Chapter 9 Damien #3
I study her face, searching for any crack in her resolve. Finding none, I release her chin and step back, running my hands through my hair in frustration.
“When?”
“Now. Before I change my mind.”
My wolf surges forward with a howl of triumph that vibrates through every cell in my body. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but her scent fills my lungs and makes my head swim.
“Are you sure?” I manage to ask, though my wolf snarls at the delay. My claws have fully emerged now.
She tilts her head, exposing the smooth column of her throat in an offering. “Yes. Just...be gentle.”
I can't promise that, but I nod anyway, cupping her face between my palms as I lean closer.
“It will hurt,” I warn, “but only for a moment.”
Her pulse leaps at her throat, a rapid flutter that draws me in like a beacon. I lower my head, nose skimming along the delicate skin there, breathing her scent in straight from the source. She trembles beneath me, a soft gasp breaking free from her parted lips.
“Damien...” My name falls from her mouth, breathless and desperate, snapping the final thread of my restraint.
“Now, kitten,” I growl against her skin. “Hold onto me.”
My fangs drop fully, razor-sharp canines aching with purpose. I grip her shoulders, anchoring us both as I angle my bite at the perfect spot.
She fists the fabric of my shirt, knuckles white with tension as she braces.
Her fear lingers sharp in the air, but beneath it something hotter unfurls—arousal blooming like a flower straining toward sunlight.
Her wolf pushes forward, flickering close to the surface, shimmering through her like fire threatening to catch.
“Together,” I whisper, and sink my teeth into her flesh.
Her blood bursts across my tongue. The taste floods my system like molten gold, every nerve ending lighting up as the ancient magic takes hold. Karina cries out, her back arching as pain and pleasure war across her features.
But she doesn't pull away. Instead, her own canines extend—smaller than mine but just as sharp—and she bites down on the same spot on my neck with surprising ferocity.
The world detonates. The tether snaps into place like a rubber band pulled too tight, connecting us in ways I never thought possible.
I feel her—not just her body pressed against mine, but the storm of her emotions. Terror tangled with arousal, confusion bleeding into something deeper. Her wolf calls to mine across the new link, a song of recognition that makes my beast howl with savage satisfaction.
The taste of her blood is intoxicating, addictive enough that I want more, but I force myself to stop. My fangs retract, leaving perfect crescents that will never fade, permanent reminders of what we’ve begun.
Karina releases my neck with a gasp, her mouth lowering to close her own mark on me. The contact sends a jolt of raw energy down my spine, and I have to brace against the wall behind her to keep from crushing her against me.
“Oh god.” Her breath hitches, shock etched across her face. “I can feel you inside my head.”
“The tether,” I confirm, holding myself steady while every cell hums with need. Her confusion filters through the link, but so does the calm pulse of her wolf, stretching beneath her skin even as her human mind tries to make sense of it. “It will fade if we don’t finish it, but for now…”
“You’ll know what I’m feeling.”
“Not just know.” I brush my thumb across the fresh indentations on her skin, and she flinches at the sudden spark of sensation.
The reaction hits me too, a rush of warmth spreading through the bond until it settles low in my chest. “Your pleasure. Your pain. Every thought that makes your pulse race.”
Her breath catches, and through the tether I feel the flutter of uncertainty melting into something softer—an ache that’s half wonder, half yearning. It moves through me like a current, filling the space between every heartbeat.
I draw in a slow breath, letting the connection settle. “And I’ll feel it too. Every flicker of emotion, every shift in your breathing, every tremor when the world feels too much.”
Her eyes close, and for a moment we’re suspended in something wordless—her warmth flowing through me, my steadiness echoing back to her. The tether hums, soft and alive, a rhythm that matches the rise and fall of her chest.
“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” she whispers.
“Neither did I,” I admit. The truth vibrates between us, the link alive with shared breath and heartbeat, blurring the edges where one of us ends and the other begins.
For a moment, everything is still. The air feels charged, soft light spilling across her skin as I trace the faint shimmer where the tether hums strongest. Her emotions ripple through me—warmth, exhaustion, the lingering thrum of something tender that neither of us dares name.
