Chapter Seventeen #4
We collapse, a mess of sweaty bodies, hitting the ground hard, her weight crashing against my chest as we land in a heap on the cold stone floor.
Her hair sticks to my face, her breath hot and uneven against my neck, and I can still feel the aftershocks of her trembling through every inch of her body pressed to mine.
My own chest heaves, lungs burning, the ache and fatigue from earlier creeping back in, but I don’t give a fuck.
Not right now. Not with her here, wrecked and perfect, sprawled half on top of me like she owns every broken piece of me.
Creed’s words still carve lines into my skull.
She isn’t yours.
She drains you.
I wrap her body closer and imagine carving those words out of my brain with the edge of a knife.
“Stop thinking.” Her voice brushes my sweaty chest, her finger trailing after. “You’re loud.”
“You’re bossy,” I murmur, yawning, cock still inside where it’s supposed to be.
“You like it.”
I smirk against her head, arching my hips. “Unfortunately.”
Her laugh vibrates over me.
I can pretend there’s no world beyond this. That my brothers accept her the way I’d always imagined them accepting my mate. That she’s welcome to the opening ball tonight just like everyone else. That their words don’t affect me.
“Legend,” she says. Quiet. The word isn’t a plea this time. It’s a touch. “What did your brothers want?”
“They don’t believe you’re my mate.”
She tenses.
I squeeze. “They’re wrong.”
She relaxes.
She fucking relaxes? Since when? The thought that I’m working my way into the stubborn shell of hers shouldn’t feel as triumphant as it does.
“I told you I wasn’t.” She tries to roll off me but I lock her in place.
“Shut the fuck up.” I kiss her head. “They don’t know shit. I have always been the smarter brother. I’ve known you’re mine since the second I smelled you from across the room.”
She laughs, but I feel her pain against my chest.
“Another thing. You might not like this one.”
“Yay,” she mocks, resting her chin on her hand and looking up at me from below.
“You have to wear a dress.”
Her face falls. “What?”
“It’s for a party.” I shrug, as if that should soften the blow. “Last I checked, you happened to like those? Huh?”
“Okay, grumpy.” She smirks. “Let me guess. Ball gowns and crowns and a lot of fragile egos pretending they’re not terrified I’ll tear out their hearts.”
I curl a lock of her hair around my finger. “Something like that.”
“And you’re taking me.” Her voice is low, as if she needs reassurance.
“I’m taking you,” I say. “Unless you’d rather I take someone else…”
“Not unless the other side of your face would like to meet my knuckles?” She says casually, breaking out in a fit of laughter as I roll her onto her back.
I settle between her thighs. Fuck, she looks beautiful. Dark hair sprawled out around her, skin slick with our sex, and eyes dark.
She touches my cheek, the gesture unnatural for her, and pulls at something in my chest. “Don’t lock me in like that again.”
I smirk. “Am I to let you run?”
Her smile dies slowly. The part of her that’s always half on a cliff looks at me. “I run only when I’m chased.”
“So don’t make me chase you…” I nip at her bottom lip.
“I want you to chase me.” The honesty delivers yet another harsh slice to the chest. “I just don’t want you to lock me away.”
I cup her face and stroke the edge of her cheekbone. “I don’t know how to control you.” The words taste like bitter acid, and I feel the first pulse of fatigue wave through my body.
“Because you can’t,” she says, matter-of-factly.
I know it’s true. And the words from my brothers once again invade our space.
The bond would never allow the other to want to be away from them.
They’d kill each other before wanting to be away.
So why does she fucking fight me? I feel it.
I feel it all. Why the fuck doesn’t she?
I want to tell her I am trying to learn not to control her by doing the smaller things.
That putting her on my lap in front of an entire school and announcing I could crown her is what that looked like in my head, a way to show her she means more.
That she belongs and not for just for a moment.
That teaching her to portal, even if we kept failing and fell into my bed, was me trying to learn to trust she won’t run.
That the thing in the water was a test I thought she could chew and spit but surprised me when it almost had her in tears.
“Come with me to the ball at the week’s end,” I say instead.
She searches my face with slight suspicion. Smart girl. “You’re serious? Why?”
“Because they’ll learn you,” I say. “The more they see us together, the more they’ll understand.” I drag my teeth over her cheekbone, circling my hips. “They’ll learn to love you as a weapon to use, not one to be afraid of.”
“Or maybe I’ll just cut you,” she says.
I brush my nose against hers. “You already do.”
She closes her eyes for a heartbeat. Something fierce settles there.
“Fine,” she says. “But if Creed looks at me like a problem, I will become one.”
“It’s his favorite hobby,” I say. “But not at the ball. Save your wrath for another day.”
She laughs, short. Punch-drunk. “Deal.”