Chapter 45 Mating Venom
Chapter Fourty Five
Mating Venom
— Sunday —
Tomas ushers me into the sitting room, his hand firm on my back. There’s something different about him tonight. The way his fingers press just a little too hard against my spine, the way his breathing comes faster, heavier—labored. I reach for him with my gift, skimming the edges of his emotions. But this time, he doesn’t shoot me that knowing look. He’s too entangled in his struggle for control to sense my intrusion.
He clicks on the side table lamp, filling the room with warm light. But it doesn’t ease the tension crackling in the air. The honey-blond wood and clean Danish lines seem absurd now—too charming, too ordinary for what’s coming.
His voice cuts through the homey atmosphere, edged with a darkness I’m not accustomed to. “Before we do this, we need to talk.”
Perched on the edge of our new bottle-green couch, I twist the hem of my sleeve and voice my fear. I’m getting better at this part. “So, you’re not… changing your mind, are you?”
His jaw tightens, eyes darkening. I’ve never seen them like this—ebony black, rimmed with gold, his pupils far too wide for the soft light in here.
“No.”
He crouches, leaning forward, his hands braced on his knees. He wants to reach for me, but he holds himself back. “But you need to understand, Trouble—this isn’t going to be like your other bonds. My wolf… he’s already pushing me, and I’m…” He runs a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “On edge.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Why?”
“The full moon. My wolf. You.” His lips twitch—a failed attempt at a smile. “You’re so close, and my wolf is desperate to get closer.”
His voice catches, low and raw. He drags a hand down his face, as if trying to hide some part of himself from me. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t know if I can control him.”
A memory drifts in, unbidden. Tomas’ wolf, snarling and wild, lunging at me when Grayson’s pod was destroyed. Those lupine eyes, furious and burning like the sun. For a split second, I’d been afraid he would rip me apart. But he hadn’t.
I wave the memory away, letting it fade into the shadows where it belongs. I replace it with one from last night.
Tomas’ wolf, sprawled beside me as we fell asleep. Grayson’s arm resting across my waist, his fingers idly buried in our wolf’s thick coat. Those same gilded eyes blinking at me sleepily—soft and content—as dawn crept over the horizon.
“I’m not afraid of you or your wolf, Alpha.”
His eyes flare, the metallic shine expanding like I’ve called him out—and I suppose I have.
“You smell like you’re supposed to be mine.” His voice is low, almost reverent, the words brushing over me like an invocation. Then his jaw tightens, and something darker seeps into his tone. “And believe me, I love Ben—I do—but right now? Goddess help me, I just want to bury his scent beneath mine.”
His words hit like a spark, igniting something restless and sharp in my chest. My breath catches, my fingers twisting in my sleeve. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond to that kind of naked need. Truly, I don’t know what to do with my own.
Then he moves.
He leans forward, his face pressing into the curve of my neck. A shiver races down my spine, sharp and electric, as his nose skims along my pulse, his scent wrapping around me. I exhale a sound that’s somewhere between a needy whimper and a repressed moan.
He freezes.
His breath hitches as he pulls back, hands curling into fists, fighting some internal battle. The air between us feels colder without him there, the ache of that distance catching me off guard. My chest tightens, and a frown tugs at my lips.
“Why did you stop?” My voice has an edge—whinier, needier than I mean it to sound.
“A night like this,” he starts, voice tightly controlled, “it brings everything to the surface. My wolf…” He exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. “He’s all instinct right now, and I’m struggling to keep the possessive, horny bastard in line.” He laughs hollowly and looks away.
I blink. Twice. “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know you didn’t. But when you touch me—when you look at me like that…” He trails off, his voice tight, teetering on the edge of control.
“Look at you like what?”
His gaze snaps to mine, sharper now, a low, rumbling growl vibrating from his chest. “Like you’re challenging us. Daring us to claim all that sweetness for our own.”
As the words leave his lips, his eyes drop, lingering on my mouth a beat too long. My tongue darts out, wetting them. The intensity in his gaze is impossible to ignore—a hunger barely leashed. A thrill races through me.
I laugh softly, brushing off his words like I don’t feel them sinking into my skin. “I’m not daring you. I’m inviting you… it’s a totally different vibe.”
“Are you going to drop your eyes, Trouble, or keep challenging me to do something?”
A slow grin tugs at my lips. I lean forward just enough to test him, my voice light and teasing. “Oh, you mean… like this?”
I know it’s wrong. They’ve all warned me not to mess with the wolf, but something inside me can’t help it. I enjoy it entirely too much—the way he teeters on the edge of control, the rare moments he falls.
I meet his eyes, and their aureate glow swells, his pupils shrinking into sharp, predatory slits. The change begins in his face—subtle at first, but inexorable. His nose elongates slightly, the lines of his mouth stretching into something that isn’t quite Tomas, isn’t quite wolf. That in-between monster that only he can become. Beautiful. Terrifying.
And then I’m not holding Tomas’ gaze anymore. I’m not challenging him, not teasing.
It happens so fast, I barely register it. One moment, Tomas is crouched in front of me, his body taut—all potential energy, ready to pounce. The next, I’m against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head, his chest pressing into mine with enough force to steal my breath—but not my sense of safety.
Wood smoke and apple, sharp and wild, flood my senses. A low growl rumbles through him, vibrating into me, setting every nerve on edge and making me ache. My body feels loose, liquid, fearless.
He looms closer, his form hunched yet towering, his height nearly matching Ben’s. He takes in mouthfuls of my scent, his breath hot and rough against my neck, each inhale fraying his control. His fingers twitch against the beadboard wall, claws half-formed, catching faintly in the grooves of the wood.
“Sunday,” he growls, my name low and vibrating through me. It’s thick with warning, edged with something raw. Almost pleading.
