Kairos is pacing inside Darien, growling. "Touch her. Hold her. She’s ours. She’s right there."
For once since they’ve met Heidi, Darien actually wants to listen to Kairos. He growls, eyes squinted and fixated on Heidi. It’s the kind of sound that says I’m about to make a point, and you’re not going to like how I do it.
Bet she gets the message because she sucks in breath and staggers backward in bed. The air thickens between them, making the tension so palpable, it can be smelled from miles away.
"You think I’m the enemy?" His voice is quiet, but the quiet is worse than shouting.
She swallows hard, eyes darting anywhere but his face. "You..." She stops, then starts again. "You act like..."
"Like I’m the master?" he cuts in, taking a slow step forward.
Her spine presses against the headboard. "You are not my master."
The corner of his mouth lifts in a wry smirk. "Oh, little wolf," he murmurs, "I think the bond disagrees."
Kairos rumbles in agreement, tail swishing lazily in his mind. "She’s bluffing. I can smell it."
Darien knows better than to listen to Kairos because it’s obvious his wolf loses all sense of reasoning at the slightest scent of Heidi, but still, he takes another step. The mattress dips under his weight as he braces one knee on it, closing the space between them inch by inch.
Heidi’s breathing faster now, but that’s a mistake since every inhale of hers carries Darien’s scent deeper into her lungs, curling the longing around her restraints until it can snap them in two.
And then the bond starts to hum. It’s faint at first, like static in the background. But it’s growing... threading through Darien’s chest, tugging at his heartbeat, and pulling at every nerve of his. His mouth goes dry. His palms itch to touch her.
She sees it in his eyes; the moment the seriousness hits. Her own body betrays her as she makes a nervous squirm before shifting her deeper into the pillow. Her thighs press together like she’s making a shield subconsciously.
He notices. Oh, he notices.
"You’re nervous," he says softly, boring his needy gaze into hers..
"I’m not..."
Little liar.
"You are," he interrupts again, almost gently, but his gaze doesn’t soften. "And you’re not sure if it’s because you want to get away from me... or because you want me closer."
Kairos literally preens at that, mischievous and needy all at once. "She wants us. She’s ours. Don’t scare her, pull her in."
He plants his other knee on the bed, caging her between his arms without touching her. His breath is warm on her face, his presence drowning out every thought in her head. The whirr of the bond grows sharper now, but it’s a sound only for their ears.
Only for those whose desires are about to lord over their better judgment.
Slowly, Darien trails a finger along the delicate inner face of her thighs. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this."
She opens her mouth... but no words come. Instead, she shivered, allowing the aching tension between them to build.
And that’s when it hits... hard. The bond spikes like lightning, a shock that jolts straight through his chest, down his spine, flooding every nerve with heat. It’s raw, undeniable, and his self-control crashes under the weight of it.
Kairos is ecstatic. "Finally, Darien. Finally."
He dips his head, so close his lips brush the corner of hers without sealing the kiss. Her breath rises and Darien chuckles at her goosebumps when his hands cup around her neck.
The feel of him next to her—his chest rubbing her breasts all sends an acute surge of desire through him. So much so that he has to shut his eyes to absorb the sensation slowly.
He draws himself closer, letting her nipples caress his chest behind the fabric of his shirt she’s on. One that looks crazily sexy on her, by the way.
"D–Darien... you’re too close." She whimpers, shrivelling back when it’s clear he’s breaching all of her defenses.
Darien’s mouth is set in a hard line. "You think I’m going to let you run after saying those things? No, little wolf. I’m going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to."
One... two... th-
-then, his mouth claims hers. It’s not gentle or careful. It’s desperate in the way a man can be desperate without even knowing how much he needs something until it’s in his hands. It’s one hell of a liquid kiss that rushes lust through him.
She gasps against him, and the sound shoots straight through him. His hand comes up to cup her jaw, tilting her face to deepen the kiss. The other presses into the mattress beside her hip, steadying himself because the rush of the bond is enough to make his knees weak.
Every second stretches long. Her lips part under his, and the warm, sweet, and intoxicating taste of her makes him groan low in his throat. She makes a small, startled sound in response, and his control frays further.
"You’re not playing fair." She whispers when he allows his erection to cushion against her belly.
She has no idea.
He scoffs. "Fair? There’s nothing fair about the way I want you, little wolf."
And then, his thumb brushes over the curve of her cheek, and he feels the faint tremor there. She’s still timid, still unsure, but she’s not pushing him away. If anything, she’s leaning into him.
Kairos is shameless now, urging him forward. "More. She’s soft, she’s warm, she’s ours. Touch her."
He obeys. His free hand drifts from the mattress to her side, fingers sliding over the curve of her waist. The thin fabric of the shirt does nothing to hide the heat of her skin. He feels the sharp little inhale she takes when his fingertips brush just under the hem.
Her heartbeat is pounding—he can hear it, feel it, taste it in the air. The scent of her; wolf, woman, want... is dizzying.
"Still think I’m the enemy?" he whispers against her mouth, the question half a tease, and half a growl.
She makes a pleading sound that only makes him want to push further.
The shirt hem lifts under his touch. Inch by inch, he exposes her warm skin to the cool air. She shivers, and his lips leave hers just long enough to trail along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot below her ear.
Her fingers twitch against the sheets, as if fighting the urge to grab him.
"Say stop," he murmurs again, though it sounds more like a challenge now.
She doesn’t.
Kairos is all but howling in triumph. "She’s letting us. She’s choosing us."
Darien’s mouth returns to hers, hotter this time and hungrier. His hand slides higher on her naked body, mapping the slope of her ribs, the softness of her side. Every inch he touches feels like he’s claiming something and the fervour of her response is enough answer...
... this is all them—not one but two people choosing to lose themselves in the maelstrom of a bond beyond the mundane. Of a madness they know too well would only breed destruction, and yet, they submit to it.
Because of what use is denying oneself such euphoric bliss? Of what use is fighting the inevitable when it’s damned to catch up with you?