Her fingers brush my wrist, tentative, grounding. “It doesn’t hurt,” she murmurs. “It feels… alive.”
“It is,” I say quietly. “It’s us.”
But then the bond flickers, just slightly, and her pulse stutters. A sharp jolt of pain echoes through the link, hitting me at the same time she gasps. I look down and see it: a thin line of blood welling along her neck, bright against her skin.
“Karina.” Her name leaves me on a breath as I step closer, the metallic tang of blood already coating the back of my throat. My thumb hovers near the wound—skin torn, still too raw to touch.
Dark stains spread across the collar of her shirt where my teeth had broken through, red droplets tracing down her neck even though the injury should have begun to close.
I lean in before reason can stop me. My breath ghosts over the wound, and I let my tongue pass lightly across it, once, letting instinct and nature take over.
Her breath catches. She doesn’t move away. Between us, the connection hums to life—a low, thrumming pulse that syncs with my heartbeat. The bleeding slows; the flesh knits together, smooth again within seconds, leaving only a faint flush where the skin had been torn.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are half-lidded, her pulse slowing to something calm and steady. I rest my forehead against hers, my voice barely above a whisper. “There. It’s sealed.”
“Did you just lick me?”
Gods, she’s so fucking adorable with how little she knows about our world.
“Yeah,” I shrug before I take her hand, surprised when she doesn't resist. Through our connection, I sense her exhaustion and the adrenaline crash after everything she's experienced tonight. Her legs wobble slightly as I guide her.
“Where are we going?” Her voice sounds small, uncertain.
“You need to get cleaned up.” I push open the bedroom door.
My bedroom feels different with her in it. The space both too large and too small simultaneously. Her scent mingles with mine, creating something new that makes my wolf pace with satisfaction.
I lead Karina into the bathroom, my wolf still howling beneath my skin.
The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her face, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes and the blood trailing from my mark on her neck.
The sight sends another wave of satisfaction through me, even as I try to tamp it down.
“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the edge of the bathtub. She obeys without argument, her movements slow and careful, like she’s afraid any sudden motion might shatter what little composure I have left.
She’s not wrong.
I grab a washcloth from the cabinet and wet it with warm water.
Every part of me burns to press her down on the bathroom floor, to give in to what we’re both fighting so hard to resist. Instead, I kneel in front of her and wipe her neck with slow, deliberate care.
The blood has already dried, leaving a dark sheen across her skin.
The wound is closed—smooth now, her body already healing the damage I caused. Relief settles low in my gut, chased by something warmer when her eyes meet mine. She looks exhausted, her lashes trembling as she fights to stay awake.
“You should rest,” I murmur.
She nods, barely holding herself upright. I take her hand and help her to her feet, guiding her back toward the bedroom. The light from the hall stretches across the floor, catching in her hair as she moves, slow and unsteady.
“You’re not sleeping on that piece of shit couch,” I tell her, my voice rougher than I intend. “Take the bed.”
“Then where will you sleep?” she asks, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it anyway.
“With my mate.” The words come out before I can stop them—simple, absolute, true in a way that settles something deep inside me.
She plants her feet, trying to stand her ground even though she can barely keep her eyes open. “No. Either I take the couch, or you do.”
I should argue. I should let her win this one. But she looks too pale, too drained, and I’m done pretending this is something I can detach from. So I step forward, slip an arm under her knees and another around her back, and lift her before she can say another word.
She makes a small sound of protest, but it dies against my chest. Her head falls against my shoulder as I carry her the rest of the way to the bed.
The sheets are still warm from earlier, faintly scented with soap and cedar. I set her down carefully, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. She exhales, the tension melting from her body as she sinks into the mattress.
“Sleep,” I tell her quietly.
Her hand twitches once, reaching for the edge of the blanket, then stills. Within seconds, her breathing evens out.
I stand there, watching her. The moonlight spills across her face, softening every line, and something in my chest goes still.
She’s in my bed. Finally. And it makes me fucking happy.