Claim Me If You Dare

Me?

Falling for Kei?

I almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it.

That’s the mate bond talking. It has to be. The mate bond is nothing more than some ancient, ridiculous biological conspiracy designed to make a powerful woman like me lose her common sense over broad shoulders and a low voice.

Yes, that’s it. A manipulative thread tying my wolf to his like some cosmic prank—meant to distort my judgment and cloud my logic.

I am not some love-struck girl dazzled by a man.

No.

I am Ravelle—the future King. A strategist and probably the most powerful she-wolf to ever exist.

I do not lose my common sense.

I sharpen it.

Still… my pulse refuses to calm.

“If your plan is to toy with me, you might as well cuff me again and get it over with,” I spat. “And end whatever fantasy you think you’re going to win.”

His brows lift faintly and I let my gaze drop deliberately to his hands.

“I mean, you could try,” I add coolly. “But after seeing what I’m capable of… I doubt you’d dare.”

There.

That should put him back in his place.

Instead, he chuckles, and it takes me by surprise. Worse—he doesn’t sound offended or defensive but amused.

“The fire in your eyes,” he murmurs, stepping even closer than possible, “is dangerously distracting.”

Cool shivers race down my spine, as if ice has been poured over me.

"I swear,” he continues, his voice lowering, “it makes me want to take you right here and now.”

Before I can react, his hands are on my waist—and suddenly I am lifted effortlessly and seated on the edge of the kitchen counter.

The sudden movement makes my world spin, knocking the air from my lungs. My heart leaps into my throat when he moves his body between my knees before I can think to close them. The heat radiating from him feels unfair.

Overwhelming.

“So be careful, little mate, when you run that mouth of yours,” he murmurs near my ear. “Because I might forget every ounce of restraint I’ve been exercising.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I manage, but the words betray me. They waver.

He notices.

Of course he notices.

His hand slides along my thigh—not inappropriate, not yet—but intentional enough to make my breath hitch. His other hand braces against the counter beside me, effectively trapping me without forcing more contact than necessary.

I push against his chest but he doesn’t move. Not even an inch.

And that’s when I realize something terrifying.

Even though I am not cuffed. Even though I have my wolf and my strength back—my power doesn’t respond.

The fire inside me is silent. It flickers somewhere deep within, but it doesn’t surge.

It doesn’t obey.

It is as if my wolf is too busy… watching him. Enjoying his presence. Leaning into it. Thriving in the closeness and intimacy of our mate

Traitorous bitch.

"Your body says something very different from your threats,” he whispers. His breath is warm enough to scatter my thoughts like frightened birds.

The mate bond continues to hum violently as heat pools low in my stomach in a way that is both intoxicating and infuriating.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I’m not,” I snap.

He smirks, his voice dropping even further.

“Then why don’t I make your legs shake?” he mumbles, the sound a low rumble that makes my stomach flutter. “I think I know exactly how to do that.”

There is no smug arrogance in his tone.

Only certainty.

As if he already knows the effect he has on me.

I should be annoyed, but all I feel is heat relentlessly thrumming through my veins in violent waves.

Damn the mate bond.

The distance between us is nonexistent, and it is wreaking havoc on my resolve, but I am too stubborn to show him how his closeness is testing me.

“You wouldn’t.” The words slip from my lips before I can stop them.

A dare.

Challenging him means I want him to come through with his words, but I don’t.

Or do I?

His emerald eyes flash at the provocation. A low growl vibrates from his chest as his hand on my thigh slides slightly higher, riding up the flimsy material of my dress with it.

I can hear his thundering heartbeat, or is it just mine, as he leans closer, our lips barely an inch apart?

His gaze flickers down to my lips, his brow tightening as if he’s fighting for control—and losing.

My hand against his chest trembles with the need and urge to pull him closer, to find out if his lips taste as good as they look.

I’ve kissed him before.

Twice.

And I remember.

The taste.

The heat.

The way he claimed my mouth like he meant it.

And I want it again and again forever if possible. I bit my lips at the thought until I tasted blood.

He must feel the heat in my stare, because he growls my name in warning.

“Ravelle—”

My eyes lift to meet his.

"Don't do that."

And just like that—

I watch his restraint fracture.

Right before my eyes.

