Semua Bab Desired By My StepDad and His Son: Bab 171 - Bab 180

One evening, as the full moon approached, the tension in the penthouse was palpable. Silas was restless, his eyes glowing a permanent, vivid gold. He couldn't stay in human form for long; the moon was calling to him. "I can feel it," he growled, his voice now a permanent rasp. "The itch under my skin." "I'm not afraid of the wolf, Silas," I said, stepping toward him. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight but not painful. "You should be. The wolf doesn't know about romance, Elena. The wolf only knows about hunger and possession." "Then let him possess me." He let out a low, rumbling laugh that turned into a snarl. He shifted right there in the middle of the living room. I watched in awe as his muscles expanded, his clothes ripping apart as grey-brown fur erupted from his pores. His face elongated, teeth sharpening into lethal fangs, his eyes widening into luminous orbs of gold. Within seconds, a massive wolf stood before me, his shoulders reaching my chest, his presence overwhelmin

As the date of the full moon approached, the air in the city seemed to thicken. Silas became increasingly restless. He spent hours staring out the window of the penthouse, his muscles twitching, his breathing heavy. The bond between us had grown, and I could feel his agitation mirroring my own."It's getting stronger," I said one night, lying in bed beside him."The pull," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "It's like a fever. I can feel the wolf scratching at the inside of my skull, demanding to be let out. He wants to run. He wants to hunt. And he wants you.""I'm not afraid," I said, sliding my hand down his chest to the hard ridge of his stomach.Silas caught my hand, his grip firm. "You should be. This moon is different. It's a Supermoon. The power is... amplified. I'm worried I won't be able to keep the human side in control.""Then don't," I whispered. "Trust me. Trust the bond."He looked at me, his gold eyes searching mine. "You're so brave. Or so foolish. I can't decide which.

The dress the housekeeper, a stern woman named Sofia, had laid out for me was a slip of midnight-blue silk that felt more like a suggestion than a garment. It clung to my curves, the fabric cool and liquid against my skin, ending mid-thigh with a slit that teased the air every time I moved. I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, feeling exposed and fragile. I looked like a girl playing dress-up in a woman's world, but the heat radiating from my core told a different story. My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked toward the dining room. The house was too quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. The dining table was a slab of polished mahogany, stretching longer than I cared to imagine. Dante sat at the head, a glass of deep red wine in his hand. He had discarded his jacket; his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and a glimpse of a dark tattoo disapp

The recovery was slow, but it brought us closer in a way that sex never could. For two weeks, I was the one taking care of him. I changed his bandages, brought him tea, and read to him while he rested in the oversized leather chair in the library. We talked. Really talked. He told me about his childhood, about the weight of the family legacy, and the loneliness of the top. I told him about my dreams, my fears, and the way I had started to love the monster. One evening, as the moon cast long, silver shadows across the room, Dante reached for my hand. "I have something for you," he said. He produced a small velvet box. Inside was a ring—a massive, pear-cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones, sparkling with a cold, brilliant light. "I don't want you as collateral anymore, Elena," he said, his voice soft. "And I don't want you as a guest." "Dante..." "Be my wife. Not because of a debt. Not because of a deal. But because I cannot imagine a single day of the rest of my li

The water clung to them like a second skin, warm and viscous, blurring the line where their bodies ended and the pool began. Dorian still had Lily pinned against the cool, tiled wall of the infinity edge, his weight a heavy, comforting pressure that anchored her in the swirling turquoise. The city lights of the metropolis twinkled behind them, a thousand distant diamonds, but Lily’s world had shrunk to the size of the man pressing into her. His mouth left hers, trailing a wet, searing path down her jawline to the sensitive dip of her neck. He bit softly, a sharp nip that made her arch her back, her breasts pressing firmly against the damp heat of his chest. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined you here? Lily’s head fell back against the tile with a soft thud. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Tell me. Dorian’s voice was a low rumble that vibrated against her skin. I imagined the way the water would make your skin shimmer. I imagined the sound of your voice w