Chapter 18
Wes
I can’t sleep.
Not after the kitchen. Not after the taste of her Ether flowing into me like liquid starlight, filling hollows I didn’t know existed until they were suddenly, impossibly full.
The hunger that’s been clawing at me for weeks is sharper now—not worse, but more focused. Like it finally knows what it wants. Like it finally knows what it’s been waiting for.
Her.
I pace the length of my room, bare feet silent on the cool stone.
The sanctuary responded to me when I moved in, shaping the space around my needs—soft textures, warm colors, a bed built for comfort rather than just sleep.
But tonight it all feels too small, too contained for the restless energy thrumming under my skin.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face in the kitchen. The way she looked at me when I admitted I’d fed from Gray. Not jealous or hurt—aroused. Like the thought of me with him turned her on instead of threatening her.
“Tell me what it was like,” she’d said, and her voice had gone rough with want.
Christ. What is she doing to me?
I run my hands through my hair, trying to shake off the memory. But it clings, stubborn and intoxicating. The way she stepped closer instead of pulling away. The way she chose to kiss me again after learning what I was.
The way she let me feed.
A soft sound interrupts my spiraling thoughts—the quiet click of my door opening. I turn, expecting maybe Theo with another vision, or Rhett checking on everyone like he does when he can’t sleep.
Instead, it’s Bree.
She stands in the doorway barefoot, dark hair mussed, still wearing Rhett’s oversized hoodie. But there’s nothing uncertain about her posture. Nothing hesitant or questioning.
She looks at me like she’s made a decision.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” she says quietly.
The words hit me like lightning. Direct. Certain. So different from the careful, cautious Bree who usually second-guesses every choice.
“Bree.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” She steps into the room, closing the door behind her with deliberate care. “I want to.”
The air between us shifts immediately, charged and thick. I can feel her Ether stirring, silver mist beginning to curl around her ankles, and my hunger responds with a sharp spike of need.
She crosses the room slowly, never breaking eye contact. When she’s close enough to touch, she stops.
“In the kitchen, you said you needed me,” she says. “Show me how much.”
The last of my restraint snaps.
I reach for her, cupping her face in my hands, and kiss her like I’m drowning. She kisses me back just as desperately, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
The moment our mouths meet, the Ether responds. I feel it rushing from her skin into mine, warm and electric and intoxicating. But this time I don’t panic. This time I let myself sink into it, let myself take.
The feeding is different now—not the accidental pull from before, but something deliberate. Controlled. I can feel her pleasure sparking through the connection, can sense every gasp and shiver like it’s my own.
And I realize something that makes my breath catch: the more pleasure I give her, the more she gives me in return. It’s not taking at all—it’s creating something beautiful and desperate between us, where every gasp she gives me makes me want to give her more.
“Wes,” she breathes against my mouth, and I can hear the surprise in her voice. Like she’s feeling the same connection I am.
“I know.” I trail my lips down her throat, tasting vanilla and starlight on her skin. “I can feel it too. Every time you let go a little more, I feel it. And you like it, don’t you?”
She makes a soft sound that’s half gasp, half moan, and the Ether surges brighter. I can taste her surrender in the magic flowing between us, sweet and electric on my tongue.
“Don’t hide from me,” I murmur against the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “I can feel when you’re holding back. And I want everything you’ll give me.”
Her hands slide under my shirt, nails dragging across my skin in a way that makes me shudder. “Then take it.”
The words hit me like lightning—so different from the careful, hesitant Bree I’m used to.
There’s something new in her voice, something bold and unapologetic that makes my pulse spike.
I can feel it in the Ether too, black threads weaving through the silver in patterns I don’t understand.
But right now I don’t care about the source.
Right now I only care about the way she’s looking at me like she’s finally ready to stop apologizing for what she wants.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed. The hoodie rides up, and I realize she’s only wearing underwear beneath it—the thought makes my mouth go dry and my hunger spike so sharp it’s almost painful.
