Chapter 18
I HOPE THE GODS DIE OF HORNINESS
Andrik-
She’s yelling again. I’m trying my best to ignore her. But gods, she’s loud, and half-wild, storming around her bedroom like a feral little fox in heat.
The walls do nothing to muffle her voice.
“Keep this up, and I’m going to throw my emotional support animal at your big, stupid, not-hot-at-all face!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale slowly.
Vel’tharn. I have to stay in control. The bond is clawing at me, dragging its hooks deeper into my chest. I’ve already failed once today—letting my hands roam where they shouldn’t.
She was so vaelis’kai, but there was something new this time.
Something that makes my head swim, like when I drink velathrin.
(Rhvari liquor.) If I walk back into that room now…
“I hope the gods are watching. I hope they die from horniness!”
A laugh escapes me. I bite the inside of my cheek and lean my head against the wall.
Kael’thurin veskai. (Gods, help her.) She’s going to be the death of me, or I’m going to break first, and ruin every last rule I’ve clung to.
She doesn’t understand what this is like for me. This is not just arousal—it’s everything. It’s heat and hunger. Centuries of silence finally broken open. She’s in my blood now... in my soul.
Every shout from that room sends sparks down my spine, like she’s summoning me without even trying. Vel'karis ves sael?n—thrae'ven kai kaev?n. (Her defiance feeds my soul—and hardens my cock.)
“Your move, Bambi!”
Another laugh pulls from my throat. I cover my mouth this time, fangs pricking my tongue.
I should go in and apologize. Explain why I stopped. I thought if she had just a fraction of the heat pulsing through her body, like I do in mine, she would understand there is no lack of attraction from my side—just the need to know she’s safe before I act on it.
But if I go back in there now—if I see her still flushed and swollen and angry—I won’t be able to stop again.
There’s something about that wicked little mouth.
And that heat in her scent. It’s changing fast. Her body’s preparing for me.
I don’t have much time left before her ovulation hits, and then I’ll be fighting instincts ten times worse.
I press my palms against the wall. I should be strategizing.
Tracking him. Keeping her safe. Instead, I’m standing in a hallway, rock-hard, listening to my mate scream about throwing a vibrator at my face.
Kael’thurin ves’nae if she does.
The second this threat is gone, there will be no restraint left—not a single ounce.
She shouts something about me being hot, and I nearly bark another laugh.
I grip the edge of the couch, claws biting into the fabric. I try to breathe through it, but her scent is everywhere. Sweet and brazen, coating the room like mist.
Kaemorin.
I catch a glance of myself in the mirror, and I don’t recognize my reflection: My pupils are blown wide. My eyes glow brighter than ever before, and my fangs are dripping massive amounts of thraevún.
The beast in me is no longer pacing. He’s prowling.
I close my eyes and breathe deep, every inhale torturous and addictive.
I swear she’s trying to punch me with her scent. My claws sink further into the couch.
I can hear her now, growling in frustration, mocking the Vraks?n phrase I whispered into her ear: “I’ll mark you down deep only the gods will remember, blah blah blah.”
She’s playing with fire, and I want to burn for the first time in my life.
I exhale hard through my nose, biting back a grin.
Thal?n, I’m enjoying this. I have never been able to play around like this before. She may think she’s winning, but I’m not suffering in the ways she thinks I am.
This is foreplay for me—the sacred mating dance. And she’s baring her throat to the wrong monster.
Her footsteps stomp toward the hall.
I can hear the triumphant swing of her bag sliding over her shoulder. She’s completely unaware that the predator she just challenged is waiting on the other side.
I step toward her bedroom, slow and quiet, and lean casually against the wall. I cross my arms in front of my chest and tilt my head.
The second she turns the corner, she skitters to a halt. Her bag slips halfway down her arm, then drops to the floor.
Her eyes drag from my bare chest, to the tension still coiled in my shoulders, down to my claws, and then back up to meet my gaze.
I raise an eyebrow.
She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again.
I don’t say a word as I watch her. Seeing her flustered is adorable.
Her cheeks flush, and her pulse picks up.
I give her a slow, lazy once-over, eyes tracking every inch of her body, then I look back into her eyes and give her a dangerous smile.
She crosses her arms, “You think you’re real hot shit, don’t you, frosty?”
I hum.
“I don't think anything, snowdrop.”
She scowls, and damn if it isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Well, enjoy your little win. You clearly needed it.”
I push off the wall and take one step forward. She immediately backs up.
“You’re the one who made this a game,’ I murmur. “And now you’re upset because I’m better at it?”
