Page 12

Adrian

Last night, when we pulled up to the hotel, she didn’t even look at me. Her fingers fumbled with the door handle, and before I could say anything, she mumbled something about needing space and disappeared into the lobby, the glass doors whispering shut behind her.

I let her go. Forced myself to let her go. To give her the distance she so clearly needed. But it didn’t matter. Not when the damn bond—this broken, fragile, half-formed thing I’d recklessly forced on her—still pulsed between us, an uninvited whisper of her pain curling through my chest like smoke.

She didn’t sleep. Not at first. I felt her twisting in her bed, the sharp, jagged ache of her hurt bleeding through the bond like poison. I didn’t know if she was sobbing or screaming into a pillow, but the ache was there—raw and desperate, clawing at me, refusing to let me rest.

I wanted to take it away. Would’ve given anything to steal that pain, to wrap her in my arms and shield her from everything—the world, her mother’s venomous words, the twisted expectations of this perfect, polished pack. But she needed space.

So I stayed in my own room, pacing the floor, my fists clenched, my chest tight with a restless, helpless fury. Midnight dragged on, the minutes crawling by, and then finally—finally—I felt the faint, quiet lull of her exhaustion, the way her twisted, tangled emotions softened, stilled. Sleep claimed her around one in the morning, and only then did the tension in my chest loosen, the cold, bitter knot fading just enough for me to breathe.

I hated this. Hated feeling her like this—spying on her through the bond I had no right to force. But I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t close it off. I needed to know she was okay.

And as the first pale ray of morning sun pierced the gray horizon, I was already in the hotel lobby, leaning against the sleek, polished wall, my arms crossed, my jaw tight.

The glass doors whispered open, and there she was. Black jeans, a faded Metallica shirt, her black hair pulled back into a tight, severe ponytail. The dark circles beneath her eyes were faint, but I saw them. I saw the tightness in her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched around the strap of her bag.

“You’re late,” I told her, glancing at my watch, letting the faintest hint of amusement slip into my voice.

She shot me a glare, the fierce, wild light in her green eyes already flickering to life. “It’s six a.m. There is no such thing as ‘ late ’ at this ungodly hour.”

“Six a.m. means six a.m.,” I replied, straightening, already moving toward the door. “Time waits for no one, not even chaos.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, but there was a faint, begrudging smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Good. That’s what I needed. I could work with that.

“Coffee?” I asked, pushing open the glass door and letting the crisp, early morning air wash over us.

“Obviously. If you think I’m driving anywhere without caffeine, you’re insane.”

“I’m driving.”

“Even better.” She sighed, brushing past me, her head held high, but I saw the way her shoulders stayed just a little too stiff, the way her fingers flexed against the strap of her bag—like she was holding herself together with sheer willpower.

And I couldn’t help the faint, dark smile that tugged at my lips. Because despite everything—despite the pain, the anger, the twisted ache still lingering in the bond—she was here. Ready to fight the world again. Ready to burn it all down if she had to.

My sweet chaos.

And gods help me, I was never letting her go.

The sun was already a fierce, blinding glare overhead by the time we hit the open road. The heat shimmered off the asphalt in hazy, twisted waves, turning the rolling fields on either side into a sweltering, golden blur. The pickup’s air conditioning struggled against the August heat, blowing a weak, lukewarm breeze that barely kept the cabin tolerable.

And then there was Olivia—fingers drumming against the dashboard, her head bobbing to the beat of whatever ridiculous playlist she’d just connected to my stereo.

“ Whooaaa, we’re halfway there! Whoa-oh! Livin’ on a prayer! ” she sang, loud and shameless, her voice a wild, unrestrained echo that bounced around the cab. She slapped my arm for emphasis, grinning like a madwoman.

I shot her a dark, warning look. “Is this a concert, or are you trying to scare away the wildlife?”

“Oh, don’t be such a grump.” She leaned over, cranking the volume up even louder. “This is classic. Pure, unfiltered, sing-your-heart-out rock.”