When I lay her down, she doesn’t look away or try to cover herself. She just watches me with those light green eyes gone dark with want.
“Tell me what you need,” I say, my voice dropping to that low register that makes her breath catch.
“You.” The word comes out without hesitation. “All of you. I’m tired of being careful.”
Something fierce and possessive rises in my chest. “Then we won’t be careful.”
I pull her hoodie over her head, and she helps me, lifting her arms without a trace of self-consciousness. The sight of her bare skin in the dim light makes my mouth go dry, makes the hunger spike so sharp it’s almost painful.
But I force myself to go slow. To worship every inch of exposed skin with my mouth and hands until she’s arching beneath me, silver mist rising from her skin like steam.
I trail kisses down her throat, tasting vanilla and starlight on her skin. Her pulse flutters under my lips, and when I find that sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, she makes a soft sound that sends fire straight through me.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, and I can feel the truth of it resonating through the magical connection between us. “So fucking beautiful.”
I map the curves of her waist, her hips, the soft skin of her thighs. Every touch sends sparks through the Ether, doubling the sensation until I can barely think straight. My fingers trace the edge of her underwear, pulling a gasp from her lips
When I hook my fingers in the waistband of her underwear, she lifts her hips to help me slide them away. No hesitation. No fear. Just trust and want and the kind of raw honesty that makes my chest tight.
She reaches for my shirt then, and I let her strip it away, let her explore the planes of my chest and stomach with curious hands. Every touch sends sparks through the Ether, making us both gasp at the intensity.
“Wes.” My name on her lips sounds like prayer and demand all at once.
“I’m here.” I settle between her thighs, pressing kisses to her hipbones, her inner thighs, anywhere I can reach. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The first touch of my mouth makes her cry out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure crashes through the Ether. I can feel her sensation like it’s my own, can taste her pleasure on my tongue, and it’s intoxicating.
I work her slowly, thoroughly, using the magic to read exactly what she needs. Every gasp and moan feeds back into my hunger until I’m drunk on the taste of her, on the way she comes apart in my mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, her hands tangling in my hair. “Please don’t stop.”
“Never,” I promise against her skin. “I could do this forever.”
And I could. The way she responds to me, the way her pleasure feeds directly into my hunger—it’s perfect. Sustainable. Like we were made to fit together exactly like this.
When she comes the first time, the Ether explodes around us in a shower of silver light threaded with black. I feel her climax like an electric shock, feeding me so completely that for a moment I can’t breathe.
But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
I kiss my way back up her body, savoring every tremor and aftershock. When I reach her mouth, she kisses me desperately, tasting herself on my lips.
“More,” she whispers against my mouth. “I want more.”
“Greedy,” I tease, but there’s approval in my voice. Pride. “I like that. I want you greedy.”
She reaches between us, her hand wrapping around me with a confidence that makes me groan. “Then give me something to be greedy about.”
I nearly lose it right there. The combination of her touch and her words and the way the Ether is singing between us—it’s almost too much.
But I want to savor this. Want to make it last.
I capture her wrists, pinning them gently above her head. “Patience. We have all night.”
“I don’t want to be patient.” There’s an edge to her voice now, something demanding that makes my pulse spike. “I’ve been patient my whole life. I’m done waiting.”
The words hit me hard because I can hear the truth in them, can feel the shift in her through our connection. This isn’t just about sex—it’s about power. About choosing what she wants and taking it without apology.
“Then don’t wait,” I tell her, releasing her wrists to frame her face with my hands. “Take what you want from me. All of it.”
She surges up to kiss me, and this time there’s nothing soft or hesitant about it. She kisses me like she’s claiming me, her nails dragging down my back hard enough to leave marks. She hooks her legs around my thighs, pulling me to her.
When I finally sink into her, we both cry out. The sensation is overwhelming—not just physical, but magical. I can feel her pleasure mixing with mine, creating something bigger than either of us alone.