“I’m not upset,” she huffs, spinning on her heel. “I’m just done talking to emotionally unavailable snow-beasts, who have a habit of whispering snow erotica into people’s ears, and then leaving.”
“Your scent is still all over my fingers.”
She chokes and halts mid-step, like prey caught in a trap. “I could taste you right now if I wanted to.”
She spins back around, eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”
I shrug.
“Oh, I very much think you heard me, Lumi.”
“You—you—” she sputters, cheeks flaming. “You’re such a... what's the word for asshole in your language?”
I grin. It feels good to finally let go a little. To be the beast she keeps, and not the one who believes he’s not worthy.
“I tried to be patient,” I offer, “But you didn’t like that, did you, Sael?n?”
She cuts me off, and I can tell by the determined little look on her face that I’m not going to like what’s about to come out of her mouth.
Lumi-
I know better the second it pops into my mind, but I’m so worked up, I let it out anyway.
“Wonder if my stalker would make me wait like this?”
Silence. Complete, apocalyptic silence. I immediately freeze.
Dumbass.
Why do I do this when I know better?
The silence stretches an uncomfortable amount of time. I can’t see his face because I refuse to look up from the floor. His gaze feels heavy. Dangerous.
Fucking way to go, Lumi.
“...Andrik?” I try, nervously. “Okay, maybe that was a bit far.”
No answer.
The floorboards creak. Once. Twice. Three times.
He’s coming. God, thou art in heaven, or whichever one is listening right now. Please. I didn’t mean what I said earlier about you choking.
I can see the glow from his eyes, even though I’m still looking down.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, already backpedaling, hands up like I can ward him off. “That was—I didn’t mean—”
When his voice comes out, it surprises me. It’s deadly soft, and that’s even more terrifying.
“I am nothing like them.”
This feels like the calm before the storm.
“No,” I whisper. “You’re not. I was just—”
He takes one more step. I hit the wall behind me.
He doesn't touch me, but his body cages mine with his overwhelming presence.
“Do you think they would survive touching you?” He breathes. “Do you think I’d let them live long enough?”
“Andrik—”
He leans in, lips grazing my cheek, just enough.
Heat floods through me even though I feel like a piece of shit—damn this traitorous body.
“I wait because I love you,” he growls, every word enunciated aggressively. “They wait because they want to break you.”
His claws dig into the wall behind me, splintering the plaster.
“If you ever put my name next to theirs again—”
“I won’t,” I promise. “I swear I won't.”
“Good,” he snarls.
And then—he’s gone. He walks off, leaving me flattened against the wall. Chest heaving and blood pounding in my ears so loud I could drown in it.
What did I say? What the fuck did I just say?
My pulse stutters. The air around me feels stagnant now.
He didn’t say anything before he left. He didn’t growl or slam a door.
He just left... quiet, and controlled, and somehow that’s a thousand times worse than if he had snapped.
You took it too far, Lumi.
The words echo in my mind over and over again. “I didn’t mean it,” I whisper to no one.
Except I did—or at least part of me did.
Some twisted, rabid part of me wanted to push him. To get a reaction. To make him choose.
And now? Now I feel like I broke something I can’t fix.
I call his name once, but he doesn’t answer. The silence is deafening.
I check each room in my apartment, but I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he’s waiting for me downstairs.
I zip up my jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder.
The air in the stairwell smells faintly of metal and cleaning solution. I take a step, then another. Come on, Lumi, find him and apologize. Say it like you mean it.
I reach the second landing when I hear a soft metallic click, like someone flicked open a lighter. I look behind me, but there’s no one there.
Okay. Breathe. You’re just being paranoid.
But I don’t take another step. Something feels off. I grip the railing tighter. “Andrik?” I call softly. “This isn’t funny. I’m sorry, okay?”
Nothing. Just the slight hum of the fluorescent lights lining the ceiling.
I turn back toward the lower stairs, more hurried now.
Just get to him. Just find him. Just—
I slam into something so hard my contacts are knocked free. My heart freezes. All I can make out is a black, shadowy figure.
A strong floral scent hits my nose—the smell is so familiar.
My chest tightens when a whisper curls from the shadows like it’s wrapping itself around my neck.
“Not a single wound, but you’re still bleeding,” he says.
My body breaks out in chills. I take off, pumping my legs as fast as I can back up to my floor. My breath comes too fast. My fingers tremble as I reach into my coat for the knife I keep clipped to the inside pocket. I can barely see anything.
“Andrik,” I whisper, this time barely audible. “Please come back. I’m sorry.”