Page 14 of Betrayed Arranged Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #7)

I smell the gunpowder before the shot comes.

The scent hits like a punch to the nose—acrid, muzzy, wrong. But by then, it's too late. My feet are still moving, carrying me deeper into the sun-dappled woods, following Stella’s laughter.

“Almost there!” she calls, and I can hear the smile in her voice. She’s been my best friend since we were kids trading lunch at the pack school. I know every inflection of her voice, every subtle shift in her scent.

Except right now, something’s off.

“Stella, wait—” I start to say.

But the rope slips around my throat before I can finish. It tightens like a vice, yanking me backward, and suddenly, I can’t breathe, can’t shift, can’t do anything but stumble, falling to my knees in the soft dirt. I gasp, hands clawing desperately at the cord digging into my skin.

Someone I can’t see wrestles me to the ground. They tighten the garotte until my vision begins to blacken.

“Sorry, Raf.” Stella steps out from behind a tree five feet ahead of me, her face—god, her face. All the warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating I’ve never seen before. A stranger wearing my best friend’s skin. “But they’re paying too well, and you were going to figure me out soon.”

I try to wrench myself free, but the rope only digs deeper. Through the haze of pain, I see her step forward, watching as two more men emerge from the shadows, their faces obscured but their guns drawn, their boots crunching toward me. My stomach drops as I see the barrel of one raise, aimed right at my chest.

Stella crouches down beside me, her face inches from mine. She looks right into my eyes. That’s the worst part—right into my eyes, no shame. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.

“You know what the funny thing is?” she says, voice low. “I actually liked you. But everybody’s got their price, right?”

The gunshot rings out. A hot burst of pain explodes through the inside of my shoulder, the force sending me to the ground. A sheer two inches above my heart, the doctors will tell me later. I survived by sheer, dumb luck. If they’d checked the entry wound, they would surely have shot again, and that time, they wouldn’t have missed.

The last thing I see before my vision fades is Stella standing over me, the afternoon sunlight catching her hair—the same auburn I used to braid for her during summer sleepovers, now looking more like fresh blood than copper.

God knows why the memory has come to me now of all times. It releases me slowly, leaving me shaking in the safehouse's kitchen. Outside, snow falls in thick curtains, muffling the world. The evening has draped heavy shadows across the room, broken only by the wan glow of the overhead light.

All day, I've been haunted by echoes—past bleeding into present until my skin feels tight on my body. All I want to do is transform, run, sprint far away from this place. Every time I close my eyes, I see Thalia's face in the candlelight, vulnerable and raw before she left me alone. Every time I open them, I remember Stella's mask dropping away. They combine to twist in my gut like a knife.

Footsteps on the stairs draw me from my thoughts—Thalia, trying to slip past the kitchen without acknowledging me. Her scent reaches me first, that intoxicating spell driving me slowly mad for weeks.

"Hey," I say, softer than I mean to. "Can we talk?"

She freezes in the doorway, her silhouette tense against the gathering dark. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please." The word costs me something to say. "I'm trying to understand."

"Understand what?"

Her voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the slight tremor underneath.

"Why you ran last night. Why you're running now." I turn to face her fully, letting her see my confusion, my frustration. "Help me make sense of this. We can’t keep doing this. And you know it.”

"There's nothing to make sense of." Thalia wraps her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that makes her look younger somehow. "It was a mistake. That's all."

"Bullshit." The word comes out sharper than intended, fueled by a day's worth of churning emotions. "You feel this too. Whatever's happening between us—"

"Stop." She takes a step back. "Just stop."

"Why? Because it's easier than being honest?"

Something flashes in her eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. "You want honesty? Fine. I think you're so scared of being betrayed again that you're seeing threats everywhere. Even where they don't exist."

The accusation stings. "And I think you're hiding something that's eating you alive."

"You don't know anything about me." Thalia’s voice rises slightly, control slipping.

"Whose fault is that?" I move closer, frustration building. "Every time I think I'm getting close to the real you, you throw up another wall. Another excuse."

"I never asked you to get close!" But there's something raw in her tone now, something almost desperate.

"No, you just took a bullet for me. Fought beside me. Kissed me like you meant it—"

"Don't." Her eyes flash dangerously.

"Why not? Afraid someone might actually see past your perfect act?"

"My act?" She laughs, the sound brittle as thin ice. "That's rich, coming from you. The noble warrior is so trapped in his past that he can't see what's right in front of him."

The words hit harder than they should, breaking something loose inside me. "At least I'm honest about who I am."

"Are you?" She steps closer, all controlled fury and barely-leashed power. "Because from where I'm standing, you’re picking a fight to spare yourself from admitting you might have been wrong about me."

Her words only make me angrier. "Wrong about you? “

Thalia lets loose another harsh laugh. "Tell me, Rafael, what exactly have I done to earn this suspicion you’ve pinned me with since the start? Besides save your life?"

