Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Alaric drops the assassin’s body onto the floor like it’s trash someone forgot to take out. The sound hits the stone vidis die thud! I feel in my ribs. He’s breathing hard–controlled, maybe,, but the kind of controlled that tells me he’s one ich zway from tearing the entire pack house apart.
His eyes cut to me. Amber, edged with that feral silver I’ve only seen when he’s one breath from losing it completely
“Sorin p>
My name sounds like he’s dragging it out of his chest.
He steps over the corpse and cups my wrists before I even realize I’m shaking. His palms are warm. Mine are cold–cold from fear, cold from almost dying, cold from realizing he wasn’t asleep at all.
He wipes his hands clean and mine himself. Every smear. Every place the assassin touched me. He does it roughly at first, then slows down as though he realizes he’s not cleaning blood off me–he’s washing the moment off me.
“You okay?” he asks, quiet but too intense to be soft.
I nod once. “Just… get me out of here p>
He lifts me off the bed like I weigh nothing. His arm locks under my thighs, my chest pressed to his bare skin, his scent flooding my head before my thoughts can settle.
The dungeon fades behind us.
He carries me all the way up the stairs, through the torchlit hall, through the heavy doors–never loosening his hold, not even when his breathing falters like he’s replaying what almost happened.
By the time we reach his room, my heartbeat is a runaway train. His hand drops to my hip like he’s grounding me to keep me from falling apart.
“Do you want to wash up?” he asks.
I don’t trust my voice, so I nod.
He leads me into the bathroom.
The moment the lights flicker on, the room fills with steam and the faint scent of eucalyptus. The pool–like tub is already warming–he must’ve turned the system on before we took that damn nap.
He watches me while I undress, but not in a sexual way. In a you almost died in front of me and I need proof you’re still here way. I barely manage to step into the water when his hand comes to the small of my back, steadying me.
He sinks in behind me.
The water laps around us, warm enough to loosen the tension in my muscles, but not warm enough to erase the memory of a blade at my throat.
He takes a cloth and runs it down the inside of my arm. My breathing stutters.
“You’re still trembling,” he says.
“Because someone tried to fucking kill me while you pretended to sleep p>
He snorts. “I wasn’t pretending. I woke up the second his scent hit the room p>
Chapter 63
Then why didn’t you
“I wanted him to touch you
His tame lowers. Darkens. “So I had a reason to gut him slow p>
I swallow hard.
He keeps washing me, steady movements, like if he stops, even for a second, he’ll lose the thread and go back out there hunting whatever else wants me dead. His fingers brush my collarbone. My breath catches. He notices–of course he fucking notices—and his hands pause.
“Sorin p>
There’s warning in his voice. Or maybe hunger. I can’t tell.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.
“I’m not looking at you like anything p>
“You are,” he says. “You’re looking at me like you want to climb into my lap p>
I glare at him. “Do you ever shut up p>
He laughs under his breath–quiet, rough. “Not when you look like this p>
He keeps washing me, slower now, and something inside me flips. I turn slightly, take the cloth from him, and press it to his He keeps washing me, slower now, and something inside me flips. I turn sl chest.
His inhale is sharp.
I run the cloth down the center of his body, over the ridges of muscle, real, warm, solid under my palm. There’s a thin scar I never noticed before, near his ribs. His eyes lock onto mine like I just pulled a pin from a grenade.
“Sorin,” he says again, but this time it’s lower. Rougher.
“You asked if I could still go to Woodridge tomorrow,” I remind him, my voice steady even though my insides feel like they’re ready to melt. “I said yes. Nothing changes p>
“You nearly died p>
“Nearly isn’t did p>
His jaw tenses like he wants to argue but knows better. My hand skims lower, slow, deliberate.
His control cracks.
He grabs my jaw, pulls me toward him, and his mouth crashes onto mine. There’s no hesitation. No carefulness. He kisses me like he’s been hours away from losing me and needs physical proof I’m still alive.