“You don’t understand what you’re inviting.”
One hand braces against the wall by my head, the other grips my hip—firm but careful. His fingers press tightly enough to hold me in place without hurting me.
My heart pounds like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, but the thrill of falling is stronger than the fear. The tension crackling in the air is almost unbearable, and I suddenly realize how far I’ve pushed him without even meaning to. But I want to see it. I want to see the moment the wolf takes over. I need to see him break for me. I want him desperate, dangerous, and out of control. I want to see the part of him no one else gets to see—the part that’s just for me.
“Alpha…” I whisper.
His breath hitches, like the word has burned its way through him. His head dips lower, the heat of his breath brushing my skin—a warning and a promise.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, edged with desperation. “Please, please, Love. Stop me.”
Love. The tenderness in his voice is a blade, sharper and more dangerous than any growl or bite. It’s the kind of emotion that could devour me whole if I let it.
I swallow hard, my hands trembling as I lift them to his chest. “Don’t stop,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.
He stumbles back, his eyes squeezing shut. It feels like something precious has been stolen from me. I clench my fists to keep from reaching for him, pulling him back, begging for more.
His chest heaves, breath ragged, his body trembling with the effort of keeping himself in check. I see it—every muscle wound tight, his control fraying at the edges. I don’t know if I want to help him hold it together or rip it all away.
“What happens now?” I whisper, my voice softer but no less desperate. The pack bed, the plan, everything else fades. All I want is for him to take me here, now, against the wall. Every other thought, need, and consideration feels unimportant.
His grip on my hip tightens, and I feel the faintest prick of claws.
“I’ll bite you,” he admits. “Shifted. My wolf… he won’t hold back. And the mating venom—” He pauses, jaw tight, his voice dropping lower, darker. “I don’t know how it will affect you.”
His eyes lock onto mine, unblinking. “I know what it does to shifters. Our animals take control. It brings our primal selves to the surface. We shift and run beneath the moon, hunt, and mate. It’s not something we can resist or direct.”
His gaze dips to my hand, where the engagement ring glitters in the lamplight. For a moment, his fingers hover near mine, brushing the cool metal before retreating. The ring is mine—a symbol of the love and commitment I understand.
But this—this raw, primal act beneath the moon—is his. It’s what his wolf needs. What he needs. To feel the same certainty I do when I look at the band on my finger.
He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “But you’re no shifter. I don’t know what it will latch onto—your magic, your instincts, or something else entirely.” His lips press into a thin line, and his voice dips lower. “What I do know is that it will change us both in ways we can’t anticipate.”
“Mating venom,” I murmur, my brain scrambling to categorize werewolf biochemistry in a way that makes sense. I file it beside vampire venom—because, honestly, what else comes close? For a brief moment, I examine the life choices that brought me here.
His lips twitch, not quite a smile. “It merges our magic—ties you to me in a way nothing else can.” His voice lowers, almost a growl. “Once it’s done, there’s no going back. It’s potent, Sunday—an intoxicant, primal, and all-consuming. It doesn’t just bind our magic; it lays everything bare, throws us into a rut, and changes us fundamentally.”
The word hangs between us. Rut.
Ben’s mentioned it before—never in a good way, always something to avoid. Will it be like that time Shadow took me in the bathroom, leaving claw marks in the marble? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it—not the destruction, but the heat. I was a little out of my mind.
My pulse thrums in response, a steady drumbeat of anticipation and nerves. “And this won’t…” I struggle to find the right words, to step lightly around topics that might make him pull away. But in the end, I just say it—the last thing I need to know. “This won’t stop you and Grayson from bonding, will it?”
His expression flickers, like a gray cloud sliding in front of the sun—there, then gone. “I’m not sure that’s in the cards for us, Trouble. The bond between Gray and Xavier is already improbable. Shifters and vampires aren’t meant to form connections like that.” His voice is soft, tinged with something I can’t quite name. Not jealousy—nothing so simple or predictable. It’s quieter, like bittersweet reverence.
Sehnsucht. The word drifts into my mind unbidden, a fragment of memory from one of Professor Thorne’s many lessons. A longing for something untouchable—too beautiful to give up, too distant to feel truly yours. That word is Tomas, I think—this quiet ache he carries. I can’t understand it fully. Not yet. But maybe soon.
He meets my gaze again, quiet conviction in his eyes. “But I promise you, whatever happens between us tonight, it won’t change anything between me and your vampire.” He ends with a small, kind smile—fragile but sincere.
I let my empathy slip free, trailing its invisible fingers over him. His emotions brush against me like ripples on water. He’s okay. A little sad, yes. Patience fraying, but not desperate. His wolf isn’t heartbroken. He’s not giving up on Grayson, and he’s not using me as a substitute.
He exhales a sharp breath that shudders faintly, then straightens. The melancholy slips away, replaced by something sharper. Hungrier. His pupils expand, swallowing the gold in his irises. For a moment, I swear the air around him shifts, his form blurring at the edges—as though his wolf is just beneath the surface.
“Frankly, I don’t want to think about anyone but you tonight,” he says, his voice rough and layered with something deeper. Wilder. His claws glint faintly under the lamplight before he flexes his hands, the tips receding—but the reminder lingers.
“We can’t stay here,” he murmurs. “The bond needs the moon. My wolf…” He shakes his head, his voice dipping lower. “He won’t allow it any other way. We need to be outside, under her light.”
The weight of his words settles in my chest. I glance toward the door, my pulse thrumming as the tension between us sharpens. Outside feels right. These walls are far too small to contain him.
“Bond me, Big Daddy Wolf,” I say, my voice lighter than I feel. Humor is a good mask for nerves, right?
Except Tomas doesn’t laugh. That hungry, golden gaze makes my stomach flip, and I know—there’s no going back.