Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Darius
This isn’t the girl I remember.
The Violet who left six years ago was quiet. Timid. Afraid of her own shadow. She would never have climbed into my lap drunk and demanded answers. Would never have looked at me with this kind of fire in her eyes.
This Violet has been hardened by circumstances. By whatever she endured while she was away. By years of being, as she put it, unloved and unwanted.
She may be physically weaker than full shifters, but she’s not weak.
My wolf purrs deep in my chest, pleased and proud. This is our mate. Strong in ways that have nothing to do with claws or fangs.
She pulls my face close to hers, her grip on my tie aggressive.
“Who, Darius?” It sounds like she’s mocking me. Pushing. Waiting for me to say no so she can prove herself right. “Is it you? Do you love me?”
I stare into her hazel eyes and feel completely, utterly helpless. Does she understand how tightly she has me wrapped around her finger? Does she realize that I would burn the world down if she asked me to?
I’m the proud alpha heir. Arrogant. Controlled. Feared. Yet, in front of her, I am nothing. Just a man helpless against the pull of his mate.
The words are torn from me, raw and honest and impossible to hold back. “What if I say yes?”
I watch shock bloom across her face, see her eyes widen as the alcohol haze clears for just a second. She stares at me like she doesn’t understand, like I’ve said something impossible.
And maybe I have.
Because I shouldn’t be saying this. Shouldn’t be letting myself say these words when she’s drunk and defenseless and sitting in my lap with her hand gripping my tie.
But I can’t take them back now.
She blinks. The shock transforms into wariness. She stiffens against me and moves to climb off my lap.
“Let me go.”
My hands tighten on her waist, keeping her exactly where she is. “Stay there.”
“I said, let me go, Darius.”
“You started this.”
Her eyes narrow with irritation. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“Game?” The word makes hot, sharp anger flare inside me. I take her jaw in my hand, forcing her to look at me. My thumb traces the line of her cheekbone, and I pull her closer until our faces are only an inch apart. “This stopped being a game the minute you climbed into my bed.”
Her breath catches. For a heartbeat, I think she’s going to pull away. But then, her hand shoots up and fists in my hair, pulling hard enough that it hurts.
“I know you’re toying with me.”
I stare at her. This woman. My mate. So convinced that what I feel for her isn’t real, that I’m playing some cruel joke. My hands tighten on her waist, and frustration threatens to choke me.
“Do you really not feel it?”
The bond. The mate bond that has linked us since the day she turned eighteen. The connection that pulls me to her like gravity, that makes my wolf howl every time she’s near.
She narrows her eyes, her grip on my hair tightening. “Feel what?”
The question punches through me.
She doesn’t feel it. She has no idea what we are to each other. And I can’t tell her. Can’t explain why my entire world revolves around her when she should only be my stepsister.
I shake my head and pull her closer, until her chest presses against mine and I can feel her heart hammering. “Forget it. You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer.”
Her eyes narrow further, her fingers tugging at my hair in a way that sends heat straight down my spine.
I lean in close to her ear and murmur, “If you’re into rough play, I am more than happy to accommodate.”
“What—”
I flip her before she can finish the question. One second she’s straddling me, the next she’s sitting on my lap with her back to my chest. My arm bands around her waist, holding her in place while my other hand slides up to her throat.
She hisses, but I tighten my grip in warning. Just enough pressure to make her gasp. Not enough to hurt.
Never enough to hurt.
The scent of her arousal hits me instantly. Sharp and sweet and unmistakable. My wolf roars with approval, and I have to clench my jaw to hold back the sound that wants to rip out of my throat.
She wants this. She wants me.
Even drunk, even furious, even convinced I’m toying with her, her body knows the truth.
The hand that isn’t on her neck finds the waistband of her pants, and my claws extend just enough to slice through the fabric. The sound of tearing cloth fills the apartment.
She inhales sharply, going rigid. But when I tighten my grip on her throat again, she melts. Her head tips back against my shoulder, and a small sound escapes her lips.
“Still think I’m playing games?” I growl against her ear.
She doesn’t answer. Because my hand is already moving, already finding the heat between her thighs.
My fingers slide into wetness, her thighs opening for me without my uttering a word.
