Selene

THE WALK back to my quarters feels endless. Seth carries me like I weigh nothing, his arms steady despite the way his heart is pounding against my side. I want to protest, to demand he put me down, but my feet throb with every slight movement, and the exhaustion weighing on me makes resistance impossible.

The fated mate bond thrums between us, alive and insistent in a way it hasn’t been for two weeks. It’s disorienting, like suddenly remembering how to breathe after forgetting you need air. Every point where his body touches mine sends sparks racing under my skin, and I hate it. I hate that my body responds to him when my mind knows better.

We finally reach my door, and he pushes it open with his shoulder, carrying me inside without asking permission. He sets me down on the edge of my bed with surprising gentleness, and I immediately try to scoot away from him.

“Stay still,” he orders.

“I’m fine,” I snap back, but the words sound weak even to my own ears. “I can heal myself.”

I press my hands to my feet, reaching for my healing magic. The familiar warmth should flow through my palms, knitting torn flesh and soothing pain, but nothing happens. My magic sputters weakly, barely a flicker, before dying completely. The exhaustion from whatever happened tonight has drained me completely.

“It’s not working,” I mutter, frustration making my voice gruff.

“Because you’re exhausted.” Seth disappears into my bathroom and comes back with a dampened cloth. “Let me—”

“No.” I pull my feet back protectively. “I’ll go to the healers’ wing—”

“And explain to them why you were roaming outside at night?” His eyebrow arches as he grills me. “How you ended up with cuts all over your feet? What you were doing wandering through the forest in your nightdress?”

My mouth opens, then closes. He’s right. Going to another healer means questions I can’t answer, and whispers will spread through the palace by morning. The prospect of that humiliation makes my cheeks burn.

“That’s what I thought.” He kneels in front of me, reaching for my foot. “Now stop being difficult.”

I want to argue, to push him away, but I’m too tired, and he has made a good point. I let him capture my ankle in his large hand, hating how even that simple touch sends heat racing up my leg. My wolf stirs eagerly at the contact, and I want to scream at her to stop it.

Seth works in silence, his touch surprisingly gentle as he cleans the cuts and scrapes covering my soles. Each brush of the cloth stings, but I bite my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me complain. His fingers are warm and steady, and I hate how safe they make me feel.

“This is going to hurt,” he warns before pressing the cloth against a particularly deep gash.

I hiss through my teeth, my hands fisting in the blanket beneath me. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.” He doesn’t look up from his work, his jaw tight with concentration. “I’m starting to think you don’t know what ‘fine’ actually means.”

“And I’m starting to think you don’t understand the words ‘leave me alone.’”

His mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close. It vanishes almost immediately as he reaches for the bandages I keep in my bedside drawer. His movements are too sure, like he knows exactly where everything is.

“Have you been snooping in my room?” I question him suspiciously.

“No.” He starts wrapping my foot with practiced efficiency. “But all the healer quarters are laid out the same way. Medical supplies are always in the same drawer.”

That makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why he’s being so careful, so thorough. His hands move with a gentleness that contradicts everything I know about Seth Rowan—the man who hurled cruel words at me like weapons, who made me feel small and worthless.

“There.” He ties off the bandage and moves to my other foot, repeating the process. “They should heal in a few hours, once you’ve rested.”

I pull my foot back the moment he’s done, tucking both legs under me despite the protest from my injuries. “You should go now.”

He sits back on his heels, still kneeling in front of me, his expression unreadable. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly very aware of how thin and damp my nightdress is. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Selene—”

“I said, ‘go.’” The words come out flat and final, with no room for negotiation. “Please, just leave.”

Instead, he stands and moves to the small table where a bottle of wine sits—a gift from Zane, still unopened. My chest tightens as Seth picks it up, examining the label with deliberate slowness.

“Put that down,” I demand.

He ignores me, opens the bottle, and finds two glasses. He pours a generous amount into each. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“That was from Zane. We were supposed to drink it together.”

