Chapter 19
CHANTEL
I wake to the feeling of warm fingers grazing the length of my arm. A solid, steady presence beneath me drags me back to consciousness, and when I open my eyes, confusion clouds my thoughts.
There are no windows in this room, so the level of darkness hasn’t changed. But judging by how rested I feel, I have to assume I’ve been asleep for hours.
I’m still sprawled across Bran’s chest, and my first instinct is to panic. But when he feels the tension gathering in my body, his grip on me tightens.
“It’s okay, Chantel.”
I release a ragged breath, unsure of what to say.
“You keep calling me that.”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
The way he says it makes me paranoid he knows it’s not.
“It’s supposed to be Morrigan when we’re here,” I deflect.
“Morrigan the raven goddess,” he murmurs the words against my throat.
My brows knit together. “Raven?”
It’s been so long since I chose the alias, I only remember her as a dark goddess, which seemed fitting at the time.
Bran hums an acknowledgment, but doesn’t elaborate, so I’ll have to look it up later. For now, I’m more distracted by the naked man beneath me, who at some point must have covered us over.
I’m wondering whether morning still counts as our night together, though I’m not even sure what time it is. At least, not until my phone rings across the room. I set it to Do Not Disturb until ten, so it has to be later than that.
“It’s been doing that for a while,” Bran remarks.
I grimace, realizing I should have set an alarm.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Have somewhere to be?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I answer apologetically. “I have a thing with my friends. Not that I don’t want to go, it’s just, I didn’t really think through the timeline.”
Before he can say anything, another flood of notifications comes in, and I groan.
“I should check that.”
He nods, and I gather the sheet around my chest. “Mind if I take this?”
“Feeling shy?” A hint of amusement touches his voice.
I know it’s a little ridiculous, considering I’ve been lying naked on top of him all night.
“Just…you know.” Super fucking awkward.
A smile teases his lips, and I take that as a yes, crawling away with the sheet to grab my bag.
I’m expecting a bunch of messages asking where I am and why I’m late.
But when I unlock my phone, I find the missed calls were from an unknown number, and the other notifications are from a group chat with my friends.
I scan them briefly to make sure there’s not a real emergency, then check the time.
Technically, I still have about forty-five minutes before I have to leave if I want to get to the island on time.
As I’m considering it, I glance over my shoulder and let my gaze roam Bran’s naked body. His eyes are on me, the rigid length of his cock lying heavy against his abdomen.
I don’t have to ask if he’s thinking about one last time too.
I send the girls a quick text with a few eggplant emojis, letting them know I can’t talk right now.
As I walk back to the bed, I’m already questioning my choices, because I’m sore as hell from the battering Bran gave me. But there’s no way I’m missing out on the last chance I’ll ever get with him.
“I have twenty-ish minutes,” I tell him. “Then I have to take a shower and go.”
“Let’s make it thirty.”
I stare at him in question.
“I’ll fuck you in the shower,” he rumbles. “And I’ll wash you while I do it.”
Thirty minutes ends up being forty, which is…whatever. I don’t like being late, but my friends won’t care if I’m a few minutes behind.
After our shower, Bran gives me some privacy to take off my mask and wash my face. It’s not really necessary, considering he already knows who I am, but it feels too vulnerable having it off.
When I’m finished cleaning up, I do what I can with the bite mark on my neck. I only brought the basics for makeup, and it isn’t doing much to cover it. Fortunately, the other imprints on my thighs and breasts aren’t visible beneath the dress I’m wearing.
Bran left his claim all over me, including the chain necklace that’s still locked around my neck.
As it occurs to me that he’ll probably need to take it off, a hollow ache settles in my chest.
It’s ridiculous.
One night. That’s all this was.
Emotions aren’t part of this arrangement. We’re just two strangers with insane chemistry, and this rush I experience every time I see him doesn’t mean anything.
It can’t.
Steeling myself with a breath, I open the bathroom door and step back into the suite.
Bran occupies the chair across the room, a man perfectly at ease in nothing but a pair of black briefs. I have to force myself to focus on his mask, because if I look at his body again, I’ll never make it to the island.
“I guess this is where we go our separate ways.” I try for a smile, but it falls flat.
“Come here,” he says, voice dipping low.
The logical part of my brain tells me that’s a bad idea, but the reckless part of me isn’t listening.
We deserve a goodbye, and going without one won’t make this any easier.
I walk over to the chair and set down my bag. He pulls me closer until I’m standing between his legs. His gaze tips up as he looks at me, and even though I can’t see the depths of his eyes, I feel the war waging behind them.
He’s wrestling with something, and if I had to guess, it’s that this has to be the end. I don’t know what his life outside of here is like, but he deserves more than cloaked meetings and my emotional baggage.
He was reluctant to meet with me again, and I can’t blame him. He probably has an endless list of women who can offer him more than this.
Swallowing the conflict rising inside me, I revert to humor, because it’s easier than sorting through whatever the hell this feeling is.
“Could you not have had at least one terrible flaw?”
When he doesn’t smile, I think he really has ruined me. Because the knot in my throat feels permanent, and even now, there’s a small part of me that wants to ask him to keep me.
As if he could.
As if any of this could ever work when I’m…me.
Slowly, he rises to his feet, fingers ghosting over my jaw as he claims my mouth in a drugging kiss. It sends a million tiny sparks through me, even as pressure builds behind my eyes.
I don’t want it to end, and I really, really don’t want to cry in front of him. But, inevitably, he releases me, his gaze drifting to the silver chain against my throat.
The keys are in his trouser pocket, but he doesn’t retrieve them, and I don’t ask him to.
“I do have at least one terrible flaw,” he murmurs.
“What is it?” I rasp.
He drags his thumb over the lock around my neck, a thread of possession darkening his voice.
“Goodbye, dea.”