Chapter 39 Felix
Felix
“Okay,” I whispered back, the word barely a breath between us.
I should have been exhausted. Should have collapsed like Rory did the moment we reached safety. My body and mind had been through hell. But adrenaline still coursed through my veins like liquid fire, keeping me hyperalert and wired.
Kit’s hands found the hem of my hoodie, fingers tracing slow circles up and down my spine through the thick fabric, each gentle touch lighting little fires beneath my skin.
“So…” I swallowed hard. “How does it work?”
His hands stilled for a moment. “Traditionally, we mark our mate’s neck.” His voice dropped to a rumble that sent my stomach aflutter. “With our teeth.”
My hand flew instinctively to the spot where Kit had bruised my skin, fingertips finding the faint marks that had long since faded.
“And… that makes it official? Seals the bond, or whatever?”
Kit’s eyes searched my face, thoughtful. “I… I actually think it’s deeper than that. More than just marking.” His thumb brushed across my collarbone. “I think all we need to do is choose it. Choose each other.”
I bit my lip, worry creeping in despite the want coursing through me. What if it didn’t work? What if we discovered that Kit had been wrong all along? That his attraction to me had been a glitch, nothing more.
Kit responded by lifting me from the sofa in one fluid motion, carrying me the few steps to the massive rug spread before the fire. He laid me down as if I were made of crystal, then stretched out above me.
The luxurious rug was impossibly soft beneath my back—thick, plush fibres that seemed to cradle every curve of my body. Kit hovered over me, his dark hair falling across his forehead.
Without thinking, I reached up and brushed the strands back, then let my palm settle against his jaw, fingertips stroking through the coarse hair of his beard.
“Can I?” His hands found the hem of my hoodie again.
I nodded, and he peeled the fabric away, tossing it aside before doing the same with my T-shirt. The firelight painted golden shadows across my exposed skin. Kit shrugged out of his own shirt, and then we were bare from the waist up, the heat of his chest pressing against mine.
I moved to shimmy out of my jeans, but his hand caught my hip.
“Wait,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. “Not yet.”
Kit settled more of his weight on me, skin to skin, the solid warmth of him pinning me to the rug. His forearms bracketed my head, and I was completely surrounded by him—his scent, his heat, the careful control in every line of his body.
The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. Like he was memorising every detail of this moment, searing it into his memory. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes more black than stormy grey, and my reflection stared back—flushed and wanting and completely his.
Something tugged inside my chest. Not physical exactly, but deeper. That invisible thread being pulled taut again.
“Breathe with me,” Kit whispered, his mouth inches from mine.
In.
His chest rose beneath my palm, ribs expanding against my touch. My own lungs followed without thought, drawing air deep.
Out.
The exhale shuddered between us, warm breath mingling in the narrow space. Kit’s eyes never left mine, watching as my breathing faltered, then steadied.
In.
This time we moved together. His inhale pulled mine along with it, some invisible current connecting us chest to chest, breath to breath.
Out.
The rhythm settled between us—natural now, inevitable. Like we’d been breathing as one for years instead of moments.
Then I heard it—the steady rhythm of Kit’s heartbeat. Which should have been impossible over the crackling fire and howling wind, but there it was, strong and sure beneath my palm. And somehow, impossibly, it was matching mine. Beat for beat, like we shared the same pulse.
“How are you doing this?” I breathed.
Kit’s lips curved in a small smile. “I’m not. We are.”
Our breathing shifted, becoming opposites without any direction from either of us. As I inhaled, Kit exhaled. As he drew breath, I released it. Back and forth in perfect counterpoint, like some cosmic dance we’d always known the steps to.
The tugging in my chest deepened with each breath, becoming a pull I couldn’t ignore. I found myself drawing in deeper and deeper lungfuls of air, greedy for something I couldn’t name.
Kit leaned closer, until his mouth was almost touching mine, and I could feel his warm breath against my lips as I inhaled. Like he was breathing life into me with each exhale, pouring something essential from his lungs into mine.
The thread coiled around my heart wound tighter with every shared breath, connecting us in ways I didn’t have words for. My entire world narrowed to this—Kit’s eyes, his breath mingling with mine, the overwhelming certainty that something fundamental was shifting between us.
Then it happened.
