Chapter 33 Aniyah #4
His moan vibrated against my skin, making the searing pain at my lower back fade to a warm ache. I arched into him, silently begging him to take more. Take everything.
I could feel him stiffen behind me, body coiled like he might bend me over and take me right there in front of everyone, but instead, he reined himself in, withdrawing his fangs and licking the wounds closed. Then he turned me around so that I faced him.
He cupped my face, eyes softened with rare tenderness, and kissed my forehead. When he spoke, his accent curled around the words like silk.
“You’re my whole world. Nothing can distract me from you, my darling.” He smiled, exhaling like he’d been holding that in forever. “I’m so glad I moved here.”
My brows jumped. “Moved? When?”
His smile became cocky. “Darling,” he said, the reprimand teasing, “the moment I left this building after our tour, I had my assistant find me an apartment and moved most of my work here. To New York.”
“Where?” I asked, still reeling from this development.
He grinned wide, fangs showing and all.
“Right below you. I made the other owners an offer they couldn’t refuse and took the whole floor. Want to make your apartment into a duplex?”
Joy lit through me like lightning. I launched into his arms, peppering kisses along his neck. With a laugh, he spun me around in his embrace.
“If I knew real estate would get me this reaction,” he murmured against my skin, “I’d have bought you the whole damn building.”
He finally set me down, glancing toward the others.
“Let’s finish this, darling. You’re almost there.”
Lucus was right. I smoothed my dress, blew him a kiss, and sauntered toward Maso.
He was waiting, hands clasped behind his back, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing anchoring him. I felt the illusion slip over my skin, transforming me without a word.
For a split second, I couldn’t look. Fear prickled at my spine—not fear of him, but of what I might see.
What if the version he craved wasn’t the woman I was now, but the youthful echo I’d outgrown?
Do you know what's more brutal than being compared to another woman?
It's being measured against a version of yourself you can never return to. A ghost in your own skin.
Somehow, he must have known the feelings that were whirling around inside me because, without hesitation, his arms reached for me, folding me into a hold so fierce and grounding I had no choice but to open my eyes. I had to see what he saw, what he wanted, without confronting him just yet.
Slowly lifting my lids, I gazed upon what my magic had to show me.
The first thing I noticed was my wings, unfurled and shifting behind me like sheer silk drifting in the wind.
My arms clung to him, sheathed in familiar black sleeves.
My heels were tall and wicked. I knew, without even looking, I’d see that tight black mini skirt.
It was the outfit from the shipping container. From our moment.
“Do you see me now?” His voice cut through my thoughts, right next to my ear, rough and reverent.
“Do you see what I want? What I crave?” He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, those electric-blue eyes burning into mine.
“I want her. The woman who shattered my chains. The one who told me I didn’t have to hide or feel disgust about what I am. She’s my dream. My mate.”
At the same moment, our golden threads rose, called forth by the truth in his voice, and met mid-air, spiraling together like they'd been chasing each other through lifetimes. They didn’t tangle. They claimed.
“All of me,” I whispered, voice cracking with the weight of it, “you’ll have all of me.” A promise. A prayer. A challenge.
His hands dropped to my ass, fingers shifting into claws as he hoisted me up.
My legs wrapped around him on instinct, and our mouths crashed together.
It was all hunger and heat. Tongue, teeth, growls.
No elegance. Just the raw ache of want and the wildness that came with belonging to someone, fully and finally.
His claws scored across my backside, the delicious pain fleeting compared to the burning mark at the base of my spine. I arched into him, chasing every brutal scrape and rough squeeze like I needed it to breathe.
We stayed tangled like that for a few more seconds, devouring, claiming, until he finally let me slide back to the ground.
His head dropped to my shoulder, breath coming in ragged gulps as if I’d pulled the wind from his lungs.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and kissed the side of his head, smiling at the way he purred like a spoiled cat. What a cute werewolf I have.
The spell was short-lived. A sharp heat pricked my senses, an intrusive weight settling on my skin.
I glanced up to find Rasmus watching. Red eyes glowing, they were locked on me with unyielding focus.
Every shift of my hips, every tremble in my breath, every kiss still blooming on my lips, he saw everything.
Nothing about his gaze felt casual; it never did.
Giving Maso another kiss against his head, I shifted, my hand dragging down the length of his arm before slipping from his grasp. My body moved toward Rasmus like I was tethered to him, his soul reeling me in with a pull I couldn't resist.
His eyes locked onto mine, glowing, hungry, almost fevered, as if seeing me walking toward him was everything he'd ever wanted.
Once I reached him, he trembled. His gaze roamed over me, starved, needy, before it shifted, trying to focus on everything at the same time.
“Are you ready, my star?” he asked, his voice low and guttural. His words were laced with hunger, his breath a caress, a vow.
When I turned toward the mirror, I staggered back with a gasp, but his body was already behind mine, chest pressed to my spine, his arms a cage of lust and devotion.
“Do you see it?” he whispered. “How you shine in everything. A masterpiece in motion.”
This was the first time in my life I’d ever witnessed something like this, seen my power like this.
The illusion shimmered continuously, cycling through every version of myself he’d ever seen. Every outfit. Every mood. Every hairstyle. A kaleidoscope of my essence, it rippled over my body as a living memory reel.
It wasn’t one version he craved, it was all of me. Every evolution, every shade of my magic, every facet of my soul. It was all captured and played on repeat like I was the only thing that ever existed in his universe.
Behind me, he shivered, lips brushing the shell of my ear before he dropped to his knees like he couldn't take it anymore. His arms wrapped around my thighs, and he pressed his forehead to me, a penitent man before his altar.
“My star. My light. My goddess.”
When I looked down, his eyes were wild with obsession, his need carved into every inch of his face. It knocked the breath out of my lungs. He didn’t just want me. He worshipped me. His craving wasn’t just lust. It was sacred. Fatal. Everlasting.
The golden thread from his soul snapped toward mine, reaching upward, straining like it had waited across dimensions for this exact moment. My own thread surged out with no resistance. They collided in the space between us and fused with a force that cracked something deep inside me.
The burn at my back flared hot, but this time, it spread, flooding through me.
I felt it when the final mate bond broke the spell. The tattooed curse that had shielded my soul shattered like glass, and something primal unlocked inside me.
Complete.
That was what I felt.
I was full in the way stars feel when they’re just about to go supernova. Full like I had finally stopped holding back parts of myself. My soul sang. My magic hummed. I was no longer fractured but whole in a way I didn't know I needed.
I looked down at my mate, my Ras, caught by his trembling lips and ragged breath. His hand trailed between my thighs. “Please,” he rasped, his fingers digging into my skin. “I can’t take it anymore. Please let me taste my mate.”
Running my fingers through his dark hair, I felt the truth of our bond burning hot between us, echoing his desperation.
How had he lived with this hunger for so long? How had he kept it from consuming him?
I shifted, pulling my power back like a vacuum, and reality settled in the space around us. Even with my magic gone, I had five pulsing threads inside of me. Their need, acceptance, love, hunger, all of it flooded my senses.
Opening my stance, I pulled the front panel of my dress to the side, revealing my bare self to him like an offering. His gaze dropped to my thighs, tongue flicking across his lips with barely leashed need.
“Taste me, mate,” I whispered, sin and prayer combined. “I’ve been waiting for you.”