Page 76

Finally, he spoke again. “It’s just that we planned this big group of Alphas to come to Ironside at the same time, to create enough popularity to influence the system.

So many years of planning went into that, and it wasn’t just about the plan either.

It was about hiding Moses and Theo’s ferality.

Mikel’s trauma. Elijah and Gabriel’s trauma.

Oscar’s need to save his sister. Kalen’s promise to his grandmother.

The threat emerging in Cian’s settlement of officials wanting to traffic rare Alphas.

Kilian and I were the only people who were just …

along for the ride. Doing it for the others.

I mean, we believed in the overall plan and what we could achieve, but we didn’t have this huge, desperate driving force behind us. ”

“Until the bond,” Isobel said, when he fell silent again.

“Until the bond,” he agreed. “And then, suddenly, I was fighting for my fucking sanity and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I’m sorry about that, you know that, right?”

“Sorry about what?”

“The closet.”

Her breath caught mid-inhale, and she worked to release it with deliberate calm. “Don’t be.” She cleared her throat, flushing at the wobble in her voice. “It happens.”

“It does?” He didn’t look at her, still staring down the hill.

“No,” she lied. He didn’t need to know that she had Niko’d Moses.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I take it back. I’m not sorry. ”

“You were never sorry.”

He finally looked at her again, glancing at her lips. “Hm.”

“So the bond was damaged, and then?” she prompted, knowing there was more he was trying to say.

He dipped his chin slightly. “And then there was another crisis, and another crisis, and another. The whole time, I was just trying to hold onto who I was at the most basic level. And you and I were sliding backwards while you moved forward with everyone else. I was just fighting constantly. I’m trying to say I don’t know what we are, when this is over. ”

“You and me?”

He let out a short, dry laugh. “No, Carter. You’re fucking mine , and I’m yours. That’s well established. Damaged or not.”

“Us, as a group, then?” She guessed again, sucking in a small breath at the burst of pleasure blooming into her body.

He lifted his nose and leaned an inch closer to her, scenting her pleasure rather than sensing it through the bond. “I guess.” One broad shoulder rose and fell. “We’re Eleven, right? We sing and dance. Do you know I don’t even like singing?”

She stared at him. “What?”

“I love dancing,” he allowed. “It’s one of the only things I love. ”

“Good,” she breathed out, “because you’re an amazing dancer.”

“But I hate singing.”

She finally understood what he was trying to say, and it made her heart hurt.

He had been so damaged that he had actually relied on the plan, on their forced roles, to know what his purpose was.

If they were no longer fighting to win or struggling to survive …

then what , exactly, was Niko’s purpose?

“I’d like to choreograph,” she said, the realisation hitting her so suddenly, where it had always evaded her before.

Maybe because Niko was making it all seem suddenly real that they would achieve their goal and be out there in the world at some point, simply living instead of fighting.

Unbound . “I don’t want to be famous. Or on camera.

I hate it. Some people are made for it, like my dad, or Theo.

I always loved singing, but it doesn’t …

” She chewed on her lip, trying to find the right words. “Fill me up,” she settled on.

“What fills you up?”

“Being with you guys,” she admitted, voice quiet. “Just … doing anything with the group. Existing together. It always energises me and makes me calm at the same time.”

“Even Moses?”

A giggle exploded out of her. “I like fighting with Moses. ”

His teeth flashed before he smothered the smile. “What else fills you up?”

“Dancing—but not as a performance. I like creating the dance most of all.”

He nodded slowly, and some of the tension began to bleed out of his expression. “That’s what I like best too.” He eyed her carefully. “I change my mind about the other thing—me and you.”

She pushed out her bottom lip in mock offence. “You can’t take it back now.”

“I said it was well established, but I don’t think it is.” He was staring at her lips again. “I decided recently that I can’t wait anymore, but I forgot to tell you.”

She gulped nervously, her fingertips tingling, her eyes widening in surprise. “This wall is not steady enough to be hitting me with a sentence like that out of nowhere. How recently?”

