Chapter 21 #2
My whole body reacted to the way he moved. My hands clung to his back as he supported all of me against the tile. I felt the heat of him everywhere, steady and consuming. My back pressed to the wall as he held me firm, as if letting go was not an option.
My muscles clenched and released in perfect time with his thrusts as he took me against the cool tile of the shower wall.
The water droplets danced across my skin, making me shiver and arch my back to press closer to him.
“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured against my neck, his teeth scraping lightly, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
“It feels like home,” I gasped out, my fingers digging into his wet biceps as he pushed deeper.
The water intensified the sensation, turning everything into a symphony of heat and wetness and skin on skin.
His mouth found my earlobe, sucking gently as he continued to move inside me, setting off a chain reaction of sparks along every nerve.
I gripped his shoulders, unable to contain the wave of pleasure building inside me. “More,” I pleaded, “Please.”
A sound left him, strained and real. His mouth moved down my neck. The moment his lips touched my skin, my entire body tightened around him. The tension inside me grew so fast I could hardly keep it in.
His teeth grazed my neck. I froze, not from fear, but from the shock of wanting him to keep going. He paused, waiting for any sign from me.
“Cristian,” I whispered. “Please.”
He gave in. His fangs sank into my skin with controlled pressure. A sharp, warm pull radiated through me. My head fell back against the tile as a tremor rolled through my body. I held him tighter, pulling him closer without thinking.
He let out a low, strained sound against my neck. His grip tightened on my hips as if the taste of me shook him as much as the bite shook me. The bond between us surged, strong and undeniable. I felt it in my chest, my stomach, everywhere.
“More,” I whispered. “Please.”
He pulled back, breathing hard, his mouth still close to my skin. His control strained so tight I could feel it in the way he held me. “You undo me,” he said. “I cannot explain it.”
Warm water ran over us, calming nothing. His lips brushed the mark on my neck with a softness that made my knees shake, even though he carried all my weight.
It was all too much, and yet not enough—I wanted this feeling to never end.
“You’re going to make me lose control,” he groaned into my ear, his hips moving wildly now as if he couldn’t help himself anymore.
“Do it,” I whispered back, grabbing onto him tighter as the pressure built up inside me. With one final thrust that made me see stars, I cried out his name and fell apart beneath him. He followed seconds later with a low roar that seemed to shake the entire bathroom.
As we both tried to catch our breaths, he held me close, his chest heaving against my breasts. The water calmed us both, washing away the evidence of our passion and leaving us sated and utterly connected.
He reached for the soap without asking, like he had done this a thousand times in his mind. He worked gently, slow strokes along my arms, my collarbones, the curve of my shoulders. There was no rush in him. Only a calm focus that made my chest tighten.
“You are all right,” he said softly.
“I know,” I whispered. “Because of you.”
He rinsed my hair with careful fingers, keeping the water out of my face, his thumb brushing my temple in a steady, soothing pass.
I leaned into him. He caught me without question and guided my head against his chest.
“You did so well,” he murmured against my hair. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
“Nothing hurts,” I said. “I feel steady.”
He let out a sound that was almost relief, then pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering, like he needed to confirm I was with him.
His hands moved down my spine, washing with soft pressure. He held my hips when I swayed, grounding me with a strength that never felt heavy.
“You are warm,” he said softly. “I am glad.”
“I love how you take care of me. You don’t have to, but you do.”
“I want to, Nadia. You give me trust. I give you care.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. The water ran over both of us, steady and constant. Cristian rested his chin on my head and kept one hand at the small of my back, the other smoothing down my arm again and again, like he was calming himself as much as me.
“You are safe,” he said once more, softer than before. “With me. Always.”
“I know,” I said. And I meant it.
We stayed like that until the steam filled the room, until my heartbeat settled, until his shoulders relaxed under my hands. When he finally reached for a towel, he wrapped it around me first, tucking the edges with such care that my throat tightened.
