Chapter 5 Rowan
Five
Rowan
The air mattress creaks beneath me as I roll over for what feels like the twelfth time since I went to bed over two hours ago.
I can’t sleep. My brain won’t shut off, won’t stop racing with thoughts about the bond, Norah, the Vaelthir, and what we’re going to do about it. What we absolutely cannot do about it.
After leaving Maeve’s cottage yesterday, we walked back to the campsite, charms tucked into our pockets. We agreed to tell no one of what happened, and to keep our charms on us at all times.
I managed to mostly avoid her for the rest of the day yesterday, and almost entirely today.
But it’s a small campsite, and it’s impossible to avoid her completely.
Yesterday, our eyes had locked and held from across the fire, flames dancing in my vision as I stared, unblinking, my wrist burning.
This morning, our hands had brushed while getting breakfast, and I swear I almost moaned, that small, brushing contact felt so good.
I’ve been trying to stay as busy as possible with work, and while she’s been doing the same, I can tell that my distance is hurting her.
That she wants to talk to me about what’s happening.
But I got us into this mess—the least I can do is keep my distance and try to get us out.
Besides, the only reason she’s been looking at me like that is because of the bond. It’s not real.
Even if I do like it when she looks at me like that, all soft and needy. Even if I like a hell of a lot.
The mark on my wrist throbs like a second pulse. I press my thumb into it, as if I could dig the damn thing out of my skin. It doesn’t help. Nothing helps.
I kick off the sleeping bag and stand, my body already moving before my mind catches up. The tent walls feel too close, the air too still. I yank on my jacket, shove my feet into my boots, and grab my flashlight. The beam cuts through the dark as I unzip the flap and step out into the night.
Cold air hits my face. I suck in a deep breath, but it doesn’t clear my head. If anything, it makes the hunger sharper. Worse.
I start to walk. The soft ground swallows the sound of my footsteps. The beam of the flashlight bobs ahead of me, illuminating roots and rocks, but I barely see them. My mind is full of her—Norah’s laugh, the way her nose scrunches when she’s thinking, the deliciously flared curve of her hips.
I stop. Lean against a tree. My cock is hard, aching, and I hate myself for it. I press the heel of my hand against the front of my sweats, but that only makes it worse. The bond twists inside me, alive and pulsing with need.
I’ve tried my best to ignore my feelings for Norah for months now, but the bond is intensifying them, making them impossible to let go of.
I wanted her before. Now I need her. Crave her. She consumes my thoughts. She consumes me. Any time I catch a glimpse of her—walking across the dig site, sitting by the fire, talking with someone else—my cock goes instantly hard and all I want to do is fuck and fuck and fuck.
For the first time in my adult life, I don’t feel like an educated, civilized man. The way she makes me feel is primal. I want to throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my tent, and bury my aching cock inside her until she screams my name for everyone to hear.
I tip my head back and look up at the stars, sucking in a breath of cold night air as it all churns through me—the guilt, the recrimination, the lust, the need, the faint hope that maybe we could…
No. No. I refuse to even let my mind go down that path.
The crunch of footsteps on damp earth cuts through the quiet. My pulse spikes, my heart a drumbeat in my chest. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Norah.
The bond pulls taut between us, a molten band under my skin. I left the charm in my tent. Stupid. Careless. Seems to be theme with me lately.
She stops a few paces away. “Oh.” She lets out a soft laugh, the sound shivering over my skin. “I guess I should’ve suspected I’d find you when I felt compelled to walk in this direction.”
Her head tilts, eyes bright the moonlight. She’s wearing a jacket that hugs her curves just right and leggings that leave little to the imagination. Her blond hair is down, falling around her shoulders in golden waves. I curl my hands into fists at my sides.
“Couldn’t sleep?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
She shakes her head. “Not a wink.”
I nod. There’s a beat of silence, as though the forest around us is holding its breath in anticipation.
“Do you have your charm?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Her lips press together. She shakes her head again. “I was expecting to be alone, so I left it in my tent.”
Fuck.