His lips come down on mine hard and fast, his hand that had been gripping the countertop curling around my neck like an anchor.

My thoughts turn to mush, and all I can hear and feel is Kei’s lips against mine and the blinding sparks that erupt behind my eyes.

I gasp against his lips, tugging his shirt closer as our lips fight for dominance.

His hand slides dangerously close to the apex of my thighs, the subtle action making my toes curl.

What the hell is happening to me? Why the hell am I acting like a bitch in heat? But I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want him to stop.

His lips slowly leave mine, but the heat of his body still remains glued to mine, like the perfect piece of a puzzle. He presses slow, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline, to the crook of my neck, and as though I’m under a spell, I tilt my head back to give better access.

I can feel the sharp edges of his canine scrape against my throat, against the very spot his mark is supposed to be, and the thought drives me near delirium.

He pulls back slowly, and I notice that his eyes are no longer the vibrant green I’m used to; they are clouded with desire for me.

His lips meet mine again as his fingers slip past the hem of my panties, sliding dangerously close to my center.

My hand clutches his shirt tighter as a moan slips past my lips. His hand, which had been wrapped around my neck, slides slowly and deliberately down to my waist before settling on my thigh.

Even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel the intention behind his touch.

His fingers trace upward at an unhurried pace, testing, asking without words. My breath hitches again, but I don’t pull away. He breaks the kiss only long enough to lift his head and meet my gaze.

That look.

It is as dark as it is focused, and the hunger in his eyes makes my breath catch. It’s the same look he gave me the first time I fell into his arms at the hotel—but I never saw it again. How had he hidden it so well?

He’s looking at me as though he once memorized me in fragments, piece by piece, and is now finally allowed to behold and worship.

His palms press against my inner thighs, gently urging them apart. The movement is not forceful—just certain.

And his darkened gaze never leaves mine even as he slowly sinks lower, the movement slow and reverent. His lips brush one knee first and linger there, then higher, up to my inner thighs. Each kiss is slower than the last, like he’s tasting time itself.

I can feel the heat in his restraint, the effort it cost him not to rush this, and when he reaches my aching center, tugging down the material of my panties, he pauses and looks up at me again.

My lips are parted as hot breath slips past; my blood runs torrid in my veins as the anticipation builds.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this and how hard I’ve been holding back,” he says quietly, his voice rough with want.

His thumb traces a slow line along my skin, just an inch closer to my clit, making her shiver.

“But now, I’m not going to hold back anymore,” he growls.

His hand around my hips tightens slightly. It wasn’t painful, just a gentle brace right before his lips brushed against my lower lip.

A strained gasp leaves my lips before I can hold back, and my back arches off the kitchen island as pleasure jolts through me.

His tongue dives deeper, stroking and lapping at my clit in slow circles that make me cry out in ecstasy.

Every nip of his tongue thrums through our bond, causing my skin to flush with heat.

My thighs begin to tremble—just like he’d promised they would—and my fingers tangle into his hair to brace myself as waves and waves of pleasure crash through me, leaving me moaning and panting for more.

I feel his tongue prod at my entrance, and I cry out, clenching around him.

He growls, the vibration against my aching center sending me spiraling as I climax with a cry.

He laps it all up, every single drop I had to offer, as I collapse against the marble countertop, my heart racing.

Kei rises slowly. His eyes are hooded when they meet mine, his lips still moist, and he adjusts himself before letting out a soft laugh under his breath at the sight of my breathless expression.

That laugh.

That arrogant, knowing laugh.

And just like that, the desire in my eyes vanishes. The heat transforms into anger.

Clarity returns in a rush.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

I refuse to be the blushing fool in this story.

If he wants a battle, I will give him one.

“You want to take me on a date?” I say, trying to steady my shaking voice. “Fine. Let’s explore this mate bond a little more, shall we?” I continue calmly, running my hands down his chest. His fingers tighten slightly at my waist.

“But understand something first.”

I lean closer. Close enough that my lips nearly brush his jaw.

“If you want to parade me around as your mate… if you want to claim me publicly…” I whisper, my voice growing steadier and sharper, "Then be prepared to make yourself my queen.”

The word lands between us like a thrown blade.

“Because I already told you, Kei,” I finish softly, my eyes locked on his, “I am king.”