I move closer, unable to stop myself. "You're here on a job that doesn't make sense. Your background's impossibly obscure. You disappear at odd hours. You look at this pack like—" I break off, searching for the words.

"Like what?"

"Like you're memorizing everything you might lose—"

She flinches as if I've struck her. For a moment, raw pain flashes across her face before she masks it.

"You don't get to do this," she says, voice low and trembling. "You don't get to act like you know me, like you understand—"

"Then help me understand!" The words burst out of me. "Because I'm losing my mind here, Thalia. I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting to trust you. And every time I try, you run."

"Maybe I'm running for a reason!" She's almost shouting now, color high in her cheeks. "Did that ever occur to you? That maybe I'm trying to protect—" She cuts herself off, pressing her lips together.

"Protect what?" I step closer, backing her toward the wall. "Finish that sentence."

"Back off, Rafael." But she doesn't move away.

"No." I plant my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. This close, I can see the slight tremor in her lips, smell the storm of emotions rolling off her. "I'm done backing off."

"What do you want from me?" she snaps.

"The truth. For once."

Her laugh is soft and broken. "You don’t understand anything, Rafael.”

"Try me."

"Why?" Her eyes flash up to mine, suddenly fierce. "So you can justify your paranoia? So you can prove to yourself you were right not to trust me?"

"So I can stop fighting this!" The words tear from my throat. "So I can stop wanting you so badly it's driving me insane!"

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or hunger. Her pulse jumps in her throat.

"You think I want this?" she breathes. "You think I wanted to come here and find—"

She breaks off, swallowing hard.

"Find what?"

"You."

The word falls between us like a stone in still water. I can’t speak for a moment. My lips feel numb—my whole body feels numb, like a live wire strung with an ineffable current.

When speech returns to me, all I can say is her name. “Thalia—”

But Thalia just shakes her head rapidly, tears gathering in her eyes. "It doesn't matter. None of this matters."

"The hell it doesn't." I lean closer until our breaths mingle.

"Stop."

"Tell me last night meant nothing."

"I said stop!"

Her shout hangs in the air between us, electric with possibility. Her eyes drop to my mouth, then back up. I can feel her trembling, though whether from anger or something else, I'm not sure.

"You're impossible," she whispers.

"And you're a liar." I brush my thumb across her cheek, catching a tear she probably didn't mean to let fall.

"You should run as far from me as you can,” Thalia says, but her voice breaks on the last word. Her hands come up to press against my chest—not pushing me away, just resting there, feeling my heartbeat race beneath her palms. “I’ll destroy you.”

Her eyes meet mine, dark and desperate in the shadowed kitchen. I can tell she means it.

Outside, snow falls harder, the wind picking up to howl against the windows. The storm matches the intensity crackling between us, wild, dangerous, and impossible to control.

I lean close. Something breaks in her expression. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and I feel the moment her resistance shatters.

This time, she kisses me first.

It's nothing like our previous kiss—nothing like the gentle exploration of last night. This is pure surrender, walls crumbling, a release of something torrentially powerful. Her mouth opens under mine, hot and demanding. I pour everything I can't say into the kiss. All my confusion, my want, my desperate need to understand her.

She responds with equal fervor, one hand sliding into my hair while the other fists in my shirt. I press her harder against the wall, body plastered against hers, swallowing her gasp as my hands find her waist. Everything narrows to points of contact—her fingers scraping my scalp, my teeth grazing her lower lip, the heat of her body against mine.

"Rafael," she breathes against my mouth, and my name has never sounded like that before.

I trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race under my lips. She arches into me, head falling back against the wall, and the sound she makes shoots straight through me like lightning.

"Tell me to stop," I murmur against her skin.

Her fingers tighten in my hair. She doesn’t.

So I don't. I kiss her like I'm trying to unlock her. She meets me strength for strength, giving as good as she gets, until I can't tell where my desperation ends and hers begins.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Snow swirls outside the windows, casting strange patterns across her face. In the dim light, her eyes are bottomless, full of things I can't name.

"This is going to end badly," Thalia whispers, but she's still clutching my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear.

When she pulls me back in, I forget the risk, the terror, the fury, the lies. All of it.

We stagger in the direction of my bedroom through the shadowed space, fumbling with one another’s clothes—we keep having to stop as I back her against the wall, kissing down her throat, one hand at her breast. Thalia's fingers tangle in my hair as I press her harder against the wall, my mouth hot on her neck. I can feel her pulse racing beneath my lips, her skin flushed and warm. My hands roam possessively over her body, memorizing every curve and plane. She gasps as I nip at her collarbone, her throat, her back arching to press closer.

In the end, we don't make it to the bedroom. The need is too urgent, too all-consuming. I hoist her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the kitchen counter. Glasses rattle as I set her down, shoved across the granite surface. One tumbles to the floor with a crash, but neither of us pays it any mind.

My hands shake as I fumble with the buttons of her blouse. Impatient, I end up simply tearing it open, buttons scattering across the floor.