She’s ready for me. I thrust two fingers in, and she gasps softly.
Gone is the aggression from before. Now, she’s soft and pliant, emitting breathy moans and whimpers.
I pump my fingers inside her, and her head falls to the side. I watch her expressions, transfixed.
She’s so beautiful when she’s like this, raw and exposed.
I don’t stop the movements, curling my fingers inside her passage. Her slickness slips down my wrist, and I have to bite back my own groan of desire.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper against her hair. “Show me how much you don’t want this.”
She growls lightly, and I laugh under my breath.
As my fingers pick up pace, I can see her struggling to maintain some control and failing completely.
When she tightens around my fingers, her hands digging into my forearms, my thighs, anything she can reach, I feel a surge of dark satisfaction.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her neck, my teeth grazing her sensitive skin. “Let me hear you.”
I hear her moan my name again and again as she comes all over my hand. The air fills with her musk, and it’s driving me crazy.
Her body goes limp in my arms, trembling. I hold her through the aftershocks, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers.
I spin her around to face me again. After undoing my zipper and freeing myself, I lift her up by the waist, position her, and slam her down onto my cock. Her scream makes me even harder.
“Go on,” I groan, hands on her hips. “Ride me. Take what you want.”
And she does. Her fingers pull at my shirt as she moves herself on my cock, her eyes glazed with need and want.
Her teeth find my shoulder, biting down, tearing skin.
But the place where I want her to bite down the most, she doesn’t touch.
I grab her jaw and kiss her fiercely, savoring her, tasting the potent liquor she was trying to drown herself in.
She’s so fucking tight and perfect. My hands hold her waist in place, and I slam up into her.
Her cry is ragged, and she moves faster now, desperately seeking her pleasure.
I lift my hands to cup her breasts, pulling her shirt away to bite the soft, supple flesh, wanting my marks on her.
The ones from last night are still there, but I’m greedy.
I want every inch of her covered with me.
I want her to look in the mirror and see the evidence of us all over her.
“Darius,” she whimpers when she picks up speed, fucking herself faster on my cock.
She’s tightening again, and she’s not the only one nearing release.
I slide my hands down her breasts and the sides of her waist till they’re on her hips.
Then, I move us both onto the floor, taking control.
Her fingers claw at the rug as I fuck her, pistoning inside her at an inhuman pace, chasing my own pleasure.
She cries out as her orgasm hits her. Mine follows instantly.
I don’t pull out. Even when I want to, I can’t make myself do it.
Violet has ruined me for anyone else. Sweaty and panting, I look down at her dazed expression.
Her eyes flash gold—a soft hue, but I know what it is. Her wolf is clearly not as dormant as we all thought. It must be because of our intimacy; maybe that is what is forcing her wolf to awaken. And if that is the case, Violet will ultimately feel our fated mate bond, won’t she?
I hear the puppy barking from the bedroom, and I swallow a laugh. “We scared your dog away.”
“Cinnamon,” Violet breathes. “Her name is Cinnamon.”
I brush her hair from her forehead, whispering, “Do you like her?”
She nods mutely.
“Good.” I kiss her gently, and her eyes flutter shut.
The world slowly comes back into focus. I sit up on the floor, resting my back against the couch. Violet comes with me, sprawled across my chest, her breathing still ragged. Her skin is flushed and damp with sweat, her hair a wild tangle.
She’s beautiful. Absolutely wrecked and beautiful.
I run my hand down her spine. She shivers at the touch but doesn’t pull away.
“Come on,” I murmur hoarsely. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I hear a soft grunt of protest, but she doesn’t resist when I shift her slightly to one side. I stand up and scoop her into my arms, ignoring the way my muscles protest.
She blinks up at me, her eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.”
I carry her to the bathroom and set her on the counter while I turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam begins to form.
When I turn back to her, she’s watching me with an expression I can’t read. Helpless and guarded all at once.
I take off the rest of my clothes, then hers, before guiding her under the spray, supporting her when her legs threaten to give out. The water runs over both of us, and I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands.
“You don’t have to,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
But I want to. Need to. This is part of it, part of caring for your mate after claiming her. Even if she doesn’t know that that’s what this is.