“I thought you had taste.” I muttered, gripping the wheel a little tighter, but she just laughed, that wild, bright sound that cut through the sweltering heat.

“You wouldn’t know taste if it bit you,” she shot back, leaning back in her seat, her fingers already scrolling through her playlist. “Fine. If that’s too ‘ primitive ’ for your Alpha sensibilities, how about something more… on the nose?”

The next song kicked in with a pulsing, upbeat rhythm, and the unmistakable synth beat of Duran Duran’s “ Hungry Like the Wolf” filled the cab.

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” I asked, but I couldn’t stop the faint, crooked smile tugging at my lips.

“Funny? No. Hilarious? Absolutely.” She grinned, leaning back in her seat, her voice rising again as she sang along. “ I'm on the hunt, I'm after you— ”

“I think we both know who’s doing the hunting here.” I shot her a sideways glance, letting the faint, lazy smile linger.

“Oh? You think you’re the big, bad wolf?” She arched an eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other, the faint, teasing smile never leaving her lips. “Pretty sure I remember you chasing me down. Or have you forgotten who kissed who first?”

“I remember you falling apart in my arms.” My voice dropped, a low, rough murmur. “Clawing at my back, moaning my name—”

Her cheeks flushed, but her smile didn’t falter. “Confidence is cute, but I’m still not sure you’re as tough as you think you are, Alpha.”

I leaned back, letting one hand rest casually on the wheel, the other slipping from the gearshift to trail along her knee, tracing slow, lazy circles against the soft denim of her jeans. “I think I’m tough enough to have you screaming for me again.”

“Oh, please.” She brushed my hand away with a laugh, her gaze flicking back to the road. “I bet you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Keep pushing me, my sweet chaos ,” I murmured, letting my fingers trail just a little higher, just enough for her to feel the faint, teasing pressure. “And I’ll show you exactly how sharp my bite can be.”

She shivered, her smile faltering for just a heartbeat, and I felt a warm, smug satisfaction coil in my chest. But she recovered quickly, snatching my hand and shoving it back toward the gearshift.

“Eyes on the road, Alpha. I’d hate for you to get us killed before I have a chance to prove you wrong.”

I laughed, a low, warm rumble that seemed to fill the sweltering heat of the cab. “Oh, I’m not getting us killed. I’m far too eager to see how far I can push you.”

“Big words.” She reached for the volume again, the beat of the song still pulsing around us. “Let’s see if you’re as good with your driving as you are with your mouth.”

“Careful, Olivia.” I leaned back, a slow, lazy smile curling at my lips. “I haven’t even started using my mouth yet.”

Her breath hitched just slightly, the faintest flush creeping up her cheeks, but she covered it with another laugh, her gaze fixed on the endless stretch of sunlit road ahead.

I let the music fill the silence, the rhythmic beat thumping in the background as the fields blurred past, the sun beating down, the wind sweeping through the open window.

But my gaze kept flicking to her—the wild, defiant light in her green eyes, the faint, annoyed curl of her lips as she tried to fight the smile tugging at them. And gods, I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of this—enough of her, wild and reckless, burning through the heat like a wildfire.

The highway was a twisted, shimmering ribbon of endless asphalt, the heat dancing off the road in hazy waves. And then it wasn’t. It was a sea of brake lights. A long, agonizing line of red that stretched to the horizon.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel, my fingers tapping in a slow, frustrated rhythm.

“Relax, Wolfzilla ,” Olivia sighed, leaning back in her seat, her fingers already dancing over her phone. “It’s just traffic.”

“Traffic caused by what?” I growled, craning my neck to see, but the pickup in front of us was a massive, rusted beast that blocked any hope of a view.

“Accident, probably,” she hummed, her gaze never leaving her screen. “Or maybe the gods just decided to punish you for being insufferable.”

I shot her a dark look, and she only grinned, tapping out something on her phone.

