Chapter 118
Chapter 118:
It wasn’t a calming supplement. It was an ancient, highly restricted Lycan aphrodisiac designed to violently force a Fated Mate bond into The Heat. My father hadn’t sent a gift — he had set a trap to force an heir.
A bloodthirsty, deafening roar erupted in my skull. My Inner Wolf didn’t care about the deceit. The beast was completely unhinged by the suddenly suffocating sweetness of wild roses radiating from Adelina. She was flushed, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide as the drug hijacked her nervous system.
Mate. Claim. Mark.
The primal commands battered against my sanity. I gripped the marble counter so hard the stone cracked beneath my fingers. I was tearing myself apart, fighting centuries of instinct to keep from claiming her then and there. I couldn’t do this to her — not built on a lie, not while she still believed I belonged to another.
I forced my gaze to meet hers, my fangs fully descended, my chest vibrating with a ragged, agonizing growl.
“Tell me to stop, Adelina,” I rasped, the words scraping my throat like crushed glass. “Tell me to stop, and I will walk out that door p>
Adelina POV
Tell me to stop.
I stared into his molten gold eyes, the sheer, terrifying intensity of his hunger stripping away every lie, every boundary, and every last shred of my self-preservation. The contract didn’t matter. Fletcher didn’t matter. The only thing that existed was the agonizing, hollow ache in my core that only he could fill.
My lips parted, my voice a trembling, desperate whisper.
ро𝗽𝗎𝗅𝘢𝘳 𝘀t𝗼𝘳і𝘦ѕ 𝗈n ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝘮
“Don’t p>
The word shattered the last of his restraint.
Kain crossed the kitchen in a terrifying blur. His massive hands framed my face, and he crashed his lips onto mine. A violent, blinding explosion of electric sparks ripped through my body, drawing a cry from my throat that he swallowed whole, his tongue sweeping past my lips with a starving, possessive rhythm that melted my bones entirely.
He didn’t break the kiss as he lifted me effortlessly by the thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair.
We stumbled down the hallway, a chaotic trail of discarded clothing marking our path. Kain tore his tailored jacket off and threw it aside. His fingers caught the knot of the $950 deep purple silk tie I had bought him — the symbol of my polite, careful boundaries. With a guttural snarl of absolute disgust, he ripped the silk from his neck and threw it onto the cold marble floor.
He kicked the heavy oak door of the Master Den shut behind us.
The room was bathed in the faint, glittering light of the New York skyline. Kain lowered me onto the center of the massive bed, the cool black silk sheets a stark contrast to the raging fire consuming my skin. He followed me down, his heavy, scarred chest pressing flush against mine.
As his lips trailed down my jaw, branding my skin with scorching heat and electric sparks, the last coherent thought in my mind quietly surrendered to the beautiful, terrifying darkness.
If this is fake, I don’t want what’s real.