Chapter Fourteen
Mateo
Among Predators
Her question rattles around in my brain, and all I want to say is ‘you.’ But she needs to eat, and I need to stop thinking with my dick. She is here, and she is safe. If I keep myself in check, she will choose to stay, and eventually her walls will come down and let me in.
But breakfast should not sound like sex.
But every hum from Harlow’s lips as she eats beside me on the bed drives nails into my control.
She sits cross-legged, her hair falling in waves around her, wearing nothing but that damn robe that keeps slipping open bit by bit.
The fork scrapes against the plate, and she takes another bite, moaning low in her throat.
Fuck. My mind keeps returning to the glimpse of full, milky breasts from earlier, and I clench my fist to keep from reaching for her.
I shift where I sit, my jeans suddenly too tight. The mattress dips as she leans forward for another mouthful, and all I can think about is her lips wrapped around something else. My something else.
She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing to me. Every sound vibrates down my spine like a promise. Every flick of her tongue over her fork has me imagining her on her knees, tongue on my cock instead.
I clench my fists in the blanket, trying to ground myself.
She deserves more than to be devoured when she’s not ready.
She deserves time. Patience. But patience has never been my strong suit, and I have waited a lifetime for her.
My cock leaks precum into my jeans as I breathe deep, trying to think of anything else.
Computer programs.
Kyson is cleaning his gun at the dining room table.
Riggs is cutting his toenails in the living room.
But nothing distracts me from the woman before me and the sliver of exposed skin as she leans forward. She sets the plate aside with a satisfied sigh and licks her thumb, moaning at the taste. That breaks me.
In one swift motion, I’ve caged her against the headboard, my mouth crushing down on hers. She gasps, startled, but then melts, her arms winding around my neck. Her lips are soft and sweet, tasting faintly of bacon and coffee.
I groan into her mouth, angling her head so I can taste her deeper.
My tongue slides against hers, and heat floods every inch of me.
My hands roam, cupping her jaw, trailing down her throat, skimming the gaping neckline of the robe she is wearing.
Her nipples pebble beneath the fabric, straining against nothing underneath, and I nearly lose my mind.
She moans again, this time into my mouth, and I’m gone.
I press her back into the bed, my clothed body pinning hers. She writhes beneath me, and the friction is exquisite torture. I can feel the heat of her core even through the barrier of fabric, and my cock aches with the need to tear the fabric off and bury myself inside her.
But I can’t. Not yet.
Instead, I drag my mouth down her neck, biting lightly, soothing with my tongue.
Her gasp fills the air, her fingers tangling in my hair as if to keep me from pulling away.
I trail lower, down her chest, pausing just long enough to tease her through the fluffy material of the robe she is wearing before I push the fabric apart and bear her to my gaze.
She’s trembling, but not in fear—in want.
I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed, pull her ass to me, and spread her thighs with my shoulders. She’s bare and glistening, perfect, and the sight alone is enough to unravel me.
“Mateo...” Her voice cracks, a plea.
“Shh, little one.” My breath ghosts over her heat. “Let me taste you.”
My mind is screaming at me to wait until she comes to me, until she tells me she is ready, but I can’t hold back.
I bury my mouth against her, licking slowly at first, savoring her taste.
Her body jerks, and she cries out, clutching the sheets.
The taste of her is addictive—sweet, sharp, and uniquely Harlow.
I circle her clit with the flat of my tongue, then suck gently, and she moans so loud I nearly come in my jeans.
I slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her body grips me. So fucking tight. I curl just right, finding the spot I know will drive her insane, and her hips buck against my face.
“Mateo!” she gasps, her voice broken and desperate.
I know I am moving too fast, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I was addicted to her before, but now I am lost to Harlow.
“Give it to me,” I rasp, adding a second finger and thrusting deep as I suck her clit harder. Her walls clench around me, her thighs trembling against my shoulders. And then she shatters.
Her scream rips through the room, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. I don’t stop until she sags back into the pillows, boneless, and gasping for air.
I lick her clean, every last drop, before kissing my way back up her trembling body. Her lips find mine, sloppy and breathless, and the bond between us hums so strongly it’s almost painful. I want to sink into her. I want to make her mine completely.
But I force myself to stop, resting my forehead against hers. “If I don’t leave this bed now, I’ll take more than you’re ready to give.”
Her blush deepens, but her smile is soft. Vulnerable. And it guts me.
Then the world explodes. A violent rumble shakes the compound, rattling the bedframe, sending the breakfast plate clattering to the floor. The boom that follows is deafening, a shockwave pounding through the walls.
Harlow jerks upright. “What was that?”
“Hunters.” My blood runs cold.
She grips my arm, panic in her eyes.
I leap to my feet, heart hammering, scanning the room. I have no weapons—fuck—but my brothers will already be in motion. “Stay here,” I snap. “Do not move until I come back.”
“Mateo...”
“I mean it!” My voice cracks like a whip, sharper than I intend, but fear claws at me. If I lose her now... No. I can’t.
I bolt down the hall, the bond between us stretching taut, threatening to snap with every step away from her.
The surveillance room glows with harsh light, screens flickering as smoke and heat distort the feeds. Figures in tactical gear move through the tree line, rifles raised, explosives strapped across their chests. The outer wall is already smoking, breached by the blast.
I slam commands into the console, locking down the compound, sealing shutters, and rerouting power. “North perimeter compromised,” I growl into the comms. “Scarlet, I need you up top, picking them off. Kyson, move to reinforce. Riggs, take the left flank. Rowan, cover the gate.”
Another boom rattles the building, and sparks rain from one of the monitors.
“Mateo.” Her voice makes me spin.
Harlow stands in the doorway, chest heaving, wearing a pale sundress. No bra. My gaze snags on the perfect outline of her nipples pressing against the fabric before I drag it back up to her wide, terrified eyes.
“I told you to stay,” I snarl.
“I couldn’t. I need to know what’s happening.” She crosses the room, planting herself at my side. “I won’t just sit in a room while the world explodes around me.”
Fuck. She’s stubborn. Braver than she should be. And she’s mine.
“Fine.” I yank a chair closer. “Sit. You don’t leave this room, do you understand? Not for anything. If you see anything unusual—movement, shadows, anything I miss—you tell me. Immediately.”
She nods, slipping into the chair. Her knees brush mine, her eyes fixed on the screens.
Outside, chaos erupts. Gunfire cracks through the night, sharp and endless.
The coven fights like shadows, moving too fast for the Hunters to track.
Kyson is a storm at the gate, cutting men down with brutal efficiency.
Scarlet fires from her perch, taking down anyone who gets too close.
Riggs’s steady presence cuts through the chaos, Rowan’s laughter crackling over the comms even as he slaughters.
And me? I stay in here, fingers flying over the keys, sealing them in, keeping them alive.
Not just them.
Her.
Always her.
If I fail, I lose everything.