Forty-five minutes. Forty-five agonizing, air-conditioning-struggling minutes later, the line of cars finally crawled forward, the twisted wreck of two sedans smashed against the guardrail a grim reminder of our wasted time.

By the time we pulled into the flower farm, the sun was already slipping toward the horizon, a warm, golden glow washing over the sprawling fields of wild blooms and neat rows of carefully cultivated flowers.

“Please tell me we’re not too late,” I muttered, slamming the door shut and striding toward the small, rustic reception building.

The woman behind the desk looked up, a warm, polite smile on her face. “Evening. How can I help you folks?”

“We’re here to pick up an order,” I said, pulling out my phone and showing her the text from Sophie. “Lilies, lavender, and white roses.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman’s smile faltered just slightly. “We have your flowers, but the arrangements won’t be ready until tomorrow morning.”

“What?” I felt the tension in my shoulders spike again, my jaw tightening. “We were supposed to have them today.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, the apology in her voice sounding genuine but entirely useless. “We’re short-staffed, and the accident on the highway delayed a few of our workers.”

“Great.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to force back the frustration, but Olivia was already leaning on the counter, flashing that wild, easy grin of hers.

“Well, that’s a shame. I guess we’ll have to spend the night here. Let me guess— you only have one room with one bed left, right?”

The woman blinked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Oh, no, actually, we have plenty of rooms available.”

Olivia’s smile didn’t falter. She leaned a little closer, slipped a crisp twenty-dollar bill across the counter, and whispered, “For tomorrow , right now you only have one free.”

The woman glanced down at the bill, then back up at Olivia, and a slow, conspiratorial smile crept across her lips. “Actually… it seems we do have just one room left.”

“Shocking.” Olivia winked, snatching the keycard the woman handed her.

I shook my head, a faint, exasperated laugh slipping from me as we walked out of the reception building, the warm, golden light spilling over the fields, the soft, lazy buzz of cicadas filling the air.

“So that’s your trick?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Bribery?”

“Please, that was persuasion.” She tossed the keycard in the air, catching it with a practiced flick of her fingers. “Bribery would’ve cost more.”

“Clever.” I smirked, falling into step beside her as we made our way to the quaint little cottage nestled at the edge of the field.

Inside, the room was cozy—warm wooden walls, a soft, thick rug, a large, inviting bed covered in a quilt that looked older than I was.

I hesitated at the door, then cleared my throat. “If you need more space, I can sleep on the floor.”

She turned, one dark eyebrow arching, her gaze sharp, almost dangerous. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Excuse me?”

“We did not play cat and mouse in that sweltering car for hours just so you could pretend to be a gentleman now.” She stepped closer, the keycard slipping from her fingers, falling to the bed with a soft thud. “So unless you’re afraid of being eaten alive, I suggest you drop the whole ‘honorable Alpha ’ act.”

My lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, the tension that had twisted in my chest since we left the hotel finally easing, replaced by a slow, simmering heat.

“Oh, I’m not afraid.” I took a step toward her, letting the door click shut behind me, the warm, golden light of the setting sun spilling through the window, casting soft shadows across her sharp, defiant features.

“Good.” Her hands slipped to the hem of her Metallica shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion, leaving her in nothing but that fierce, wild smile and the soft, black lace of her bra. “Because I’m done playing.”

I crossed the distance between us, my fingers tangling in her hair, my mouth crashing against hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

And this time, there was no traffic, no delays, nothing in the world that could stop me.

Her lips were warm, soft, and wild against mine, her hands already slipping beneath my shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle along my back. The heat between us was instant, fierce, but before I could pull her closer, before I could lose myself in the soft, electric warmth of her body, she pulled back, her breath warm against my lips.

“Shower first,” she whispered, her voice a soft, teasing command. “I’m not getting tangled up with you all sweaty and dusty.”

“Is that right?” I murmured, a slow, wicked smile tugging at my lips. “Afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself?”

