Chapter 9
Kiss Me Softly
Alexa
Romero pushes me back onto the bed and reclaims my lips.
He takes the lead, undressing us without rush.
I can’t help noticing his strong, well built chest, the lean lines of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the kind that feels made for resting your head against after everything else falls quiet.
He gasps when my fingertips brush over his taut nipples, more surprised than offended, maybe even ticklish. But he doesn’t stop me. Instead, he kisses his way down my body, slow and deliberate, leaving red marks along my skin that make me shiver under him.
His hands strip me layer by layer, his attention settling on my already warm thighs.
He is careful, unhurried, almost reverent.
His tongue and fingers find my clit, gentle at first, then steady, controlled.
The rhythm builds until I am gasping, moaning, coming apart again and again from nothing but his mouth and hands.
“Oh, Goddess,” I cry, my toes curling into the sheets.
The realization hits me hard. No man has ever taken this kind of time with me, never given himself so completely to my pleasure. He asks for nothing. His focus stays locked on me, as if my response is the only thing that matters. Romero is exactly what he seems, generous, attentive, never selfish.
“Please, Romero,” I pant, breath breaking. “That’s enough. I can’t take any more.”
My body feels like it might burst if he keeps going. I’m not a virgin anymore, not since Gabriel, but it was never like this. Never this intense. The pleasure borders on pain, sharp and overwhelming.
If I don’t stop him, he might keep going all night. And suddenly I want him to feel what he has done to me. I push myself up and shift us, guiding him back onto the bed as he kisses me.
“My turn,” I say, grinning.
I mirror everything he just gave me, tracing the same paths, lingering in the same places.
His cock is hard, thick, pulsing in my hands.
I cup him, stroke him, let my tongue do the rest. His moans deepen every time I take him further, every time the tip presses against the back of my throat and I gag, not from reluctance, but devotion.
“Enough,” he growls, hips tightening. “I don’t want you ruining those lips.”
He pulls me back up, mouths colliding again, then shifts until my legs are spread wide beneath him. His knee nudges mine apart, and I feel exposed under the heat of his gaze. His tongue slides into my mouth as his cock settles against me, fitting perfectly.
I moan. This is it. It has been too long since I felt this kind of connection. He hisses against my lips, eyes squeezed shut. For the first time, I don’t care about consequences. If this makes us true mates, then let it be fate.
“You like that?” he gasps.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Romero, take me.”
That is all it takes. Something wild slips free inside him. He drives into me, every movement deliberate, every thrust designed to pull pleasure from us both. He fills me completely, reaching deep, hitting places that make my breath stutter.
My fingers dig into his back as my hips tighten, trying to hold him closer, draw him in deeper. He groans, his grip tightening on my breast, pleasure making him rougher without ever losing control. I bite my lip, fighting a scream.
He silences me with his mouth, swallowing my sounds as I shatter beneath him. I tremble through it, undone, my body giving way.
“You feel so good,” he growls. “You’re so tight I’m not going to last.”
“Don’t stop,” I plead. “Please.”
He doesn’t. His thrusts grow harder, faster, until he flicks my nipples just right and sends me tumbling again. One final, powerful movement and we fall apart together, our voices filling the room as everything crests at once.
He collapses onto me, his breath hot against my neck. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as the shaking eases and the pulse between us slowly fades. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes meet mine, bright with warmth and something dangerously close to devotion.
His fingers brush my cheek. “I know we’re going to be happy together, Brianna.”
The sound of my name makes my chest tighten. For a brief moment, doubt flickers. Is this real? Is Brianna even who I truly am?
I smile anyway and nod.
“Thank you, Romero.”
Romero and I spend most of the night in bed. After the most incredible climaxes of my life, I finally fall asleep. Not just once—we came twice—and both of our energies are completely drained.
* * *
Someone is screaming.
Tall trees surround us, their trunks stretching endlessly upward. The sky above is gray, blending into the branches and the shifting silhouettes that move and crawl through the forest.
A massive Lycan roars in fury. A gray wolf clamps its jaws around the Lycan’s leg, blood soaking its fur, staining its muzzle and face. Voices collide all around me. Shouts. Growls. Chaos crashes into my ears from every direction.
Is this an attack?
“Get outta here! Go!” the gray wolf roars.
“Alexa!” Mr. Moris calls out from the ground, his body bleeding, his sharp eyes fading by the second.
My chest pounds wildly, completely out of rhythm. My breathing turns heavy, uneven. Sweat stings my eyes as it drips down, blurring everything in front of me.
The gray wolf keeps urging me to leave. But the Lycan turns toward me. It lunges. Claws out, sharp and deadly, ready to tear me apart.
No!
* * *
My lungs drag in a sharp, ragged breath. My chest aches instantly, pounding fast and hard against my ribs. I jolt upright, breathing hard, my pulse racing out of control. My body trembles as I turn toward the soft sound of breathing beside me.
“Romero…” I whisper.
His solemn face bathed in the soft morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. He’s still asleep.
Was it all just a dream? Then why does it feel so real? That gray wolf… that warning voice… it feels like it is still right there beside me. Fear creeps along my skin as I wrap my arms around myself, trying to steady my nerves.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Romero. My feet barely make a sound on the velvety carpet as I move toward the window sill. The clock reads around seven in the morning.
I just had a night full of passion with Romero, the noble of the most honorable pack. He’s rich, strong, intelligent—the kind of man who commands respect. Doctor, owner of the best university, surrounded by wealth and influence.
Still, deep down, I can’t stay. It isn’t because I’m unsatisfied.
On the contrary, this night was beyond anything I could have imagined—soft, tender, yet scorching me into a haze of pleasure.
But now, morning brings clarity. That dream is a bad sign and Mr. Moris might need my help.
I have to return to the club, no matter what.
“Leaving so soon?” Mythril whispers, stirring awake. “Can’t we stay?”
“No. We have to stay away from him and this pack,” I answer firmly.
Romero has invited me to join the First Light Pack. I’m tempted, I’d love to—being Luna wouldn’t be terrible. For a weakling like me, it would be an honor.
But after that dream, it’s clear Romero’s wealth won’t fix everything. If that gray wolf is Romero and I am the Lycan who goes berserk, then our union would only end in tragedy.
If I could master Mythril’s strength, maybe I could call on the Moon Goddess’ power to prove myself. That’s impossible for now, but I want to try. I need training.
After years of struggles, we’re close, somehow I know it. I trust the only way to speed my progress is to train with Mr. Moris. Only he can help me and somehow he needs my help. Maybe walk for a week to get to the Southern Star Club, wait until Alastair’s really gone.
I take a quick shower, pack my backpack without fuss, and slip into a simple outfit: clean black tee and jeans, prepared by the maid last night. I put on the scent-blocker necklace. Romero’s peaceful face looks like a sleeping child, and I don’t have the heart to wake him.
“Thank you, Romero,” I whisper softly.
I tiptoe out. With the sun fully risen, I notice how vast the house really is—a castle compared to my home, ten times larger.
“Are you sure you want to leave?” Mythril asks again, doubt lacing her voice.
I ignore her. Instead, I find the old gardener and ask for directions to the border gate. They show me the way out.