I kiss him back because I want that proof too.
“Gods–Sorin-” His voice cracks, soft and raw.
I lean in, lips brushing his jaw.
“You’re already trembling p>
He is. The water ripples with it.
10:25 Wed, Jan 14 G
Chapter 63
When he doesn’t push me away, I kiss him just the corner of his mouth, light, almost insicent.
He shatters.
Alaric surges forward, grabbing my waist and crushing his mouth to mine so hard the edge of the tub bumps against my spine. His kiss is desperate–hungry in a way he’s never let himself be, tasting of restraint breaking open.
His hand slides underwater, fingers dragging up my thigh in a slow, devastating climb.
1 gasp against his lips.
“Sorin,” he growls, voice thick with need, “don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready for what happens p>
“Make it happen,” I whisper.
His hand reaches me.
I choke on my breath, fingers digging into his shoulders as his touch strokes through heat I’ve been aching with for days. The water muffles everything except the sound I make, embarrassingly soft, breathless.
Alaric’s head drops against my neck, breath trembling.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, but his touch deepens, drawing exactly the reaction he wants from me.
I can barely breathe.
I feel his fingers near my fold and I shiver before a slow, aching moan slips out of my lips as he enters a digit inside.
“Agh! Fuck.” I moan as the water enters with his hand, he pushes it deep inside, thrusting another finger and I’m loosened with the water. I throw my head back as I turn my hand onto him as well. I find his length underneath the water.
Shit, it’s already bulging. I groan and wrap my hand around it. My fingers don’t even touch. I could see every vein pulsating as I slowly, passionately run my hand up and down on it.
My own hand moves on instinct–finding him beneath the water, stroking him in the same teasing rhythm he’s using on me. His whole body jerks like he’s been shocked.
“Gods–Sorin-” His voice breaks open. “You’re going to kill me p>
“Then die beautifully p>
He groans–low, guttural, unrestrained.
His forehead presses to mine.
Water splashes with every shaky movement of our hands.
“Sorin…” His forehead presses to mine. He’s breathing like he’s fighting himself. I groan once more when he enters another finger and my hand jerks faster onto his rod, “I need p>
“I know,” I whisper as steam form between us. “Ugh… Alaric.” I whimper when he makes use of his thumb on my clit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I’m gonna cum…” My hand slowly stop running onto him as he thrusts in faster, harder inside my pussy and the next thing I know, I’m bouncing on his fingers on my own.
The coil inside me snaps without warning.
My breath catches.
10:25 Wed, Jan 14 GU
Chapter 63
My back arches
My fingers claw
is as the heat breaks over me & Brave the
gh? I van my head back at 1 wrap my arm around his neck when every juices flow out of my body to or wit mesh, 11e holds me through it, hand guiding me gently, almost reverently, until I collapse against him, the miting on his lap
He pulls his fingers out and I stare at him as he licks every digt he inserted inside of me. Fucking hell, this is sex Forst.
I wasn’t done with you,” he whispers against my cheek.
Then he stands.
He lifts me out of the tub like I weigh nothing–my wet legs instinctively tightening around his waist. Water trails down both our bodies as he carries me to the bed, his breathing ragged, jaw clenched like he’s seconds from losing himself completely
He lays me down carefully, brushing soaked hair from my face like he worships me.
Then he lowers himself.
Between my thighs.
I gasp, grabbing the sheets as his mouth meets my folds–soft, slow, unbearably gentle at first, then deeper as he listens to every sound I make. His hands hold my hips steady as I buck, as pleasure sparks through my already sensitive body.
“Alaric–wait- I just― I just p>
My voice fractures into a moan.
“I don’t care p>
He sounds ruined.
“I need you like this p>
I’m shaking again, thighs trembling around his head as his tongue rushes in and out and around my clit, drawing more helpless sounds from me–too many, too fast, too intense. When I pull at his hair, he groans against me, the vibration shattering what little control I had left.