“Oh, you definitely won’t.” Her laugh was a soft, wicked hum, and she slipped out of my grasp, already unbuttoning her jeans, letting them slide to the floor, her bare legs catching the last golden light spilling through the window.

Gods, she was perfect—wild dark hair, that fierce, defiant fire in her eyes, the soft curve of her hips, the delicate, teasing lace of her bra and panties. And she knew it, too. Knew the way my gaze followed her, the way my pulse hammered against my chest.

She turned, sauntering into the small, rustic bathroom, the sound of the shower starting, the soft, rising mist curling around her like a cloud.

I stood there for half a heartbeat, fighting the fierce, hungry ache twisting in my chest, the pulsing heat already pooling low in my body. But she knew exactly what she was doing. Knew the game we were playing. And I had no intention of losing.

By the time I stepped into the bathroom, the steam had already filled the small space, the soft, warm mist clinging to the wooden walls, swirling around her as she stood beneath the spray, her head tilted back, her dark hair slicked against her shoulders, the water tracing slow, glistening trails down the curve of her back, her waist, her thighs.

I didn’t bother to be subtle. I stripped off my clothes, letting them fall in a forgotten heap, and stepped in behind her, the warm water crashing over my shoulders, my arms slipping around her waist, pulling her back against my chest.

“All I can think about is how perfectly you fit in my arms.” I said.

Her breath caught, her body pressing back against me, the soft, slick warmth of her skin a perfect, torturous contrast to the heat of the water.

“Adrian,” she whispered, her voice a mix of warning and need, her hands slipping over mine, pressing them against her stomach.

But I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t stop. Not when the soft, sweet curve of her body fit so perfectly against me, not when the heat of her back, her hips, her thighs pressed against the aching hardness of my cock.

I leaned in, my mouth tracing a slow, burning path along the side of her neck, the steam curling around us, the water tracing slow, lazy trails over her shoulders, her chest.

My hands slid down, tracing the soft curve of her waist, her hips, my fingers slipping between her thighs, feeling the sweet, slick heat of her, already so wet, so perfect.

She shuddered, her head falling back against my shoulder, her breath coming faster, her fingers clawing at my arms, her voice breaking in a soft, desperate moan.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, her breath coming in soft, desperate gasps, her hips pressing against me, and I felt the hard, aching pulse of my cock pressing against her thigh. Her lips brushed against my ear, her voice a soft, breathless whisper, each word a spark that sent a wild, electric rush through me.

“I want you to take me, Adrian,” she whispered, her voice a low, sinful murmur that wrapped around me like a spell. “I want you to pin me against this wall… make me scream your name. I want to feel you everywhere, your hands, your mouth… I want you to mark me, bite me again… make me yours.”

Gods . A fierce, desperate heat twisted in my chest, raw and wild, pulsing through me like fire. Her fingers traced slow, teasing trails down my chest, her mouth brushing against the side of my neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“I want you to take me so hard I forget my own name,” she whispered, her voice a sweet, wicked plea. “I want to feel you lose control…”

A sharp, feral growl slipped from my throat, my fingers tightening on her hips, pressing her harder against the cool, slick tiles.

I caught her wrists, pinning them above her head against the slick, tiled wall, my mouth crashing against hers, fierce and hungry. My knee nudged her thighs apart, and I pressed against her, the hard, aching length of me sliding against her slick, heated core, and she gasped, her body arching against me.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I growled, my mouth tracing a slow, burning path along her jaw, down the side of her neck, my teeth grazing the delicate curve. “Because I don’t think I can stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Gods, this woman. I could feel her, that wild, desperate hunger crashing through the bond, her pulse racing, her body aching for me, the soft, sweet heat of her already slick, ready, begging.

Her words were a spark in a dry forest, a fierce, blinding ignition that shattered the last fragile thread of my control. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I acted.

My hands gripped her hips, and I pulled her out of the shower, water streaming from her body, her wet, slick skin a perfect, maddening temptation. She barely had time to gasp before I spun her around, my mouth crashing against hers, fierce and hungry, my hands slipping beneath her thighs, lifting her.

