Chapter 33 Vane
VANE
Sunlight filters through unfamiliar curtains, casting a warm glow across Lia's bedroom. I blink awake, momentarily disoriented until I feel her warm body nestled against mine, her back pressed to my chest, my arm draped possessively around her waist.
Fuck.
The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water. I broke the twenty-four-hour rule.
In seven years of the Hunt, I've never once broken this cardinal rule.
The mandatory cooling-off period exists for a reason—to prevent hunters from getting too caught up in the intensity, to force a pause for reflection.
Even Xavier, who did end up driving to her place, ultimately adhered to the protocol.
Yet here I am, in Lia's bed merely eight hours since the Hunt ended, having completely disregarded the very rules I helped write.
One phone call. That's all it took. Lia admitted she couldn't sleep without me, and I was on my bike before the call even ended.
Lia shifts in her sleep, making a small sound of contentment as she presses closer to me. Her dark hair spills across the pillow, and the morning light highlights the marks I left on her skin.
I should feel some regret or concern about breaking the rules. Instead, all I feel is a bone-deep satisfaction. Rules exist for others, not for us. They never have. From the moment I saw her in that chemistry classroom, defying Lia Morgan has been impossible for me.
All it took was her voice on the phone saying she needed me, and I came running like a man possessed. Because that's exactly what I am. Possessed by this woman who's owned me since high school.
Lia stirs in my arms, her breathing pattern shifting from the deep rhythm of sleep to something quicker. Her body goes rigid against mine, muscles tensing beneath my fingertips. I tighten my grip, a primal response to keep her close.
“Shh, wildflower. It's me.” My voice is still thick with sleep.
Her head turns, those amber eyes wide and disoriented as they lock with mine. For a split second, confusion clouds her features.
Then recognition dawns across her face like a sunrise, and her body melts back against mine. The tension dissolves from her shoulders and her spine. She sinks into me as naturally as breathing.
“Vane,” she whispers. My name on her lips is the sweetest sound I've ever heard. “I thought... For a moment, I wasn't sure if it was real.”
I run my thumb across the mark I left on her collarbone—dark purple against her olive skin. “Does this feel real enough for you?” I ask, applying enough pressure to make her shiver.
Lia's lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she reaches back to thread her fingers through my hair. “Very real,” she murmurs.
That simple gesture—her reaching for me instead of away—sends a surge of satisfaction through me. “I half expected you to bolt again,” I admit, nuzzling into her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin mixed with mine. “Old habits and all that.”
She shakes her head slightly, pressing her body more firmly against mine. “I told you I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “I'm exactly where I want to be.”
I press a kiss to Lia's shoulder before reluctantly disentangling myself from her warm body. “Stay there, wildflower. I'll get breakfast started.”
Her eyes follow me as I pull on my boxer briefs. “You cook?”
“I've had years to develop skills I thought might impress you.” I lean down to kiss her forehead. “Besides, my brothers would've starved if I hadn't learned as a teen.”
In her kitchen, I find eggs, bread, and coffee. There's something intensely satisfying about being in her space like this. I hear the padding of her feet before I feel her arms wrap around my waist from behind, her cheek pressed between my shoulder blades.
“I could get used to this view every morning,” she murmurs.
I turn, lifting her chin with my finger. “You will. I'm moving you into my place tomorrow.”
Instead of the resistance I half-expected, she simply nods. “Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Just like that.” Her fingers trace the tattoo on my chest. “Fifteen years is long enough to be apart, don't you think?”
“You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that.”
While the coffee brews, I start on the eggs. Lia watches me, perched on the counter, wearing nothing but my discarded shirt from last night.
“Feed me?” She asks, her eyes darkening with desire. “Can I warm your cock while you feed me breakfast?”
My breath catches. Even after everything we've done, she still manages to surprise me. I approach her and cup her face, thumb brushing her bottom lip. “You want to be my good girl this morning?”
She nods. “I want to feel you in my pussy while you take care of me.”
I grab the plate of food and pull Lia onto my lap, positioning my chair next to the small kitchen table instead of facing it. This way, I can easily reach the plates of food I've prepared while keeping her exactly where I want her.
“Come here, wildflower,” I murmur, guiding her legs to straddle me. I slide my hands up her thighs, my fingers digging into her hips as I position her over me. “Slow and easy now.”
Lia's eyes lock with mine as she sinks down, taking me fully inside her. The heat of her envelops me, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to thrust up into her warmth.
“Stay still,” I command softly. “Just keep me warm inside you while you eat.”
She nods, wrapping her arms around my neck and adjusting herself until she's perfectly settled on my lap, her body connected to mine in the most intimate way possible.
Unlike at the feast, where she couldn't see my reactions, now her face is inches from mine, allowing me to watch every flicker of pleasure cross her features.
I reach for a piece of toast, spreading butter followed by honey before bringing it to her lips. “Open.”
Lia obeys, taking a small bite. A droplet of honey catches on her lower lip, and I lean forward to lick it off, savoring the sweetness mixed with her taste.
“Good girl,” I praise, feeding her another bite while my free hand strokes her back under my shirt. “So perfect like this.”
She shifts slightly, causing us both to inhale sharply at the sensation. The intimacy of this moment—her warmth surrounding me, her weight on my lap, the domesticity of feeding her—strikes me as something I never thought I'd have.
“You feel so good,” I murmur, reaching for a strawberry and pressing it against her lips.
I can't maintain this slow pace anymore. The sight of Lia's lips closing around the strawberry, the little sounds she makes as she savors the taste—it's too much.
“Enough teasing,” I growl. “On the table. Now.”
Her eyes widen with excitement as I clear the dishes with one sweep of my arm. Plates clatter but don't break as they skid to the other side of the table. I spin her around, bending her over the table's edge, my shirt riding up to expose her perfect ass.
“So fucking beautiful,” I murmur, dropping to my knees behind her. I spread her legs wider, exposing her wet pussy to my hungry gaze. “Can never get enough of eating this pretty cunt.”
I dive in without preamble, my tongue flat against her center before circling her clit. Lia cries out, her hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth tabletop. I grip her hips, holding her in place as I devour her.
“Vane,” she gasps. “Oh god, yes.”
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her shudder. When I feel her thighs begin to tremble, I double my efforts, sucking her clit between my lips while my fingers pump steadily.
“Come for me, wildflower,” I command against her flesh. “Let me taste how much you need me.”
Her back arches beautifully as she shatters, crying out my name as her walls clench around my fingers. I work her through it, not relenting until she's whimpering from sensitivity.
I stand, positioning myself behind her, the head of my cock teasing her entrance.
“Please,” she begs, looking back at me over her shoulder.
I thrust forward in one smooth motion, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation.
“Fuck, Lia,” I pant, setting a punishing pace. “Never letting you go again.”
Her body takes me perfectly, as if she were made for me. I grip her hips hard enough to leave marks, claiming her with each thrust.
“Fill me,” she pleads. “Fill my pussy with your cum, Vane.”
Those words push me over the edge. I drive deep inside her one last time, emptying myself with a guttural groan, marking her from the inside in the most primal way possible.
As the last pulses of pleasure subside, a singular clarity washes over me.
Fifteen years of waiting, of watching, of wanting—all for this moment of perfect convergence.
She ran once, but the Hunt is over now. Whatever game we began in my high school bedroom has finally reached its checkmate, with both king and queen still standing on the board.