“When you slept with Elijah. I’m a jealous bastard. I was already hanging on by a thread, knowing I’m a mess and you deserve better, but I’m not a fucking saint.”

“‘Slept with him’ is a stretch,” she squeaked. “He waterboarded me.”

Niko tore his eyes from hers, but there was no hiding from the bond. She could feel his sudden spike of dark emotion.

“This isn’t about me being able to handle you, is it?” she whispered, examining the feeling carefully.

His laugh was hollow. “Fucking bond. ”

“I thought … when we healed the bond, it cleared up the Alpha aggression over me being with the others?”

He shook his head, still avoiding her eyes.

“More so for them than me. It still settled and calmed me, but I can’t beat down the ugly possessiveness entirely.

” His grip on the edge of the wall tightened.

“You should let me know if you don’t want to head in that direction, because I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore … not if I’m the only one.”

“Niko—”

“You were mine first.” He expelled the words on a deep, low breath, twisting around and jumping off the wall, moving behind her, his breath stirring the back of her head. “I haven’t been able to breathe since I left you in that closet.”

Her pulse stuttered. The air between them was suddenly searing.

He picked her up, turned her, and set her on the wall again, facing him this time. She was so shocked that she simply allowed her body to be manoeuvred, as if she were a doll to be positioned and propped up just how he liked.

She still hadn’t answered him. Her head was spinning in an attempt to grip all the things he had said, and she was struggling to form a coherent response.

She wanted him—of course she wanted him—but she also wanted to handle him carefully.

She knew how badly it affected him that he had taken her virginity in a rage like that, though she had been a very willing participant.

She didn’t want an even wider rift between them if he regretted the second time.

“Why don’t you tell me to stop?” he suggested darkly, leaning closer until he pressed against her knees, his hands on the sides of her thighs, his mouth hovering over hers.

“Tell me you don’t want me pushing your other mates out of the way whenever I want my hands on you.

Tell me you don’t want me crawling over you at night, waking you up by wrapping your thighs around my head.

Tell me. I fucking dare you.” At first, he almost seemed to want her to say it.

To tell him to stop. But by the end, he was growling, and she could hear the dare in his tone.

Don’t you dare tell me to stop . His words whispered into her head, and when he blinked slowly, she realised it had been an accident.

She didn’t say anything, only parted her lips in shock, pupils dilating and breath catching. When he still waited, she scrambled for a response, blurting the first thing that came to her mind.

“What if I do want that?”

He edged her legs open, pressing slightly between them, his fingers fluttering against her neck.

His control was so thin, and she knew he was desperate to release it, so she set a shaky finger against the top of his jeans, drifting a light touch down, across where his erection pushed against the denim.

Niko lunged, a feral sound torn from his throat as he pushed her legs wide, enough to accommodate his hips slotting right up against hers. Her thighs ached with the stretch he had caused. He wrapped her messy braid in his fist, tugging her head back and stealing her lips.

The kiss was instantly desperate, passion exploding between them in a rush that left her dizzy and moaning.

She shifted her hips, seeking friction, and managed to press herself against his cock.

They both expelled sharp breaths at the contact, their kiss breaking for a moment before he slammed his mouth back to hers, kissing her with a bruising urgency, rough sounds sparking from his chest as she rubbed and rubbed, her shaking thighs climbing his hips, clinging to him.

His free hand caught her hip, increasing the pressure, the friction, as he sucked her tongue into his mouth.

“Fuck.” His breath hitched, the noise low and rough. “You’re burning me through all these layers. I need to get inside again.”

“I deserve it after waiting so long.” Her words came out thin, laced with desperation, hands tangling into his hair, accidentally knocking out the tie so that the dark, chin-length strands spilled through her fingers.

“What do you deserve?” he whispered against her mouth, the words a dark taunt .

“To be touched. Fucked. To have all canned chicken cans rounded up and burned.”

His laugh was low and quiet, his teeth razing her lower lip. “Let’s talk about the last one later.”

“Only if you do the first two now.”