A dark look, both possessive and irritated, flashes across Seth’s face. “Too bad.”

The deliberate provocation in those two words makes my blood boil. He’s being petty, I realize. Deliberately trying to get under my skin because—why? Because he can? Because he wants to see me react?

He holds out one of the glasses toward me, and I turn my head away, refusing to even look at it.

“Fine.” His voice carries a confrontational edge now, almost daring. “Then I’ll just drink your precious Zane’s entire bottle on my own.”

My hand shoots out before I can stop it, snatching the glass from him. I drain it in one long swallow, the wine burning down my throat and settling hot in my empty stomach. When I slam the glass down on the bedside table, Seth is watching me with clear amusement.

Heat immediately blooms across my skin—a warmth that spreads from my chest outward, making my cheeks flush and my pulse quicken. I tell myself it’s just the alcohol on an empty stomach, nothing more. I shift uncomfortably on the bed, trying to ignore the sudden sensitivity of my skin against the damp fabric of my nightdress.

“Didn’t know you had such a temper,” he says, refilling my glass.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” The words come out breathier than I thought they would, and I hate it. The heat is intensifying, settling low in my belly, making me hyperaware of Seth’s presence in my room. “And it’s none of your business.”

He settles into the chair across from my bed, too comfortable, too at ease in my space. “Since we’re fated mates, you are very much my business.”

I stare at him in disbelief, rage rising in my chest—along with other things I refuse to acknowledge. The warmth continues spreading through my body, making every nerve ending feel electric. I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.

“Are you serious right now?” My voice rises despite my attempts to control it.

“Completely.”

“Two weeks ago, you could barely stand to be in the same room as me.” This heat is making my thoughts fuzzy. “You made it crystal clear that I was beneath you, that I was too weak, too pathetic to ever be worthy of someone like you. And now, what? You’re singing a different tune because someone else wants me?”

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what this is.” I lean toward him, ignoring both the protest from my injured feet and the way the movement makes the heat spike. “You don’t want me, Seth. You never did. But you can’t handle the idea of Zane wanting me. So, what is this? Some kind of possessive, territorial posturing? Do you want to keep me on a shelf somewhere, unwanted but not allowed to be with anyone else?”

He moves so fast I barely see it—one moment he’s in the chair, the next his hand is gripping my jaw, forcing me to meet his blazing eyes.

“That’s the second time you’ve accused me of that,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “And I don’t like your attitude.”

My wolf practically whimpers at his touch, at his nearness, responding to the dangerous edge in his voice with eager submission. The heat in my body intensifies at the contact, making my breath catch. But I refuse to back down. Not this time.

“What are you going to do about it?” I sneer, though my voice wavers slightly. “I don’t care about you, Seth. I don’t care about this stupid bond. Whatever you think gives you the right to barge into my life and act like you own me, you’re wrong.”

His grip tightens slightly, not painful but firm. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” The word comes out less steadily than I want, my body betraying me with the racing of my heart. “In fact, now that I can feel this bond again, I think it’s time to end this charade, once and for all.”

I see understanding dawn in his eyes, followed immediately by what I think is panic. He knows what I’m about to say. He knows what words are forming on my tongue.

“I, Selene—”

His mouth captures mine before I can finish, swallowing the rejection before it can take shape. His hand is still gripping my jaw, holding me in place as his lips move against mine with desperate intensity.

I should push him away. I should bite him, fight him, do anything except what I’m actually doing—which is kissing him back with equal desperation. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screams that this is wrong, that he’s manipulating me, that I should hate him for everything he has done.

But, oh god, the bond. It sings between us like a living thing, every point of contact sending electricity racing through my veins. My wolf howls with joy, reveling in Seth’s taste, his scent, the solid warmth of his body. It’s overwhelming in a way that nothing with Zane ever was. The heat in my body blazes hotter, turning into an ache that demands more, demands everything.

