Chapter Thirty-four Amethyst
The forest is quiet in the morning. Gray light filtering through the trees. I move through the perimeter. Silent. Checking.
Same route as yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Two weeks now. Fourteen days of checking.
Morning. Evening. Every day.
Nothing. No tracks. No disturbances. No signs of intrusion. Just—
Us, trees, leaves, and the silence.
I complete the south circuit. Return to the cabin. Kade is coming from the north. “Anything?" I ask.
“No. You?"
“No."
We stand in the doorway. Looking out. Watching. But the tension is different now.
Less immediate. Less sharp. Still there. But no longer controlling every breath.
“Coffee?" Kade asks.
“Yes."
We go inside. Lock the door. Move to the kitchen. The routine is familiar now. Practiced.
He fills the pot. I get mugs. We work in silence. Comfortable. Easy. The coffee brews. Hot. Strong. We sit at the small table. Drinking our coffee. Like its just—
Normal.
“Another day," Kade says quietly.
“Yes."
“Nothing."
“No."
He looks at me.
“Maybe we are safe here."
“Maybe."
But I don’t believe it. Neither does he.
We finish the coffee. Clean up. Move through the day.
Together.
Five more days pass. Five more patrols. Five more days of finding nothing. But something has changed. Not outside. Inside.
Kade.
The way he looked at me this morning. The way his hand lingered on my hip. The heat in his eyes. It’s been building. Slowly. Steadily.
His touches linger longer. His eyes stay on me little too long. The tension is building between us keeps building. I know he can feel it like I can.
I complete my circuit. Return to the cabin. Kade is already inside. Waiting.
“Clear?" he asks.
“Clear."
He nods. But his eyes—
They’re different. Darker. Hungry. I feel it. The shift. The change.
Later that evening, I’m in the kitchen. Cooking. Something simple. Pasta. Sauce.
The smell fills the cabin. Garlic. Tomato. Herbs.
I’m wearing one of Kade’s shirts. Woke from a nap an hour ago and didn’t bother changing. Just pulled it on. It’s soft. Worn. Smells like him.
I stir the sauce. Taste it. Add salt. Stir again.
I can feel him. Behind me. Watching. He’s been watching me all day. Not openly. But more than usual.
I turn off the burner and turn around towards him. Ready to say something. Ask if he wants to eat soon.
But the words are stolen from my throat.
His eyes are dark. Fixed on me. Tracking every movement. Whatever restraint he’s been holding onto for the last two weeks is gone.
My pulse quickens. Heat floods through me. Instant. Overwhelming.
I want him.
Have wanted him. But this—
This is different. This is need. Desperate. Undeniable.
I lick my lips. Nervous. Anticipating.
His eyes flicker. Track the movement. Watch my tongue. Watch my mouth. His jaw tightens. Hands flex. He stands. Slow. Controlled.
But I see the tension. The restraint. The barely contained violence. He walks toward me. Each step deliberate. Purposeful.
I back up. Instinct. Until the counter hits my spine. Nowhere to go. He doesn’t stop. Keeps coming. Until he’s right there. Inches away. His hands go to my thighs. Grip. Firm. Possessive.
He squats slightly. Arms wrapping around my legs. And then—
He lifts. Like I weigh nothing. Sets me on the counter. The height puts us almost level. Eye to eye. His hands stay on my thighs. Holding. Claiming.
“Kade—"
My voice is breathless. Shaking.
“What’s wrong? What are you doing?"
His eyes meet mine. And what I see there—
It steals my breath.
“I fucking need you."
That’s all he says. Four words. Raw. Honest. Desperate. Enough to make my chest ache.
I smile. Can’t help it. Because I’ve wanted him. Been waiting. Waiting long enough that the waiting has become its own kind of torture.
He leans in. Kisses me. Hard. Not soft. Not gentle. Not careful. Just—
Consuming. His mouth claims mine. Demanding. Taking.
I open for him. Let him in. His tongue invades. Possesses. I bite his lip. Hard. Taste copper. Blood.
He groans. Deep. Guttural. The sound vibrates through me.
His hands grip my hips. Pull me closer. To the edge of the counter. My legs spread making room. His hips press between my thighs. The angle—
Perfect. Almost.
I can feel him. Hard. Straining against his pants. Right there. So close. His hands find the hem of my shirt. His shirt. Grab. Pull. Up and over my head. He throws it. Behind him. No bra. Just skin. His eyes drop looking me over completely.
“Fuck," he breathes.
His hands cup my breasts. Both of them. Palms warm. Rough. He squeezes. Kneads.
His thumbs brush over my nipples. Back and forth. Teasing. Building.
I arch into the touch. Want more. Need more. He leans forward. Kisses me again. Still hard. Still demanding.
Then down. My jaw. My neck. My collarbone. Lower. His mouth finds my shoulder.
The place he marked before. Weeks ago. The scare is barely visible. But he knows where it is.
His teeth scrape. Light. Testing. Then—
He bites. Hard. Breaking skin. I cry out. Sharp. Sudden. Pain and pleasure mixing. Blurring. His mouth stays there. Sucking. Marking. Claiming. His hand still cups my breast. Thumb still working my nipple. Circling. Pinching.
