Chapter 10 #2
I try to breathe, to focus, but it’s useless. The mate bond is thrumming, electric under my skin, and it feels like Seth cracked open a dam I didn’t even know existed. And now, everything is rushing out, drowning me in a need I can’t control.
By the time I reach my quarters, my hands are shaking so hard I can barely open the door. I stumble inside, desperate to collapse in the solitude of my room, to find some way to claw back control—
And I freeze.
Peonies. Dozens of them. Their delicate, blush petals spill from vases and scatter across every surface.
The air is thick with their scent, sweet and soft, wrapping around me until my chest tightens.
On the table near my bed sits a box from my favorite bakery, ribbon tied neatly, cakes and sugared pastries visible through the top, arranged like an offering.
For a few minutes, I’m stunned enough to be forced out of the haze. My wolf goes quiet, confusion pushing back against the lust burning in my veins. My breath hitches as I take in the sight, my mind spinning.
Did Zane do all this?
But even as the thought forms, doubt coils sharp and uneasy in my stomach.
Then, the door opens behind me.
I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. His scent hits me first—rich, dark, intoxicating. Seth. My pulse stutters, heat flooding me all over again.
“Do you like it?” His voice is low, a rasp of gravel and heat that slides down my spine like a caress.
My hands clutch the edge of the table. The sweet aroma of the peonies is everywhere, mixing with his scent, overwhelming and heady. It wraps around me until I can’t tell where the flowers end and he begins.
“Did you…do this?” The question comes out unsteady, almost childlike.
“Yes.” His answer is immediate, unflinching.
I swallow hard, eyes blinking at the vases of flowers, the pastries gleaming under their bakery wrap. Turning to face him, I ask, “Why?”
Seth moves then. Slowly. Intentionally. The silence between us feels like a held breath. My heart hammers as he closes the distance, each step deliberate, predatory but restrained.
By the time he’s in front of me, my backside is almost against the desk. He lifts his hands to my shoulders—not roughly but carefully—his thumbs brushing my collarbone before sliding lower.
“I heard you like peonies,” he murmurs, voice dark velvet. “And those pastries from the capital.” His fingers find the hem of my shirt, toying with it, lifting the fabric up an inch at a time as his knuckles skim the bare skin of my stomach. “I wanted to make you happy.”
The heat of his touch ignites every nerve in me. My wolf preens at his words, arching, greedy, while my human mind reels, trying to understand this man who just pinned me in a corridor and now has filled my room with flowers.
“You—” My voice breaks. “You wanted to make me happy?”
“Yes.” His eyes never leave mine. “I want your approval.”
That sentence lands in me like a stone in deep water. My lips draw apart, but for a heartbeat, nothing comes out.
“Why?” It’s a whisper, but the question is everything—fear, confusion, want—all rolled into one sound.
Seth’s fingers slide higher, bringing the shirt up to just under my breasts. He stops there, his hands warm against my ribs. His gaze holds mine, unblinking, a quiet intensity in his green eyes that makes my breath catch.
“Because,” he says finally, voice raw and steady, “I belong to you now.”
My wolf surges at the confession, triumphant, while my human self reels, completely stunned. My skin feels too hot, my heart too loud, my body swaying between resistance and surrender.
“You belong”—my throat grows tight—“to me?”
His thumbs stroke small circles on my sides, grounding me, even as his eyes burn with that intent. “Yes.”
For a moment, there is only the heat of his hands and the weight of his words. Everything else falls away.
His fingers linger at the hem of my shirt, holding it just beneath my breasts, waiting.
My chest rises and falls too fast, my lungs straining, and when I don’t stop him, he takes his time peeling the fabric upward.
His knuckles slowly graze my skin until the shirt slides over my head and falls, forgotten, to the floor.
The air is cool on my bare skin, but his eyes burn hot enough to sear me. He drinks me in slowly, his gaze trailing over every part of my body before coming back to my face.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says, his voice calm and clear. “Every time you walk away, every time you avoid me, I burn. But now, you’re here. Let me show you what you are to me.”
My mouth opens, but words fail me, the fog in my head thickening with every beat of silence between us. “Seth…”
His hands find my waist, anchoring me. “I told you,” he murmurs, softer now, though edged with iron. “I belong to you. And I’ll prove it.”
Then, he drops to his knees.