Seth growls against my lips as if he can taste my surrender, his hold on my jaw tightening before sliding down to my throat. Not choking—just enough pressure to remind me who’s keeping me here. The dominance in the gesture makes my pulse race faster as my thighs clench together.

I pull at his shirt, nails scraping over hard muscles as I drag the fabric up, desperate for skin. I break the kiss just long enough to whip the shirt over his head, then immediately crush my mouth back onto his.

“Selene…” he murmurs against my lips, his voice all gravel and heat. “Wasn’t it you who said you didn’t want this?”

The taunt sparks fury and desire in equal measure. My hands spread greedily across his bare chest before mapping the ridges of his abs, the heat of him searing my palms. He hisses when my fingers trail lower, following the line of hair disappearing beneath his belt.

“You’re shaking,” he rasps, one hand grabbing my hair to pull my head back so his teeth can scrape my throat. “Trembling like you can’t wait to feel me inside you.”

A broken sound slips from me before I can stop it. My nails claw at his back now, surely leaving red trails over all that muscle. “I don’t want this,” I moan through clenched teeth, even as my body arches for more.

“Liar,” he growls, biting harder at my throat. “Your body’s telling me everything you won’t say.”

His free hand seizes the front of my nightdress and yanks. The seams groan in protest before the fabric rips, falling off my shoulders and baring me to the air. I gasp, clutching at his arms, but he doesn’t let me hide. His gaze drops, hungry, possessive, devouring the rise and fall of my chest.

“Fuck…” he mutters, running his palm roughly over one breast, squeezing until my breath stutters. His large hand engulfs me completely as his lips curl into a dark smirk. “These were made for me.” He squeezes, groaning low in his chest. “Perfect fit.”

The words punch through me, straight into the insecurity I’ve carried for years. My body has always felt like a curse. I’ve hated the way people stare at my breasts, hated how clothes never quite hide them. Too big. Too much. But in his hands—his huge, possessive hands—they feel different. Like they belong there. Like maybe they aren’t too much at all.

The thought terrifies me as much as it thrills me, because he shouldn’t have the power to make me feel anything but hate. And yet, my body reacts to him—arching, shuddering, begging for more.

A whimper tears from me, shame and need colliding. His mouth replaces his hand, lips closing over my nipple, sucking hard enough to send a lightning bolt of pleasure straight between my thighs.

“Every sound you make,” he says against my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue soothes, “proves me right.”

Then he moves over, his mouth trailing across my chest before latching onto the other breast. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, and he groans deep in his throat. “Bet that little lover of yours never touched you like this,” he mutters, his voice taunting. “Never sucked you until you screamed for more.”

Anger flares through the haze of heat. “He did plenty,” I snap, even though we both know it’s not true.

My back arches, and Seth growls, the sound vibrating against my skin before his teeth sink down around my nipple in a quick bite. I cry out, the sting sparking through me only to melt instantly into more heat.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarls, sucking harder, dragging his tongue roughly over the abused peak. “I can’t smell the bastard on you.”

The words hit harder than his bite. Shame claws up my throat, burning hotter than the fire in my chest. He’s right—Zane never crossed the line with me, not really. Aside from a few chaste kisses, there was nothing. No heat, no hands on my body, no fire that could compare to this. Still, the part of me that wants to fight snarls at Seth, my wounded pride refusing to give him the victory.

But my body betrays me. My hips roll against the mattress, seeking friction that isn’t there, desperate to ease the throbbing heat between my thighs. I can feel the wetness spreading, sticky and hot, my ruined panties clinging to me, proof of how badly I want him, no matter what my mouth may say.

A strangled sound tears out of me—half moan, half denial—as his teeth tug at my nipple again, sending another flood of slick heat pulsing down between my legs.

His lips release me with a wet pop, and his mouth trails lower until his breath ghosts hot across my stomach. Every muscle in my body pulls taut, anticipation winding up tightly inside me. His hand slides down the curve of my waist, fingers dragging deliberately over my hip until they find the drenched lace between my thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing his palm against me, feeling the soaked fabric. “You’re dripping. Can you hear that, Selene? Can you feel how wet you are for me?”

