Chapter 17 Aurora #3
Feeling brave, and literally out of fucks to give, I trace the ink, barely skimming his collarbone.
“Do you like them?” Ezra asks, making me jump. Lost in the softness of his skin and the hollow at the base of his neck, I forgot where I was.
“They’re beautiful, Ezra,” I say as a massive yawn steals my voice. I keep my palm flat against his chest while my fingers continue idly tracing the line where ink gives way to unmarked skin.
“Mm. You smell so good,” I whisper, running my nose along his neck. “If I were a smut author, I’d probably say you smell like … cinnamon, spice, everything nice … and something distinctly male.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Which, what even is that? Ball sweat?”
Ezra chuckles, then stills. “I … what do I actually smell like?”
“Hm, you smell like cinnamon brooms,” I mumble into his chest, my voice hoarse and raw.
“My mom used to hang one up every fall.” I press my cheek to his chest, letting the memory linger. “Whole house would smell like spice and pine and magic.”
He doesn’t move. Not even a breath.
“It always made me feel safe.”
The silence stretches long enough to make me wonder if I said something wrong. But then—barely there—his arms tighten around me. Not possessive. Not lustful. Just … there.
He feels so fucking right, but something still bothers me.
“Ezra? Can I ask you something?”
How Ezra answers the next few questions will determine if our story continues … or ends.
“You may ask me anything, Aurora.” His arm tightens around me, the delightful pressure making my questions seem less and less important.
“If you had come into my home that night and I said someone else’s name, or I wasn’t dreaming at all, would you have … touched me?”
Ezra takes a deep breath, then buries his face in my hair.
“No, little lupine.” His voice is quiet. “I would not have touched you the way I did. But when you said my name, when you begged, I let myself believe it was an invitation.”
His arms tighten slightly. “Or maybe I convinced myself to hear it that way.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me. The storm in his eyes doesn’t rage, it churns, slow and endless.
When he finally speaks again, his words are calm, but final. “I am sorry. But I do not regret it. And given the same situation? I would most likely do the same thing.”
The words should terrify me. They should feel like a warning. But his touch is soft and steady. This is not a man who takes without asking. Not anymore.
“You were correct when you called me a monster in the bookshop,” Ezra murmurs, “but I want to be better. For you.”
“If I woke up, would you have stopped if I asked?”
Ezra hooks his finger under my chin and leans back so he can brush his lips against mine.
“Yes, darling. I would have stopped. I always will.”
The moment he says it, his shadows thicken, darkening at the edges of the room, coiling with the slow hunger of something that’s been promised blood.
“I just …” He swallows like the words are heavier than they should be.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. It makes me reckless.”
He looks away, jaw working, as if he’s trying to bite back the rest. When he speaks again, it’s quieter—the words bleeding out through a crack in his resolve.
“I don’t want one night with you. I want you. You don’t flinch when you see the monster. You look right at it … and stay. You accept every fucked-up part of me. Even these inky little bastards.”
He leans in, breath warm against my skin.
“I just … I want more. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know what ‘more’ looks like. But if it’s you …”
His voice dips, warping under the weight of the moment.
“I’ll fucking learn.”
Yep. That’ll do it. My stupid, traitorous body straddles Ezra as I crash my mouth against his. Strong hands fall to my hips and squeeze while his tongue invades my mouth.
I roll my hips over his hard cock and softly moan against Ezra’s lips.
Fuck, he’s huge.
I’m not sure why my injuries aren’t more severe, but right now, it doesn’t matter. When I slip my hands under his sweater, Ezra growls, pulls my hands away from his chest, then cups my face.
“Not tonight, Aurora.”
He exhales, eyes closed, his body so still it feels final.
Whatever was holding me together starts to wilt.
“Why? Is it because of what happened? You don’t want me anymore?”
Maybe I read this all wrong. He may feel protective of me, but that doesn’t mean he wants me the way I obviously want him.
Tears drip from my chin as my heart cracks and shatters.
For a second, I swear I feel his breath again.
Not Ezra’s—his.
That cold, smug voice echoing in the dark.
“See? I told you. Right now, he’s imagining every pretty sound you made for me. Every time you choked on my cock. How fucking wet you were for me. It’s okay, baby girl. You’re still my good little whore. I’ll always want you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
That voice isn’t real.
Not now. Not here.
But before the voice can sink its claws in, Ezra’s hands are on my face, pulling me back from the edge.
Ezra hums in frustration, his thumb catching a tear as he wipes it away.
“Come back to me, little lupine. You’re safe. I see you. And to be perfectly honest …”
He breathes out. His voice is calm, but I can feel the maelstrom underneath it.
“I want you now more than ever. I want to bring you the pleasure that monster stole from you. I want to restore your peace. I want to be your shelter.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks, soft and cool against my fiery, flushed skin.
“There’s plenty of time to explore each other, Aurora. But tonight, you must rest.”
He’s right, of course. I’m probably more fucked up than I want to admit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.
My weight shifts off his lap, shame curling in my stomach. Ezra’s shadows cling as I pull away, resisting for a heartbeat too long before snapping back to him, frustrated but obedient.
He doesn’t want me.
No, that’s not it.
But some ugly, broken part of me still whispers the lie.
I try to move away from him, but Ezra pulls me back against his side and wraps his arms around me. He gently places an ice pack on my throbbing neck, and I sigh with relief.
Fuck, that feels good.
I wrap an arm around his waist and hook my leg around his.
I’m afraid that if I let go, I’ll disappear into that nightmare again.
But he keeps me here—his warmth, his breath, the weight of his arms, the press of his promise.
Every inch of him tells me: You’re safe now.
I don’t fight sleep this time. I let it take me, safe in the shelter of his arms, while something unseen keeps watch.
In the dark, his shadows curl close, drawn to the broken pieces I’m barely holding together.
I shouldn’t feel safe in the arms of something ancient and wrong.
But I do.
Because it’s him.
And whatever lives inside him is watching over me too.