The sight steals the breath from my lungs.
Seth Rowan—Commander of the King’s army, second only to the throne, one of the most dangerous men alive—is kneeling before me.
His hands skim down my sides, settling at my waist, and he presses his mouth to my stomach, a slow kiss that makes my muscles flutter.
“First,” he says against my skin, trailing lower, “I’m going to worship you.” His lips find the curve of my hip, my navel, the delicate skin just above my waistband. Each kiss is reverent, but the hunger in them makes me quiver. “At your feet, where I belong.”
My knees nearly buckle when his fingers undo the last of the fastenings and ease my pants down, baring me to his gaze. Green fire flares in his eyes as he looks up at me, locking his gaze with mine.
“And then,” he growls softly, lips brushing the inside of my thigh now, “I’m going to show you that you belong to me.”
He hooks his hands around the backs of my thighs, tugging me closer until I have to lean against the desk for support. His shoulders wedge between my legs, spreading me open while I tremble on unsteady feet.
The first drag of his mouth over me is slow, a long stroke of his tongue that parts me and makes my breath catch. He licks deeper, the wet heat of his tongue pushing inside, filling me in a way that has me gasping, my head tipping back as I blink at the ceiling.
A broken moan escapes me as my thighs shudder, but his grip is unyielding, pinning me exactly where he wants me.
He plunges deeper with his tongue, fucking me with it, slowly and deliberately, each thrust matched by a low rumble vibrating through his chest. The sensation is maddening—wet and hot, filling me, teasing me, leaving me breathless.
Then he pulls out, drags his tongue upward, and swirls it around my clit in tight, merciless circles before diving back inside me again. The change in rhythm tears a cry from my throat, my nails digging into his scalp.
“Gods,” I gasp, nearly sobbing. “Seth—”
He only growls in response, burying his face deeper, tongue thrusting, curling, stroking every sensitive place inside me until my vision blurs. Every flick, every plunge, feels like it’s unraveling me, tearing my control to shreds.
My body is burning under his touch, my skin overly sensitized, making every lick sharper, every suck deeper. My wolf howls, exalting in his worship, while my human mind drowns, lost in the flood of sensation.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my soaked skin, his voice low, vibrating into me, “Sweet. Mine. All mine.”
Then his mouth seals around my clit, sucking hard while his tongue flicks fast and relentless, and the world shatters. My legs give out, my cry breaking free, raw from deep inside me. But his grip holds me upright, forces me to take it as pleasure rips through me, violent and consuming.
Wave after wave crashes over me, my body shaking, my thighs clamping around his head, but he doesn’t stop. He licks me through every tremor, drinking me in until I’m nothing but a trembling, moaning mess above him.
By the time he finally slows, my body is limp against the desk, chest heaving, slick dripping down my thighs. He looks up at me, his eyes blazing with hunger and possession.
He rises slowly, towering over me, his mouth shimmering with my juices. His gaze turns dark, feral—the look of a man who has been holding himself back for too long.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s on me, his hands sliding up my arms, pulling me against his chest. His mouth claims mine in a hard, devouring kiss that tastes like hunger and salt and everything he has just done to me.
My knees nearly buckle all over again, but his body is iron against mine, holding me steady.
Then, with a quiet growl, he turns me, bending me forward over the desk.
Cool wood meets my palms as he presses me down, his body following, heat and muscle closing around me.
One hand fists in my hair, tilting my head just enough for his breath to brush my ear; his other hand splays across my hip, securing me in place.
“You’ve run from me for weeks,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “You’ve avoided me, denied me…” His grip tightens, my cheek flat against the desk now, his chest flush against my back. “Now I’m going to teach you who your body belongs to.”
The words coil around me like chains. My wolf thrashes against them, not to escape—but to revel. My human side trembles, caught in the firestorm of fear and need, every nerve stretched tight.
Seth quickly rids himself of his clothes and presses against me again, the hard mass of his intent impossible to ignore. My breath stutters, body already reacting, already giving itself over before he has even begun.
“You feel that?” His whisper is molten in my ear, his hand tugging my hair just enough to draw a gasp. “That’s mine. You’re mine.”
He grinds closer, unhurriedly, calculatingly, dragging a moan out of me that I can’t repress.
“Say it,” he demands, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Say who owns you.”