Lahat ng Kabanata ng Craving Forbidden Pleasures : Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

The parlor door shut with a deliberate click, and the sound echoed through her chest like a hammer.She stood in the half-dark, silk robe slipping from one shoulder, breathing shallow as though the walls had tightened around her. He hadn’t moved from where he stood, but his presence filled the room, pressing against her like a hand at her throat.“You think you’ve been feeding,” he said, his voice low, certain. “You’ve been playing. Picking at scraps. But I—” he stepped closer, shadows curling with him, “—I will show you what your hunger is for.”Her nails dug crescents into her palms. Every instinct screamed to bolt, to snarl, to deny him. But the fire beneath her skin betrayed her, pulsing, wetting her thighs with every breath he took nearer.“I don’t want—” she began, but the words broke apart when he closed the last inch between them. His hand caught her chin, tilting her face up until her lips parted against his thumb.“You do want.” His mouth brushed her ear, a whisper that melt

Dawn was a thin thing, uneasy and pale, pressing at the curtains as if it weren’t sure it had the right. She woke to the feeling of someone’s fingers—warm, heavy—still threaded in the hair at the nape of her neck, and for a second the room spun in a memory of last night’s heat: the cadence of his hands, the quiet, hard rules he’d set like iron on the air, the taste of him in her mouth that still clung like copper and regret.She blinked up at candle stubs, at curtains still drawing shadows across the floor, and realized she was not alone. He lay half-curled beside her, his chest rising slow and steady, as steady as a heartbeat she’d learned to take her time by. The bed beside her was a chaos of sheets and feather pillows, and the scent that clung to everything—smoke, sweat, the musk of a man who had taught her how to contain a devouring—was all at once intimate and terrifying.Something cold touched her wrist. She started and saw the iron band there, the one he’d placed on the table t

Elara’s pulse hammered in her ears. The clearing was silent save for her breath, sharp and shallow, and the low, steady cadence of his voice.“Come to me,” the fae prince had said.And somehow, impossibly, she had moved.One step. Then another. Her slippers pressed into moss soft as velvet, the air thickening with each pace, until she stood before him. Close enough that his scent wrapped around her, close enough that his shadow eclipsed her own.He did not touch her—not yet. He only watched, those impossible eyes burning into her, peeling her open.“You fear me.” His tone was soft, like a hand trailing the spine of a book.“Yes.” The word slipped out unbidden.“And yet.” His smile curved, dangerous and exquisite. “You came.”She should have denied him. She should have turned and run. Instead, she whispered, “I don’t know why.”He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rich, unnervingly intimate. “Mortals never do. Desire is older than reason.”Her lips trembled. She wanted to argue, to

The air in the clearing seemed to shimmer once the bargain was spoken. Elara’s “yes” had been fragile, trembling, but it was enough to bind her, and the forest itself seemed to acknowledge it. The moss glowed faintly beneath her slippers, the branches overhead whispered in languages she did not understand, and the fae prince’s eyes burned brighter than ever.He did not waste another heartbeat.His mouth descended on hers again, claiming, consuming, but there was no violence in it—only certainty. He kissed as if her surrender was his birthright, as if every line of her body had always been waiting for him to discover. The sheer power of it buckled her knees, and he steadied her with one arm wrapped firmly around her waist.“You are trembling,” he murmured against her lips.“Yes,” she whispered, unable to deny it.“Good. Tremble for me.”Her breath shuddered as he guided her backward until the curve of a great oak pressed against her spine. He pinned her there with his body, not crushin

The forest edge met the riverbank in a tangle of reeds and shadows, a narrow strip where the village’s mundane world faded into wild, untamed nature. Elara approached cautiously, heart hammering, aware of the villagers in the distance yet too close for comfort. The bond pulsed through her, insistent, alive, a thread pulling her toward him with every step.He was there, already waiting, half-hidden in shadow, the silver of moonlight glinting off his hair, eyes shimmering like liquid starlight. His gaze swept over her as she approached, slow, deliberate, devouring. The ache in her belly surged violently, and she pressed a hand to her wrist where the crescent mark throbbed, alive with his claim.“You’ve grown bold,” he murmured, stepping closer, voice low and commanding. “Or perhaps the bond is teaching you, showing you what you cannot resist.”“I—I’m careful,” she whispered, breath uneven, cheeks flushed. She tried to sound composed, mortal, ordinary, but the ache between her thighs, th