By the time he climbs up my body, kissing my stomach, my ribs, my throat, I’m dizzy.
He presses his forehead to mine.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he confesses, voice hoarse. “You’re- gods- you’re soaked for me p>
“I want you,” I whisper.
He guides himself against me, slow, cautious and I could feel his length stretching me out. Shit, this is more than I thought.
I tense.
Pain flickers through my expression.
His hands cradle my cheeks instantly.
“We go slow,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine. “Breathe. Stay with me.” He moves gently, inch by inch, until my nails dig into his back from the stretch.
“It hurts,” I breathe, shaky as I claw through the pillows.
Chapter
know.
Wed, Jan Ja
He kisses my tears five dey fall
“Tell me when it changes.
His thumb strokes my hip.
His voice is low, steady, grounding.
“That’s it… breathe with me just like that p>
Lattle by little, the pain softens–warmth blooming in its place.
“Alaric…
The way I say his name makes his eyes darken.
“Good,” he whispers. “There you are p>
He starts moving.
A rhythm that builds slow, deep, unbearably intimate–his breath stuttering against my neck, my fingers gripping his shoulders like he’s the only thing anchoring me. My moans mix with his broken groans, the room filling with heat and breath and the quiet, desperate sounds of two people losing hours to each other.
We don’t stop.
Not when I beg.
Not when he curses under his breath.
Not when the night deepens around us like a cocoon.
He doesn’t let go of me once.
By the time dawn threatens the windows, his voice is barely a whisper against my
“I’m never letting you go p>
throat:
I feel his breath against my skin. His hands grip my thighs, sliding upward, and my heart trips hard enough to hurt.
Everything between us tilts. Tightens. Breaks.
The moment turns hot–too hot, too breathless–and he lifts me from the water, his mouth never leaving mine. The air hits my skin in cold waves as he carries me out, dripping, my legs wrapped around him.
He lays me on the bed, wet hair plastered to my shoulders, his hands braced on either side of my head. His lips trail down my throat, lower, and–everything after that is just hands, skin, breath, whispers-
and the kind of intensity that could tear the roof off this damn palace.
Sunlight slides across my face. Soft, warm, annoyingly alive.
I blink awake to find Alaric sprawled beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other around my waist like his body refuses to accept the concept of personal space.
10:25 Wed, Jan 14 p>
Chapter 63
He looks younger in sleep: Le
still illegally hot, lai
a sofimed that should the herd on someone who
murders people like he’s taking out the inh
line
I reach an–jus lightly och the edge of lits jaw.
in catches my wrist instantly.
“You can keep deing that,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. I’m awake?
I roll my eyes. “Someone’s knocking p>
*m them knock p>
The knocking gets louder. More insistent.
“Alaric
I shove his shoulder.
He groans, drags his face into my neck, and kisses the side of it like he has zero intention of moving. “Five seconds p>
“No. Get up p>
He exhales like I’m ruining his entire life, then finally rolls away and stands.
Without. A. Stitch. Of. Clothing,
“Alaric p>
He’s already at the door.
He opens it.
Beta Cole freezes mid–sentence, staring at him like he’s witnessing a crime. The omegas behind him collectively gasp, one of them covering her face with the clothing packages.
“Morning,” Alaric says, completely unbothered. “Come in p>
“Alpha,” Cole chokes, looking anywhere but directly at him. The Omega with him is definitely in pain, “We–we brought the garments for the Woodridge ball and–breakfast–and–goddess above, can you please put pants on p>
V
The omegas scurry in, place the boxes down, set the food on the table, all while actively not looking at him.
I try to disappear into the sheets. Alaric definitely notices and smirks like the menace he is.
When they finally flee, Cole muttering something about needing therapy, Alaric closes the door and turns back to me with a look that promises trouble.
“Sorin,” he says slowly, “you’re blushing p>
“I’m not p>
“You are p>
“I hate you p>
“No, you don’t p>
Ugh, do we really have to go to the Woodridge Ball?
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