Fair Warning: This chapter contains sexual and mature scenes that might not be suitable for some audiences, especially those below the age of 16.
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Regardless of how much my body craved a peaceful slumber, I discovered with blank terror a few minutes later that I wasn't alone. My eyes fluttered open and I caught sight of a tall shadow standing by the bed. "Er? Is that you?" I stifled a yawn and failed miserably.
Although it was indeed a man's voice that answered me, I knew it wasn't my best friend. "Is that who warmed your bed while I was gone?" His voice was gentle and low but there was no mistaking the threat that lay there.
My body froze, my hands were clutching the soft fabric of the duvet as if they were ropes and my life depended on it. Yet before I could move or force my immobilized throat muscles to mutter a response — any response at all, the mattress beside me dipped under a new weight, and those strong arms that I knew all too well reached for me, drawing my body against bare and aroused male flesh while his warm mouth took mine in the kind of deep and sensual kiss that spread warmth all over my body and curled my toes. It was the kind of kiss that would steal someone's breath away.
And for one brief, appalled instant, I felt my body arch against him in response as instinctive as it was shocking. It missed him, his touch, so damn much, just like me.
But this wasn't right. He wasn't sane. He was sick.
Reality kicked in and I tore my lips from his punishing mouth, trying to push him away despite my own body's need to be with him and to relinquish control. "No, Ryker. Not like this. No."
His once gentle touch turned into something else. Something different. He yanked my shirt open, pushed down my bra, and planted his hot mouth on my breast. His lips closed in on my nipple and he bit hard, enough to inflict both pain and pleasure. Despite my common sense telling me that this was wrong, my inner body rejoiced in a little bit of pain mixed with pleasure, no matter how wrong that was.
'It's him. Who cares if he's a little rough?'
I stopped moving completely. Had I just imagined that or had I truly heard my wolf speaking?
'No, you're completely insane and making this shite up,' she said again, his voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. 'Of course, it's me, moron.'
"Are you alright?" he surprised me by whispering against my neck, which luckily pulled me back to my current situation.
'Let me take over here, girl, I'm hungry. I want Khrysaor.'
Before I could muster a response, all of a sudden I was shoved to the backseat as my legs hooked around Ryker's waist, my back arching. The evidence of his arousal was pressing against my stomach and I heard my mouth let out a moan.
'Wait, whoever you are, stop this instant! Slow down! Ryker and Khrysaor are sick! They're not in their right mind. This might end in a disaster!'
Ryker was kissing me back now, his tongue taking over the wild tango of our lips. He kissed me with this barely suppressed need, this searing heat that felt like it had been building forever. It hit me so hard that I found myself drowning in the pleasure and shutting my mind up.
My own hands slid down his back, pushing his wet T-shirt up. He was wet all over and it must be due to the raging storm outside. Nonetheless, I didn't care as I ran my palm across his damp, warm skin. His hand moved between my thighs, rubbing against my already sensitive skin. Then he started grinding his pelvis against mine as he bit my bottom lip. I groaned out loud as once again, the pain was mixed with pleasure.
There were so many emotions in the air and even though I knew I should stop this and take a step back to assess everything, my brain was rendered speechless at this point and my body's need was far bigger than any common sense. When he dipped his fingers into my throbbing core, I nearly lost my mind. Ryker maintained this undulating rhythm while his fingers were dipping in and pulling back out. My knees squirmed, trying to hold him in, as I raked my fingernails into the muscle of his back.
I wasn't sure who did what but our clothes were soon discarded and thrown on the floor by the bed. He looked me right in the eyes and then opened his mouth to ask something that my wolf cut off with a kiss, curling my fingers against the back of his neck. I enjoyed the feeling of his hairs tickling my skin, the friction between our body. The air was thick and heady in the air between us, my breath coming in sharp pants. It was becoming too much, almost too much and too fast at once. All these feelings and hunger inside of me needed an outlet. They needed to be sated.
As if he could sense the urgency, he lined himself up with my opening and slowly worked himself. He didn't take any second to push himself in as he could tell that I was already soaking wet. A small gasp escaped my mouth but stifled by the hot press of his lips. He kissed me, the slickness of his tongue invited me into this frenzy dance, and slowly my body finally adjusted to this sensation that I hadn't tasted in what felt like a long time. It was a little tight, a tiny bit uncomfortable, but it felt so damn good. It got better when he began to move. Slow but strong movements of his hips pushed us closer and closer together.
Then his mouth moved to kiss the lines of my jaw then down to my neck. I could feel his teeth grazing my skin, his canines pressing in, almost breaking my skin. When they finally did, I moaned in both delectable pleasure and sharp pain. He sucked my skin into his hot mouth. I felt light, my consciousness was slipping as blood was sucked out of my body through those small wounds. Once he was done drinking, he lapped his tongue over the wound and planted small kisses as if to tell me how sorry he was that he was doing this to me, hurting me.
His head lifted up from my neck, just enough so he could lock his eyes with mine, his dark hair falling around his face. Without him even saying anything, I could tell that he was trying to ascertain whether I was okay or not.
Amidst the darkness, there was still a bit of light from the bed lamp on the nightstand beside us. I watched his eyes flickering from silver to black to silver. Something must have surprised him because his eyes widened for a split second and a small frown formed on his forehead. "You have a wolf," he whispered in pure amusement before his eyes switched to black completely. "Hello, Seymour." This time his voice was more like a growl and I could tell with every fiber of my being that this was Khrysaor. There was a full minute of silence. "Why aren't you saying anything?" Khrysaor asked again.
I blinked. Was my wolf mute?
'I'm not mute, how dare you?! I'm just too tired. I have no energy left. I'm going to hand the control back to you soon and rest.'
Slowly but surely, I started to gain control of my body. I could move my fingers and wiggle my toes. And before I fully recovered, I heard my wolf say, 'Magic may not take a toll directly on you but it did —it does on me.'
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Dear Readers, how art thou? Another week has gone by, time indeed flies. Did you catch the drift? There truly is a reason why Seymour has been missing and now we know... what do you think Xy should do to get her wolf back? 🐺