My Soulmates are IDOLS Books 2+3 | 18+ [SoulBond Series]

203:rabbit hybrid

And she'd tried so hard too, to make him like her. But the detest had burned in his eyes when she'd said those words, the burn of hatred and loathe. And it scared her then, it scared her so damn fucking much that she'd recoiled and stepped back. And her soul had pricked and burned in her chest, a sudden splash of water in boiling oil.

It was then when he turned red and then white, and then red again.

There's no such thing as just friends! I know what you want. I know what you're looking for, and if you tell me the truth, I can help you. I know how and what to do and I'll give you a way. Just tell me where JieMi is and fucking back down.

What did Ha-Eun think she was? A money digger? Someone only looking to get into JieMi's pants and leave? She'd shaken her head, had been honest to the group that stood in her way. But still Ha-Eun hadn't believed her and it was only then when Amber had pulled out her only triumph card. The tattoo of a rose on her finger, Sieon's soul bond, one that had yet to spark, one that she was determined to set alight one day.

I have a soulmate, she'd said. Whatever you're instigating it's not it. Ha-Eun had flounced away arrogantly after that, a retreat after sighting of evidence on her fingers. And Amber had let out a breath that she didn't know had been caught tight in her throat. She'd felt eyes burning in her skin when the lights had dimmed and her professor played a clip from a movie. Eyes that were not those from the unkind, but from the curious.

The climax of a romance movie, a screaming actress and actor in the rain.

And she'd turned to see JieMi—alone, arms crossed, head propped. She'd caught sight of his eyes then. Eyes that were nothing she would ever expect. Eyes that were not steely, violent or dark. These were the eyes that she liked, the eyes that made her heart beat and her chest warm. Eyes that rippled with emotions; a droplet of water into the sea, turned into a waterfall and then a tsunami.

She expected him to run, not stagger and shake as he stumbled out of the lecture hall like a new-born foal. She expected weakness not sickness. He was sick, he was definitely sick. And her concern that was etched with confusion and frustration transformed into full-blown worry that ate at her insides.

She'd made a plan to wait in his room that night, told herself that there was no point combing the campus for him, told herself that a quick jog at the gym would clear her head. There was no point finding him if he didn't want to be found. And that was the truth.

But her soul had other plans as always, or perhaps more specifically, his soul.

They were trapped in the locker, sandwiched together, skin to skin. The door was jammed from the outside and her phone tossed to the ground of the locker at her feet. The only form of salvation in this awful situation. His masculine body was pressed flushed to hers, feverish and hot as he rocked against her skin. So, so deliciously hot in the stale chilly cold of the room.

She couldn't see him, but she could feel him nosing her neck, sniffing at her skin as his lips ghosted her flesh. It drew goose bumps over her flesh in its wake and her heart quickened in her chest. And she tried to think, but it was impossible with the man who seemed determined to burry his nose into the nape of her neck.

"JieMi!" She whispered, a harsh hiss through her teeth, but he didn't care as he began to lap at her skin, swirl a hot, wet tongue over her flesh, grazing teeth over sensitive flesh. It would be a lie if she said she wasn't aroused from his actions, a lie to deny the pulsate of her cunt that answered to the calls of his flittering touch.

It would be difficult not to be, with her own soulmate so close to her almost naked body. And his smell, that vanilla and pear sweetness, seemed to permeate the air like a heady drug that made her think of him and only him.

He began to hum, a low sweet throaty sound that seemed to soothe her racing heart as he continued licking and sucking her skin, pressing sweet little nose kisses up her shoulder and in her hair. It was then when she felt it, the push of his hot, dripping cock against her back, the long jutting appendage hard and all ready to go. The grind of his hips against the underwear clad curve of her ass sent a jolt of hot lust straight to her needy clit. And she grew afraid.

Not of him, never of him, but afraid of her own, pathetic heart.

"Hey! Snap out of it!" She hissed, reaching behind her to grip his hips, an attempt to steady him, but he simply growled and nipped at her skin, a sharp pinch of her flesh. A harsh clack of teeth that surprised her. She'd managed to turn over then, pushed herself against the cold locker so that she could see him eye-to-eye. It was a miscalculation on her part.

She really shouldn't have looked, shouldn't have turned over to face the truth of the situation that she'd failed to truly comprehend even when she'd stroked those velvety soft ears. He wasn't sick, no, not with the ears on his head and all sense of reason lost from his eyes, not with lips bloodied from too much biting and eyes hooded with lust.

He was a rabbit hybrid.