make her moan into my mouth. I swallow the sound like it’s oxygen.

One hand stays on her jaw, tilting her head exactly how I want it so I can kiss her deeper. The other slides down her back, pressing her tighter against me until there isn’t a single inch of space between us. I feel her heart hammering against my chest. I feel the magic in her flare and spark against my own power like lightning meeting thunder.

The kiss goes on and on. I lick into her mouth, suck on her tongue, nip at her bottom lip and soothe it with another slow glide. She melts, fingers digging into my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I groan low in my throat, the sound vibrating between us, and kiss her like the world is ending, like this moment is the only thing that has ever mattered and the only thing that ever will.

When I finally pull back, just enough for us both to breathe, her lips are swollen and glistening, her eyes dazed and glassy. My forehead rests against hers, our breaths mingling hot and ragged.

“Mine,” I whisper against her mouth, voice wrecked. “Even if the whole damn world tries to come between us… you are mine, Raine.”

And I kiss her again, softer this time, but no less consuming, because I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Not now. Not ever.

My fingers hook into her panties, and I drag them down her legs before I trail kisses back up, until my head settles between her thighs. My tongue moves slowly, sweeping over her. She whimpers, lifting her hips up. I feel her fingers grasp my hair as my tongue begins to drag over her faster.

She tastes like fucking heaven. Wrapping her legs around my head, I drop a hand and unfasten my trousers. My tongue continues to work her into a frenzy.