I reach for his head. Want to pull him closer. Or push him away. I don’t know. Can’t think. His other hand shoots up. Grabs my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. Keeping me still. He pulls back from my shoulder. Looks at me. Eyes dark. Feral.
“No."
His voice is rough. Command. Not request.
“We’re doing this my way this time. It’s been way too long."
I nod. Can’t speak. Can’t breathe. His hand on my throat. His eyes on mine.
Whatever he’s been holding back is gone. And I want it. Want him. All of him.
He releases my throat. Both hands go to my hips. Grip. Hard enough to bruise. He leans forward. Mouth finding my breast. His tongue circles my nipple. Slow. Teasing. Then— He takes it into his mouth. Sucks. Hard.
I gasp. Arch. His teeth close. Bite. Sharp. Painful. Perfect.
I cry out. That sound. The one only he pulls from me. Raw. Desperate. Broken.
He doesn’t stop. Bites harder. Sucks harder. His other hand still on my hip. Holding me in place. Keeping me from moving. From escaping.
Not that I want to. I’m his. Completely.
Maybe have been from the beginning.
He releases my nipple. Moves to the other. Same treatment. Tongue. Teeth. Biting. Marking.
I’m shaking. Trembling. Need flooding through me. Overwhelming. Consuming.
“Kade—"
“Quiet."
One word. Absolute.
I bite my lip. Obey. His hands move. Down my sides. To the waistband of my underwear. The only thing I’m still wearing. He hooks his fingers. Pulls. Down. I lift my hips. Help him. He strips them off. Throws them aside.
Now I’m completely bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. His.
He steps back. Just slightly. Looks at me. His eyes rake over every inch. Taking his time. Looking. Really looking.
“Fucking perfect," he murmurs.
His hands go to his belt. Unbuckle. Unzip. He shoves his pants down. Just enough. Frees himself. Hard. Ready. Desperate.
He steps between my legs again. Closer.
His hands grip my thighs. Spread them wider. Position me.
The head of his cock brushes against me. Teasing. Testing.
I’m already wet. Ready. Have been ready.
He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t tease. Just—
Thrusts. Hard. Deep. Filling me completely.
I cry out. Loud. Sharp. The stretch. The fullness. The perfect fucking fit.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust. Doesn’t ease in. Just takes.
His hands grip my hips. Bruising. Holding me in place. He pulls back. Almost all the way out. Then slams forward.
I brace my hands on the counter. Behind me. Trying to steady myself. But he’s relentless. Each thrust driving me back. The counter edge digging into my thighs. Pain and pleasure. Mixed. Inseparable.
His eyes are on mine. Locked. Watching. Seeing everything. Every reaction. Every gasp. Every moan.
“Mine," he growls.
Not a question. A statement. A fact.
“Yes."
The word tears from me. Broken. Desperate.
“Say it."
“Yours."
“Again."
“Yours. I’m yours."
He groans. Deep. Satisfied. His pace increases. Harder. Faster. Deeper. The sound of skin on skin. Wet. Obscene. Perfect. I’m close. So close.
The pressure building. Coiling. Ready to snap. His hand moves. Between us. Finds my clit. Circles. Rough. Demanding.
“Cum," he orders.
Not a request. A command.
And I do.
Can’t help it. Can’t stop it. The orgasm crashes through me. Violent. Overwhelming. Shattering.
I scream. His name. Over and over. He doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting. Keeps taking. Prolonging it. Extending it.
Until I’m boneless. Shaking. Destroyed. Then—
He follows. His grip on my hips tightens. Painful. Perfect. He buries himself. Deep. As deep as possible. And cums. Hard.
His whole body tensing. Shuddering. He groans. Low. Guttural. Primal. We stay like that. Connected. Joined. Both of us breathing hard. Trying to recover. Trying to come back. Slowly—
He pulls out. Careful. Gentle now. His hands soften on my hips. Soothing. Apologetic. He looks at me. Really looks. Checking. Assessing.
“You okay?"
His voice is rough. Concerned.
I nod. Can’t speak yet. Don’t trust my voice. He helps me down from the counter, steady and controlled, his hands firm against my waist like he already owns every inch of me.
My legs shake. Weak.
He pulls me against his chest, arm locking around me. Suffocating. Safe.
“I love you," he murmurs into my hair.
My throat tightens.
“I know."
“When this is over," he says quietly. “When Enzo is dead. When no one’s hunting us anymore…."
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His gaze locks onto mine.
“You’re mine."
The words slam into me. Not a confession. Not a promise. A claim.
“Kade—"
“No."
His hand tightens on my jaw.
“You’re going to wear my name so everyone who looks at you knows you’re already claimed.”
Heat curls low in my stomach.
“You’ll be my wife,” he says. “My fucking obsession. Mine in every way possible.”
His forehead presses against mine.
“And If anyone looks at you wrong…”
His voice drops lower. Deadly calm.
“I’ll make them regret they ever fucking existed.”