Sylvan

Chapter 23

People moved back giving Noah space as he hauled both of us away from the bar. I glanced at his side profile. His emerald eyes flared wild and the muscle in his jaw ticked. He looked formidable. Even our intoxicated schoolmates had enough sense to not come his way right now.

I'd be honest I was a little scared too, even though I knew he'd never hurt me. Or maybe I just didn't like seeing him angry or upset.

I was expecting Noah to lead us out of the house, but to my surprise we went up the winding staircase in the living room. It seemed no one was allowed upstairs because the hallways were empty here.

My legs moved fast trying to keep pace with his long strides. "I seriously hope you don't make the habit of angrily dragging me out of parties to lone rooms," I said, not liking the tense silence between us.

Noah's grip on my arms tightened but he didn't say anything. Perhaps, it wasn't right time for the humor.

We stopped at the large double wooden doors. It had intricate designs engraved on its dark surface, strange shapes and creatures, giving it a gothic look. A fist sized alloy carved into some old looking man's face with beard hung on top. When Noah opened the door, the face split in half. We stepped inside the dark room.

"Where did you bri-"

My words got swallowed as his lips crashed against mine. The heavy doors were shut behind me and I was pinned against them. There was an urgency with the way he kissed me, pouring out his anger and frustration. His lips were demanding, taking it all without asking.

It took all of my will to push him away. "Wait, I have questions."

"Please, I need this," he pleaded, his green eyes shining against the darkness. The rage in them was yet to dim. His hold around me hardened. "I'm seconds away from going back there and pummeling my douchebag future king."

"King?" I whispered.

He squeezed my waist. "Shh, I'll answer everything," he said impatiently before diving back into my mouth.

Noah sucked and nibbled on my swollen lips, leaving me a red hot moaning mess. He was dominating and assertive. He pulled away from my lips to drop wet kisses along my jaw. He moved down to my neck and bit at the tender skin. I whimpered and in reply received a pleased growl. I craned my neck into submission, and that was all the encouragement he needed before his lips, tongue and teeth went wild.

By the time he was finally done with me, I knew I was sporting multiple new colorful hickeys. His iron grip on me loosened and he dropped gentle kisses all over the bruises as a thank you. I was flushed and panting like I had run a marathon. Had it not for him supporting me, I would've slumped down on my wobbly knees. 

"Am I going to be your punching bag every time you get angry?" I said.

"Kissing bag," he corrected, "and I didn't see you complaining a second ago."

"I don't like it when you're angry," I mumbled.

He pulled me into his chest. "You know, I'd never hurt you, right?" There was a strain in his voice like it pained him that I'd even think about him hurting me.

"I know," I reassured him, "don't stop yourself from feeling things in my behalf. Get angry and we'll kiss it away."

His chest vibrated against my cheek as he chuckled. 

We hugged each other for who knew how long, my soft plump body squished against his hard one. I felt content being in his arms.

"You're hiding things from me," I stated, finally leaving the comfort of his warm chest.