I shudder, my legs spreading despite my will, desperate for more friction. The heat pooling there is unbearable, throbbing and insistent, and when his fingers push my panties aside and slide through my slick folds, an obscene squelch fills the air.

A choked cry rips from me, my pelvis jerking against his hand.

“That’s it,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers circle my entrance, coating themselves in my wetness. “So fucking ready. All I did was play with your breasts, and you’re soaked through for me.”

Two fingers push into me, slow but unrelenting, stretching me until I’m gasping, clutching at the sheets. The sound is filthy—wet and messy, every thrust of his hand echoing in the quiet. My walls grip around him, fluttering, and he smiles as he watches me squirm.

“You feel that?” he taunts softly, pumping deeper, curling his fingers just enough to make my vision spark. “That tight little cunt clutching me like it doesn’t want to let go?”

“Stop—” I gasp, but the protest dies in a moan when he thrusts harder, the wet slap of his palm against me making the heat coil even tighter.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he says, his breath rough, eyes locked on mine. His thumb comes up to circle my clit with devastating precision. “You want more. You’ve always wanted this.”

The truth of it shreds me. My thighs tremble, every nerve ending alive, every sound that falls from me proof of how deeply he has undone me. The air is thick with the lewd noises of his fingers plunging into me, sliding in and out with wet insistence, and my body answers each thrust with another desperate clench.

“Listen to that,” he groans, curling his fingers deeper, hitting the spot that makes me cry out loud. “Hear how your pussy begs for me? You can’t fake that, Selene.”

The pressure builds fast, too fast, like a wave threatening to swallow me whole. My nails claw at the sheets, hips bucking wildly against his hand as the slick sounds grow louder, dirtier. My vision blurs, my cries breaking apart into ragged sobs of pleasure.

And then, he stops.

His fingers stay buried inside me, but now they are still, motionless, leaving me writhing around them, desperate for the friction that has just been stolen.

“No—don’t stop,” I gasp, voice wrecked, shame and need crashing together.

Seth smirks, sweat shining across his chest, his breathing just as ragged as mine. His pupils are blown wide, his skin flushed, like he’s fighting the same fever that’s burning me alive.

“You want it that bad?” he whispers, his thumb hovering cruelly over my clit without touching. “Beg for it, Selene. Beg me to make you come.”

The demand sears through me, tearing at my pride, but the aching, throbbing heat between my thighs is unbearable. My walls clutch helplessly around his unmoving fingers, my body trying to drag more from him even as my lips stay pressed shut.

I shake my head, breathing quickly through my nose, refusing to give him that victory.

But the burn inside me only grows sharper, hotter, until my hips are rolling against his hand without my permission, every nerve screaming for release.

With a desperate growl, I grind against his hand, rolling my hips until his fingers sink deeper, until his thumb drags over my clit exactly the way I need. He groans, startled, and the sound fuels me. My body takes what he’s trying to withhold, riding his hand, using him shamelessly.

“Fuck, Selene,” he snarls, his control slipping as he thrusts into me again, matching my pace. The wet slap of his palm against me fills the air, obscene and relentless, every movement pulling me higher, tighter. “So greedy. You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Don’t stop!” I cry out, the words ripped from me, raw and broken. “Make me come, Seth. Now.”

The plea cracks something in him. His thumb bears down on my clit, hard and merciless, his fingers pumping deep and fast, curling exactly where I need them. The pressure detonates inside me, my climax tearing through me like fire.

I scream, arching off the mattress as waves crash over me, wetness spilling around his hand, dripping down my thighs. He doesn’t stop, working me through it, milking every spasm, every desperate cry, until I collapse back against the sheets, trembling and soaked.

He doesn’t waste time. His pants are shoved down in a sharp jerk, his cock springing free—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip. My breath catches at the sight.