Then he pulled me into his arms again. No hunger. No urgency.
Just care.
My pulse had finally stopped tripping over itself, but I didn’t trust it not to start again.
Cristian lay beside me. We were tangled under the sheets, both of us too dazed to move.
I tried to focus on the sound of the sudden rain outside instead of the fact that I’d just done…
that. Again. With him. My undead, ex-aristocrat, kind-of-roommate.
I tried to remember the words of my therapist. To allow myself good things.
But I’m not exactly sure she meant spending the whole day in bed with a vampire was what she’d meant.
Cristian’s hand was drawing slow, steady circles on my hip. The quiet felt peaceful.
“So,” Cristian said finally, voice low and calm, “would you like to tell me why you brought up Ezra earlier?”
My body went rigid. “What?”
“You mentioned his name earlier,” he said. “And then evaded.”
“I don’t evade.”
He turned his head toward me, one brow lifting. “You do.”
He wasn’t wrong. I sighed, sinking deeper into the pillows. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing rarely makes you avoid eye contact.”
I groaned. “You’re very observant for someone who lived life without indoor lighting.”
His lips curved slightly. “Flattery will not work this time.”
I sat up, clutching the blanket. “Okay, but if I tell you, you have to promise you won’t get… weird.”
He studied me for a long moment, unreadable. Then: “I can make no such promise.”
“Cristian.”
“I will try.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s the best I can offer.”
I exhaled, bracing myself. “Fine. Ezra said something weird. Two things, actually.”
His eyes sharpened. “Go on.”
I pulled at a loose thread in my blanket. “He said maybe the easiest way to deal with the Sovereign Court was to just… kill them all. Including your brother.”
Cristian stilled completely. His expression didn’t change, but the air around him did. The temperature seemed to drop a degree.
I rushed to add, “He was frustrated. He didn’t mean it. I think.”
Cristian’s reply was flat, deliberate. “If he wasn’t my brother, I would want him dead also. But I do think it’s time for a heart-to-heart with Ezra.”
“And,” I continued, heart thudding, “he implied that you might be the reason I’ve been feeling so drained lately. Because you’re a vampire. That you might be…taking too much from me. Which isn’t true, by the way. I told him that.”
Cristian’s voice came out low, measured, too calm. “He accused me of harming you.”
I swallowed. “Technically, he implied it. Subtly.”
Cristian’s jaw worked once, the muscle ticking. “And you defended me.”
“Of course I did,” I said quickly. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know what this is.” I gestured vaguely between us. “And I told him he was wrong.”
Something like guilt flashed across Cristian’s face, but in a flash, his stoic mask was back in place. He nodded once, very slow, like a man deciding which part of the world to set on fire first.
“Cristian,” I warned. “Are you getting weird?”
He looked at me, eyes dark and unreadable. “I am not. I shall just have a brief conversation with the lad.”
“I think you’ll breathe through it like my therapist tells me to,” I said, grabbing his arm as he sat up. “In through the nose, out through the century-long grudge.”
It didn’t work.
He stood and pulled on a robe. He wore it so well that it was profoundly unhelpful for rational conversation.
“Cristian,” I said again, climbing off the bed. “Please don’t.”
He was already halfway to the door. “I will speak with him.”
“Your version of speaking involves structural damage!” I scrambled after him, pulling on my own robe and tying it hastily. “Please, can we just—”
He pulled free of my grip with that unstoppable certainty that made arguing feel like yelling at a cathedral.
“Cristian!”
He didn’t look back as he strode down the hall, bare feet silent on the old wood. The bond buzzed like a live wire between us, full of his restrained fury and my rising panic.
I chased him anyway, because apparently that was my summer theme—poorly timed emotional decisions and cardio.
By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, I could already hear the soft clack of Ezra’s keyboard.
Cristian’s voice, when it came, was steady, cold, and lethal. “Ezra, we need to talk.”
And just like that, I knew the night was about to go spectacularly wrong.