Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Violet
F rom somewhere in the sea of haze and a deep, insane lust that rocks my very foundation, makes me fever-hot and slick between the thighs, the scent of oak anchors me.
I want him. It’s a desperation that makes my clit throb and swell, my pussy lips ache for a tongue, and my insides long for invasion, a swelling, a cure to the pain that gouges in.
But his scent. It’s there.
In me.
His voice is a low, cool stream of words that lick against the heat I can’t control myself.
And where’s Iris and Mom? She’s been here, too, a rock to cling to when my mind was gone, when the pain flared.
Thoughts fracture, and I press into him, his shirt damp with perspiration, and together our scents mingle into something so much more.
But there’s no flesh, just softness of sheets, and the voice is in my head.
“Here, Vi…” Iris presses something cold against my forehead, and I take her hand, and drift once more.
I catch pieces of Stephan’s voice. Iris’s cool disdain threaded with humor, and I think the worst has passed.
But I keep drifting.
The world is dark and warm and quiet when I wake next. Things shift in and out of focus and my body is hot, restless, needing.
This is home, and oak’s in the air and smells so good. He’s embedded in a blanket I cling to, and then he’s there. Stephan. My Stephan.
We’re naked, and he’s doing things to me, so much but not enough, like it’s nothing but air.
In that world, he’s now just there. And then we’re dressed. He slides under the covers, kissing my face, biting once more on the mark, and I push into him.
More.
I try to capture that sweet relief.
It feels good when you do that.
I don’t say these things out loud, but he hears. And he doesn’t say a word, just kisses me deep, then trails tiny licking kisses to my throat, and this time he bites hard, sucking and licking his mark and I moan.
Yes …
The pain flattens, stretches into pleasure, and I rub against him.
And then there’s nothing at all, and I go from dream to dreamless.
Stephan’s there again. Really there. I’m still feverish, but not like before, and coherent thoughts drift.
One thing hasn’t changed.
I still need him to give me some kind of relief. Or maybe I just want him to touch me. I shift against him and his arms tighten. Real. Solid. Not a dream.
“I’m only allowed in because your heat’s done, and I promised everyone I could control myself. So don’t tempt me,” he mutters.
“It’s not quite done.”
“We can’t have sex before the ceremony,” he whispers. “It would ruin you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Fuck…”
“It still hurts.”
“You’re going to get me killed.” Stephan slips his hand into my pajama bottoms, and I shudder as everything in me lights up. The ache deepens, and I rotate my hips for him.
“Holy fuck, Princess. You’re so hard to resist. Almost impossible.”
“Then don’t.”
“These promises are important.” He sucks in a sharp breath, and I feel his fight against himself, the shake of his resolve even as he strives to strengthen it .
But he touches me. Fingers gliding through the slick, leaving pleasure in his wake, and he doesn’t penetrate like he did when he claimed me, but he teases, and brings his thumb to my clit, rubbing and stroking until that pleasure builds, crescendos, and shatters into an orgasm that leaves me floating, depleted, in nothingness.
Except there’s an itch of need that remains. I need more of him. I need him to knot in me, to rut, and shatter me in a completely different way to satiate me.
I try to get his fingers in me, at least, rocking up against them.
All he does is remove his hand and fix my clothes, holding me tight.
“I can’t, Princess. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop, and these things are important… To your family, to you. I want…I want to be the mate you deserve.”
“Stephan…”
He hushes me, and then uses his Alpha voice in an equally low yet commanding tone. “Now go to sleep. You need to rest. And anything you need, it’s yours. I’m yours.”
“My mate.” And I pass out.
The next time I’m aware of things, properly aware, the room’s full of a soft green-hued light and I blink, looking around.
Next to me, Stephan’s on his side, his scruff on the wild side, the sexy muss of hair tousled like worried fingers moved through it, and he smiles, smoothing a strand of hair from my hot face .
“You’re a little cooler to the touch now. How are you, Princess?”
Oh, god, we’re not even in a bed. They set up something on the floor so comfortable I could burrow in and hibernate for years. A nest.
I shiver, aware something momentous happened…is happening? Aware of the incredible intimacy of the moment.
I lick dry lips, and he hands me a bottle of water.
“Not sure. Embarrassed?” I shrug, getting a little fuzzy again. “Am I meant to feel different?”
“I don’t know, do you?”
I try to sit up, but my head spins. “Maybe. Where’s Iris?”
“Napping. My aunt Pen adores her. Iris has been your fierce defender,” he says.
I try and get up again. Slower this time. “I should go to her.”
“Stay there. You were in heat for four days,” he says. “Let her rest. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, but I can’t eat.” A restlessness comes over me. “What day is it?”
“Day five, and you’re not in danger of me taking your innocence like you were days one through three. Do you remember anything?”
I don’t know when my sex dream was, but it sounds like he brought me to orgasm yesterday. Am I going to be this messy every time? This much trouble?
“Last thing I remember was calling you my mate. I’m sorry.” I bury my head in my hands, but his soft chuckle offsets the tendrils of panic and mortification .
“That was yesterday,” he says. “The earlier days were bad. You were in and out, and Iris and Pen had to stop me coming in. I would have… I would have fucked things up.”
I swallow, throat dry even though I just took a sip of water. He puffs up the pillows so I have some height, and then, when I say I need the bathroom, he leads me to the little en suite.
The en suite’s kept in the dark, but tiny fairy lights give me enough light to see, and the flickering candle emits the scent of soft spice.
My gaze catches my reflection in the mirror. My curls from the dinner party have all spilled free from their pins and fall in a frizzy mess around my face. There are dark spots under my eyes and my skin is ghostly pale.
Dear god, Violet. You look a fright.
When I go back in, embarrassment creeps in that Stephan’s seen me like this—a mess.
“Iris is still sleeping, but I have fruit and crackers if you change your mind about eating.”
He leads me back to the nest, my legs wobbling. “I can do this myself.”
“Yeah?” Stephan says. “But you have me to help.”
Once I’m settled, he slides in next to me, on top of the covers, and of everything, his heat, his presence, his scent, those are the most important things in the room. My stomach still hurts and my skin shivers with flashes of heat, but Stephan makes it better.
There’s something I should say to him. Something I can’t. That I think I’m falling in love with him. He makes me feel breathless, boneless, and safe. He calms and excites in equal measure .
But there’s a deeper level, and I’m sinking down into it.
Maybe I’m na?ve. I know I’d given up on the idea of mating for love a long time ago, but fate’s supposed to be a fickle mistress.
Is it possible she decided to drop love into my lap anyway?