Thalia laughs against my mouth, her fingers working at mine with equal fervor. She tugs my shirt off, her hands roaming hungrily over my chest and shoulders. I groan into her mouth as she scrapes her nails down my back, setting fire to every nerve ending in my body.

"Rafael," she moans against my lips, and I can't take it anymore. I need to taste her.

I push her back, not breaking our kiss, as I shove aside a stack of books, a laptop, another errant tumbler. She wraps her legs around me again, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us.

Thalia’s skin is soft and warm under my hands as I slide them up her sides. She shivers as I reach for the clasp of her bra but then melts into me as I lower it down her arms.

I break away from our kiss to trail a line of hot kisses down her chest. She arches into me as I take one nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking until she's whimpering above me.

"Rafael," she gasps again, but it's a plea this time. My name on her tongue sends electricity through me.

I continue kissing down her stomach, learning every inch of her skin like it's a map leading me to some unknown treasure. And then finally, finally...I'm between her thighs.

She moans loudly when I press my lips to the apex of her sex, inhaling the scent of her arousal. My name falls from her lips again and again as I trail kisses along the inside of one thigh before moving back up to where she needs me most.

She's wet and ready for me when I finally use my tongue, and she arches off the counter as I taste her for the first time. I explore her, savoring her taste as she writhes beneath me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me closer as I lick and suck. I grip her thighs tightly, holding her in place as she bucks against my mouth. Her breathless cries echo through the kitchen, spurring me on.

When I slide two fingers inside her, she nearly comes off the counter. I curl them, finding that spot that makes her whole body tremble. Her walls clench around my fingers as I pump them in and out, my tongue still working her most sensitive areas.

I can feel her getting close, her thighs shaking on either side of my head. But I'm not ready for this to end. I want to draw out her pleasure, to make her fall apart completely. I slow my movements, easing back just enough to keep her on the edge.

She whimpers as I slow my pace, her hips rocking desperately against my mouth.

"Please," she gasps. "Rafael, please..."

I rise up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She moans as she tastes herself on my tongue.

"Turn around," I growl against her mouth.

Thalia’s eyes flash with heat as she obeys. She slides off the counter and bracing her hands on the edge. I press myself against her back, one hand tangling in her hair as I nip at her shoulder. My other hand slides around to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers.

"Is this what you want?" I murmur in her ear, grinding my hips against her.

She pushes back against me with a breathy moan. "Yes," she pants. "God, yes."

I fumble with my belt, shoving my pants down, then grip Thalia's hips firmly, a punishing hold. I enter her in one swift motion, both of us groaning at the sensation. She's hot and tight around me, her inner walls clenching as I fill her completely. I pause for a moment, savoring the feeling of being joined with her at last.

Then, I begin to move, setting a brutal pace. My fingers dig into her hips as I thrust into her, hard and deep. Thalia braces herself against the counter, meeting me thrust for thrust. The kitchen fills with the sounds of our ragged breathing and skin slapping against skin.

I slide one hand up her back, tangling my fingers in her hair. I tug her head back, exposing the graceful line of her throat. My lips find her pulse point, sucking and biting as I drive into her relentlessly. She cries out, a breathy moan of my name that sends a shiver down my spine. Unable to hold back, I increase my pace, pounding into her with abandon. The counter trembles beneath us.

"Rafael," Thalia gasps, her voice high and slurred with pleasure. "I'm close, I'm so close..."

I slip my free hand around her waist, fingers finding her most sensitive spot. I rub tight circles as I continue thrusting, feeling her body start to tremble. Her inner walls flutter around me as she nears her peak.

"Let go," I growl in her ear. "Come for me, Thalia."

With a cry, she shatters. Her body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over her. I hold her tightly as she rides out her orgasm, my own release building rapidly. The feeling of her squeezing around me is exquisite torture.

A few more hard thrusts, and I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep inside her as I come with a guttural groan. My vision goes white for a moment, pleasure coursing through every nerve ending.

I collapse against Thalia's back, both of us breathing heavily.

For several long moments, we stay like that, our bodies still joined, sweat cooling on our skin. My forehead rests against her shoulder blade as I try to catch my breath. Thalia's fingers find mine where they're still gripping her hip and linger there.

Eventually, I straightened up, gently pulling out of her.

Thalia turns to face me, her eyes dark and unreadable in the dim kitchen. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, skin glowing with perspiration, eyes bright and still slightly watery with the culmination of her pleasure. A strand of hair is stuck to her cheek with sweat. I brush it back tenderly, cupping her face in my hand.

"Thalia," I murmur. Her name feels different on my tongue now. I can still taste her.

She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, still breathing hard.

"We should talk," I say, even as my body yearns to pull her close again.

Thalia nods, but even so, her fingers trail down my chest, igniting sparks beneath my skin.

"We should," she agrees, her voice husky. "But not yet."

When she leads me to the bedroom, I don’t protest.