She steps closer. The bond tightens, a physical pull in my chest. I can smell her, all warm and sweet.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself. It’s as though the words are pulled from somewhere deep inside me.
Her breath hitches. Emotions play out across her face, and her gaze goes warm and soft as pink spreads across her cheeks. She takes another step. She’s close now. Close enough that I could reach out and—
“I’ve had a crush on you since the fall,” she blurts. “Before all of this bond stuff, I…” She trails off, huffing out a breath.
The admission hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. My pulse roars in my ears. I should step back. Should put distance between us. But I don’t. I can’t.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me, sweetheart.” The term of endearment flows off my tongue easily, naturally.
“Why not?” Her voice is small, hopeful, and she bites back a grin.
I exhale sharply. “Because I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
The silence between us stretches, and I’m so incredibly aware of her.
Of her breathing, her scent. The way the moonlight spills over her, turning her hair to liquid gold, her skin to something soft and touchable.
Fuck me, she’s young. Too young. And yet, the thought of walking away from her now feels like tearing out a piece of myself.
I can’t think straight. The bond pulses between us, a living thing, but it’s not just the magic—it’s her. The way she looks at me, so sweet and innocent. I can see the yearning in her eyes. Her admission that she’s had a crush on me for months doesn’t help. At all.
I step closer to her, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Norah…”
Her name is a warning. A plea. I don’t even know anymore.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just tilts her head up, those big brown eyes locked on mine. “You don’t have to protect me from this,” she whispers. “I know that’s what you think you have to do. That you feel guilty for the bond.”
My throat tightens. I want to argue. Want to tell her she doesn’t understand. But the words die before they leave my lips.
I stare at her mouth. Her lips are parted, soft and pink, and I can’t look away. She sways toward me, just an inch, but it’s enough. The bond flares between us, hot and insistent, like a heartbeat.
I should step back.
I don’t.
The last thread of my control snaps when she lets out a soft, trembling sigh that goes straight to my cock.
I don’t think. I just lean in.
The first brush of my mouth against hers is slow. Testing. A question. Her lips are even softer than I imagined. She makes a small sound, something between a whimper and a plea, and then her hands are fisting in my jacket, pulling me closer.
That’s all the answer I need.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting her. She moans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and I groan in response, low and rough. My hands move without thought—one braces against the tree beside her head, the other gripping her waist as I cage her in.
She arches against me, her body pliant and eager, and I press her back into the rough bark. The kiss quickly turns messy, desperate. My teeth scrape her bottom lip, and she gasps, her nails raking down my chest. My tongue slides against hers in a filthy rhythm, hungry and relentless.
I’m devouring her. Like I’ve been starving for her.
Because I have been.
My hand slides from her waist to her thigh, lifting it and hooking it around my hip.
She rocks against me, the unmistakable heat of her little pussy pressing against my aching cock, and I groan into her mouth.
The friction is torture, but I can’t stop.
I grind against her, my hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts, and she whimpers, her fingers twisting in my hair.
I want to fuck her. The need to get inside her is overwhelming in its intensity.
Her taste is intoxicating—warm, sweet, like honey and something uniquely her.
I can’t get enough. My tongue strokes hers, slow and deep, and she shudders against me, her body trembling.
I break the kiss just long enough to trail my lips down her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
She gasps, her head falling back against the tree, and I lick a hot stripe up to her jaw.
“Fuck, Norah,” I growl against her skin. “You feel incredible, sweetheart.”
She moans, her hips rolling against mine, and I can feel how wet she is, even through our clothes. The thought of her, slick and ready for me, makes my cock throb. I grind harder, my breath coming in ragged pants, and she whimpers, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Rowan—” My name is a broken plea on her lips, and it nearly undoes me. She’s never called me by my first name before, and hearing it like this…holy fucking hell. I want more.
The glow from my wrist flickers in my peripheral vision, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Norah’s fingers are still tangled in my hair, her body arched against mine like she’s trying to fuse us together.
Her breath comes in sharp, needy gasps, and that sound nearly shatters what’s left of my restraint.