The thread didn’t just pull—it fused. Like molten metal cooling into an unbreakable bond, or a frequency finally tuning to perfect clarity after static.
The connection settled deep within with a heat that flushed through me.
And I could feel him. Oh, how I could feel him.
Not his physical presence, but something deeper.
The depth of his love, his devotion to me since the day we met, the fierce protectiveness that had driven him to stalk me.
“I can feel it,” I whispered in wonder, tears pricking my eyes. “Kit, I can feel you. Properly this time.”
Kit’s hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones. “How does it feel?”
I opened my mouth to answer, to try to capture the sensation in words—the completeness, like I’d been walking around missing something vital and suddenly discovered it had been there all along. Like coming home after a lifetime of wandering. Like finding the other half of my soul.
But there were no words big enough for this feeling.
Instead, I pulled his head down and kissed him.
The moment our lips touched, the world exploded into light and sensation.
I felt like I was floating, weightless and perfect and exactly where I belonged.
Every nerve ending sang with electricity, and Kit’s emotions flooded through me—love so fierce it stole my breath, gratitude that made my chest ache, and a bone-deep satisfaction that whispered mine, finally mine.
When we broke apart, both gasping, I could see the same wonder reflected in Kit’s eyes. The same overwhelming sense of rightness.
“Felix,” he breathed against my lips. “Sweetheart. My mate.”
The tears came then, silent but fierce, spilling over his lashes and down his cheeks. I reached up to catch them with my thumbs, tasting salt when I kissed his cheek.
“Happy tears?” I asked.
“The best tears,” he confirmed.
His expression changed—wonder giving way to something else. Something… hungrier. His nostrils flared slightly, and his grip on my face tightened. “Fuck, Felix.” His voice had dropped to that gravelly tone. “Your scent…”
Before I could ask what he meant, Kit’s mouth was on my throat, lips and tongue moving against my skin with desperate hunger. He nuzzled into the crook of my neck, breathing me in like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning.
His tongue dragged across my pulse point, hot and wet and claiming, and my back arched off the rug involuntarily.
He moved lower, mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin with single-minded devotion.
Along my collarbone, down to the hollow of my throat, across the sensitive skin just above my heart.
“You taste even better now,” he groaned against my skin, the rumble of it seeping into my bones.
“What do I taste like?”
Kit lifted his head, sparkling eyes meeting mine as his tongue swept across my chest in one long, deliberate stroke. My skin burned for more, heat rushing to thicken my cock.
“Like the forest after rain, when I’m all alone, just me and the trees,” he murmured. “Like happiness. Like warm vanilla.” His lips curved in something too sharp to be called a smile. “Like mine.”
That growl reprogrammed something fundamental in my code.
“And now,” Kit continued, settling more of his weight on me. “I’m going to make sure you smell like me for the rest of your life.”
His mouth found my nipple without warning, sucking hard enough to short-circuit my nervous system. Then his teeth grazed the sensitive peak—not quite a bite but sharp enough to turn my spine into molten copper.
I screamed.
The inhuman sound that tore from my throat belonged to something wild.
It bounced off the wooden walls until I slammed my hand over my mouth.
Kit pulled back with a wolfish grin that was all predator, all satisfaction.
“Have you found something else for your list?” he asked.
Kit’s teeth closed around my nipple again—not gentle this time, but a deliberate bite. His other hand found my neglected nipple, fingers pinching and rolling until I was writhing beneath him, broken sounds spilling from my lips.
Pain alchemised into something that made me arch off the rug like I’d been struck by lightning, my hips grinding up against him without permission from my brain. My cock strained against my jeans, denim turned to sandpaper against overheated skin.
“Please,” I gasped, hands fisting in his hair. “Please touch me.”
Kit’s mouth curved against my chest, still worrying my nipple with his teeth. “I am touching you.”
His hand traced a slow descent down my body, fingertips painting invisible fire across my skin until my muscles jumped and clenched. The bastard knew what he was doing.
“My dick,” I groaned, bucking my hips up in desperation. “Touch my—”
The words died as Kit stripped my jeans and underwear away with movements so fluid they seemed choreographed. Then his fingers—calloused and burning and perfect—wrapped around my cock.
Relief detonated through me. My vision fractured into white static as his thumb swept across the head, spreading the slick gathered there until every stroke became silk.
Then Kit’s mouth descended, and my world ended.