I move slowly at first, savoring every sensation, every gasp and moan. But she won’t let me stay gentle.
“Harder,” she demands, her legs wrapping around me again to pull me deeper. “I won’t break.”
“No,” I agree, my voice gone rough with need. “You won’t.”
I give her what she wants—what we both need. Deep, claiming strokes that make her arch beneath me, that send lightning through the magic until I can’t tell where I end and she begins.
The black threads in her Ether pulse brighter with every thrust, weaving through the silver until her magic looks like dark starlight. It should worry me. Instead it just makes me hungrier, makes me want to drive her higher until she’s completely undone.
“That’s it,” I breathe against her ear. “Let go. Let me feel all of it.”
She comes apart in my arms with a cry that sounds like my name, her body clenching around me as the Ether explodes between us. The feeding is so intense it borders on overwhelming—wave after wave of her pleasure crashing into me until I’m dizzy with it.
But I’m not done with her yet. I slow my movements, drawing out her aftershocks, my mouth finding that sensitive spot on her throat that makes her gasp.
I can feel her body responding again, the magic sparking back to life as I build her toward another peak.
The Ether thrums between us, silver and black threads pulsing in rhythm with our bodies.
“Say my name,” I command, my voice rough with need. “Say my name when you let go.”
“Wes,” she gasps, and then again, louder: “Wes!”
I feel her body tighten around me, her pleasure crashing through our magic like a wave of pure light.
My own climax follows seconds later, ripping through me with an intensity that leaves me shaking. For a moment the world goes white, everything reduced to pleasure and magic and the feeling of being completely, impossibly full for the first time in my life.
We collapse together afterward, breathing hard, her head pillowed on my chest. The Ether settles around us like a blanket, still sparking with aftershocks—silver threaded with those dark veins that pulse like a heartbeat.
I’m full. Truly, completely full for the first time in my life.
The hollowness that’s been eating at me for weeks is gone, replaced by a warm, thrumming energy that makes my skin feel electric.
I’m half-stunned by the intensity of it, half-drunk on the sensation of being exactly what I was meant to be.
“Your pleasure feeds me, Bree,” I whisper against her hair, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “That’s what I am. And I’ll never stop wanting more.”
She makes a soft sound of contentment, her fingers curling in my shirt like she’s anchoring herself to me. Her breathing is already slowing, eyelids heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.
Watching her like this—sated, trusting, completely undone in my arms—something shifts in my chest. The possessive hunger sharpens into something fiercer. More protective.
She chose me. Fed me. Made me powerful instead of broken.
But it’s more than that. Her trust is what makes this possible—without it, I’m nothing but hunger. Without her choosing to give, I’m just another predator taking what isn’t mine.
The weight of that responsibility settles over me, heavier and more precious than any power.
I pull the blankets up around her carefully, tucking her against my side. She doesn’t stir, just burrows closer with a sleepy sigh that makes my chest tight with something I don’t have words for yet.
No one touches her, I think, the vow crystallizing with surprising intensity. No one takes from her without her choosing it. She’s mine to feed from, mine to protect.
The thought should probably scare me—the raw possessiveness of it, the way it feels carved into my bones. Instead it just feels right. Natural. Like this is what I was always meant to become.
Bree’s breathing evens out completely, one hand still fisted in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. But I don’t move. Don’t want to break the connection, don’t want to disturb the perfect weight of her against me.
I should be tired. Should be ready to sleep off the overwhelming intensity of what just happened.
Instead I’m buzzing with restless energy, my new strength crackling under my skin like electricity looking for somewhere to go.
The feeding satisfied the desperate hunger that’s been clawing at me, but it’s also awakened something else.
Something that feels too big to contain in this room, no matter how perfect the moment is.
I stare at the door, a slow grin tugging at my mouth.
The night isn’t over yet.