Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
“Touch me.”
Varek freezes at my words.
“It’s okay,” I add, quieter but no less certain. “I want you to.”
And I do.
Heat presses against me, stealing my breath and turning interest into something far more urgent—consuming, relentless, impossible to ignore.
Whether it’s my words, the honesty of them, or something deeper—my scent, the bond, him—whatever it is, Varek reacts.
All of him.
His entire presence shifts.
Varek goes full predator.
His hot silver gaze sears over me head to toe as he looks at me like he’s already decided exactly what he’s going to do.
I shiver, letting the intensity of Varek’s heat wash over me—his control as his large hand cups my neck, his certainty when he brushes one of his fingers across my bottom lip, and the sheer force of him when I felt the firm outline of his cock against my thigh.
And then it hits again. Harder this time.
The heat doesn’t just return—it surges.
It tears through the space between us, no longer contained, no longer dulled.
It slams into me like a physical thing, flooding my system with that same overwhelming combination of need and pressure, but now it’s stronger and more intense.
It’s edged with something that feels dangerously close to pain.
I gasp, my body reacting instantly, my hands gripping his arms as the sensation spikes through me. “Fuck—”
Varek jerks back like he’s been burned. “No,” he says, already pulling away. “I should not—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, my grip flexing despite my body screaming in confusion and heat. “Don’t you dare stop.”
His control is slipping—I can see it. Feel it. The bond is alive with it now, pulsing between us like something that’s been waiting years for this exact moment.
“It will worsen,” he warns, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “You are not prepared—”
“Then tell me what to do,” I shoot back.
That stops him.
For a second, everything holds—coiled and on the edge. Then he exhales, controlled and deliberate. “You must not resist it,” he says. “The pain comes from suppression. From conflict.” His gaze locks onto mine. “If you accept it, it will change.”
“Change how?”
His voice is careful. “Into what it is meant to be.”
I swallow, my pulse hammering, the heat building again, pressing in from every angle. “Right,” I mutter. “No pressure.”
Another wave hits. This time I don’t fight it. I let it in.
And… it shifts.
The cutting edge dulls, the pain uncoiling into something else entirely. The pressure doesn’t disappear, but it transforms—warmth instead of hurt, intensity instead of strain. It takes hold of my body like it belongs there, like it’s been waiting for permission.
My breath leaves me in a slow, unsteady exhale. “Oh.”
Varek goes very still. “You feel it,” he says, quieter now.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “Yeah, I—”
I don’t finish the sentence because now it’s not just overwhelming. It’s right.
Not normal. Not familiar.
But right.
The bond thrums, steady and bright, feeding into the heat instead of fighting it. Every nerve in my body feels tuned to him, to the space between us, to the tension that’s no longer being held back.
I look at him. Really look this time. And whatever hesitation I had left burns away.
“Yeah,” I say again, softer now but certain. “We’re doing this.”
That’s all it takes.
The restraint snaps.
Varek moves.
Fast.
His hands are on me, careful but unrelenting, pulling me closer as the heat surges again, stronger now that it’s no longer contained. My shirt is gone before I fully register the movement, the air hitting my skin cool and biting in contrast to the warmth pouring through me.
I return the favour, hands working over him without hesitation, dragging fabric out of the way, needing—needing—to feel more.
There’s no time for overthinking.
No space for doubt.
Just instinct.
Just heat.
Just him.
And then—
I see him.
Fully.
Properly.
And for a second, everything else fades.
Because Varek—
Christ.
He’s not human. I’ve always known that. Always seen it in pieces—in glimpses, in flashes, in the way he moves, the way he looks at the world. Hell, his iridescent purple skin is a physical reminder.
But this? This is something else entirely.
He’s built like a weapon. Like something designed with purpose, strength layered over strength, muscle defined in a way that’s almost unfair. His skin catches the low light, those faint luminous markings more visible now, tracing along his body like something alive.
And lower—
I suck in a breath. “Right,” I mutter, a little breathless. “That’s… not what I was expecting.”
Varek stills for half a second, his gaze snapping to mine. “Is it—” he starts, something dangerously close to uncertainty threading through his voice. “—unacceptable?”
Making eye contact, I huff out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, my pulse still hammering. “Hell no,” I say, easing closer again, closing what little space remains between us. “If anything, it’s the opposite of that.”