It’s too big.

My body clenches around nothing, the ache inside sharpening into hunger. But fear cuts through it. “Seth…you’re—”

“Too big?” he finishes for me, smirking as he strokes himself once in a slow, obscene manner. “You can take it. You were made to take me.”

He nudges the head against my entrance, dragging it through my slick folds until the swollen tip presses right where I’m aching most. The stretch just from that has me gasping, clinging to his arms.

“Wait—” I whisper, panic and need tangling inside me.

His eyes burn into mine, his voice shredded. “I’ll go slow. But I’m not stopping.”

The first push steals my breath. My body stretches around him, fluttering, trying to adjust, but it’s too much, too thick. My hips arch off the mattress in shock.

“Fuck—” he groans, jaw tight, sweat dripping down his temple. “So tight around me. Like your pussy doesn’t know if it wants to fight me or keep me.”

I cry out, half in pleasure, half in pain, nails clawing his shoulders as he drives deeper, inch by inch, filling me until there’s no space left.

“Breathe,” he pants, stroking my cheek even as his cock sinks all the way inside. “Let me in, Selene.”

When he bottoms out, the pressure is overwhelming. Tears sting my eyes, but the sound that emits from my throat is one of pure pleasure.

“Too much—”

“You’re taking me,” he snarls, his forehead pressed to mine. “All of me.”

He holds still, buried to the hilt, letting me feel the sheer size of him. Then he rocks back slowly, rubbing against every trembling nerve, before pushing in again.

The wet sound of his cock moving inside me is beyond filthy or obscene. My walls clutch around him with every slow thrust, wetter, tighter, desperate.

“Please,” I gasp, clinging to him. “Faster—”

His grip tightens on my hip, pinning me down. “No. You’re going to feel every inch.”

His hips circle, grinding deeper, pressing against that tender spot inside me until I sob, my body locking around him.

“You’re soaking me,” he mutters against my throat. “Listen to yourself. You can’t hide it.”

A wet slap fills the air as he drives back in, the sheets beneath us already ruined with how much I’m dripping.

“Fuck—you’re too big—I can’t—”

“You can. You are. You’re made for this cock.”

Tears prick at my eyes, the overwhelming stretch leaving me trembling. My pride holds me back from begging, but my body writhes beneath him, chasing more, my clit throbbing with every grind of his hips.

“Say it,” he rasps, voice guttural, restraint breaking. “Say you want me to fuck you harder.”

“No,” I choke, my defiance sharp even through my sobs.

His control snaps.

With a savage groan, Seth slams into me, the sudden force tearing a scream from my throat. His pace turns frantic, deep, relentless, every thrust brutal. The bed jerks under us, the sound of our bodies colliding sharp and wet, his cock stretching me so wide it borders on unbearable.

“You win,” he snarls against my mouth, though his hips only piston harder. “I can’t hold back—not with you.”

My walls clamp down on him, milking him, soaking him, every thrust dragging me closer to the edge.

And then, instinct takes me.

My wolf surges up, primal and unstoppable, wresting control from me. My mouth finds the curve of his shoulder, and I sink my teeth in, marking him deeply.

Seth roars, his cock slamming deep as it erupts, hot and pulsing, spilling inside me. My scream echoes against his growl, my body convulsing around his cock as he pumps his release into me, filling me until I’m overflowing.

And then, his wolf rises.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t ask. His teeth sink into my neck, piercing me as his wolf claims me back.

The second mark completes our bond. It snaps into place like lightning, electricity racing through us both, binding, sealing. The bond flares, roars, locks us together. Fire tears through every vein, every nerve.

It’s too much. Too strong. My wolf howls in triumph—but my body can’t take it.

I shatter. My vision whites out, my body collapses under him, and the last thing I feel is Seth still pulsing inside me, his teeth still in my skin, the bond blazing hot and unbreakable.

Until the darkness takes me.