The tension snaps again, this time into something that feels very much like inevitability. Because now, there’s nothing left holding us back.
My gaze drops again, slower this time, taking him in properly.
He’s unmistakably male, but nothing about his cock follows human rules. There’s a weight to his dick, a presence even here—something built for claiming, for holding, for not letting go. And lower.
I pause, because there’s a thickening at the base that draws my attention immediately. Subtle when he’s still, but impossible to ignore once I notice it. It’s not just size—it’s structure. Purpose.
“Is that a knot?” I know it is even as I ask. I’m not much of a reader, but I’ve picked up a few shifter paperbacks over the years to put two and two together. But there’s nothing fictional about the size of his hard cock, nor the swollen flesh of his knot at the base.
Varek’s entire body goes rigid. “It forms during heat,” he says, voice low, controlled, but strained around the edges. “It is used to… secure the bond.”
Secure.
The word falls heavily—and then drops straight through me, hitting low and hard, making my cock pulse in response before I can even pretend otherwise.
My eyes flick back up to his, something harder settling into my expression. “Yeah,” I say, breath catching a little. “I figured it wasn’t just decorative.”
His gaze darkens—heat, tension, a deeper emotion that answers mine without hesitation. And instead of pulling back, I push him. He goes with it—not resisting or stopping me.
He lands back against the furs with a controlled exhale, and I follow, moving over him before I can second-guess it, settling across his hips like this is something I’ve done a hundred times instead of something that should feel terrifying.
It doesn’t. It feels right.
Varek’s hands come to my waist instantly, steadying and grounding me. His eyes search mine like he’s checking—always checking—that I mean it… that I want to be here, doing exactly this.
I do.
“Still good?” I ask, voice quieter now but steady.
“Yes,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in it. “You?”
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Yeah, I’m—”
I don’t finish the sentence because I am. Hell, I’m more than that.
I should ask questions. About how this works. About what to expect. About the very obvious differences between us that my brain is only just catching up with. Instead, I lean down and kiss him.
It’s not tentative. Not careful. It’s a collision.
Heat meeting heat, the bond flaring bright between us the second our mouths connect. His lips are warm, firmer than mine, and for a split second there’s a pause—like he’s giving me the space to pull back if I want to.
I don’t. I press in closer.
That’s all the permission he needs.
The restraint he’s been holding onto finally fractures—not gone or turned reckless, but loosened enough that it changes everything. His hand slides up my side, spanning my bare ribs carefully, pulling me just that fraction closer as his mouth moves against mine with a depth that steals my breath.
His tongue brushes mine, and yeah, that still feels different.
It’s longer, broader, and definitely warmer than anything I’m used to. The sensation’s still unfamiliar enough that it sends a jolt of awareness straight through me. It’s not awkward. Not wrong.
Just… more.
More pressure. More heat. More him.
I make a sound against his mouth before I can stop it. It’s low and rough and gets swallowed by the kiss.
The bond surges in response.
Not just warmth now.
Need.
It floods through me again, but this time it isn’t edged with pain. It’s smoother and heavier. Like my body’s finally caught up and stopped fighting it.
Varek exhales against my mouth, a coarse, unsteady sound that I feel as much as hear.
“You feel it,” he murmurs, the words barely there between breaths.
“Yeah,” I manage, dragging in air that doesn’t quite feel like enough. “Hard not to.”
The heat rolls through me again, deeper now, settling low and coiling.
His hands shift, careful even now, sliding along my back, mapping me like he’s finally learning something he’s waited far too long to touch. There’s a tension in him still, but it’s different—less restrained, more focused.
“You will not be harmed,” he says quietly.
I huff a breath, pressing my nose briefly against his neck. “That your version of reassurance?” I inhale, goose bumps breaking out when I take in his scent.
How the hell does he smell so damn good?
“Yes.”
“Right,” I mutter. “Good to know.”
I should ask more. Should slow this down.
Should—
I don’t. Because my body has already made the decision, and maybe, for once, I’m not fighting it.
I press a kiss against his neck, then angle up, catching his mouth in another kiss—slower this time, deeper, letting myself feel it properly. The heat between us builds with every second.
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the strength there, the firmness of his skin, the faint pulse of those markings that seem more alive now than before.