We stumbled into the bedroom, the cool air crashing against our damp bodies, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, her wild, desperate laughter swallowed by my kiss. I tossed her onto the bed, her wet, glistening form sprawled across the crumpled sheets, her dark hair a wild halo, her eyes blazing with that fierce, wicked hunger.

But I didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath. I grabbed her hips, turned her onto her stomach, my hand pressing against the small of her back, pushing her down, the soft curve of her ass arching up, perfect, exposed, trembling.

“Adrian—”

“I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for,” I growled, leaning over her, my mouth tracing a slow, burning path along her shoulder, my cock pressing against her slick, soaked heat. “But you’re going to beg for it. You’re going to scream for it.”

Her breath caught, a soft, desperate moan spilling from her lips, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her body shuddering beneath me.

“Please—”

“Please, what?” My hand slid down, tracing slow, teasing circles against the soft, slick heat of pussy, feeling her shudder, feeling the wild, desperate pulse of her through the bond. Gods, I could feel her —her twisted, frantic need, her wicked, filthy thoughts. The things she wanted but didn’t dare say.

“I want you to—”

“Say it, Olivia.” My voice was a low, rough snarl, my teeth grazing the curve of her ear. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you need me.”

Her breath came faster, her hips pressing back against me, her thighs trembling, and through the bond, I felt it—the twisted, wild edge of her hunger, the sharp, desperate ache twisting in her chest.

“I need it. I need you to—fuck, Adrian, please—”

“That’s not begging.” I thrust against her, the head of my cock teasing her, pressing against her slick, soaked entrance, but not pushing in. “Beg.”

“Please, please, gods—” Her voice was a wild, desperate whimper, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her hips grinding against me, but I didn’t move.

“Good girl.” My voice was a fierce, rough whisper, and I leaned in, my lips brushing against the back of her neck. “You’re going to take every inch of me. You’re going to scream for me. And when I knot you—”

Her breath caught, a sharp, desperate gasp, and I felt it—a twisted, dark spark of filthy need crashing through the bond. Knot. She wanted it. Needed it. Ached for it, even if she didn’t dare speak it.

“Never been knotted before, have you?” I whispered, a dark, wicked smile curling at my lips. “But you want it. You want to feel it. Feel me stretching you, locking you in place, filling you.”

Her moan was a wild, desperate cry, her hips pressing back against me, her body trembling beneath my touch. “Please—”

“Beg for it, Olivia.” My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, my lips tracing the curve of her ear. “Tell me you want my knot.”

“I—” She shuddered, her voice a breathless, trembling whisper. “I want it. I want your knot. Please, Adrian, please—”

“Louder.” I thrust against her again, feeling the slick, desperate heat of her, feeling her body shudder, hearing the frantic, wild pulse of her need through the bond.

“Gods, please, knot me. Knot me, Adrian, I need it, I need you—”

“That’s my girl. My sweet chaos.”

I thrust into her, burying myself in her perfect, tight heat, feeling her body stretch, clench around me, her wild, desperate cry a sweet, broken sound. My hand pressed against her back, pinning her against the sheets, her hips arching up, her body grinding against me.

I moved, hard and fast, each thrust sending a fierce, electric pulse crashing through me, and I felt it through the bond—the wild, filthy spiral of her thoughts, the way she needed me, ached for me, the twisted, desperate hunger that crashed against my own.

“You’re mine,” I growled, my hand sliding up, tangling in her hair, pulling her head back, my lips brushing against her ear. “You can try to leave when your little agreement is over, but I won’t let you go.”

“Adrian—”

“I’ll hunt you down. I’ll drag you back. I’ll make you scream for me again.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered, a wild, desperate laugh slipping from her lips.

“Maybe.” I leaned in, my teeth grazing her shoulder, feeling her body tighten, feeling that fierce, desperate ache twist through her. “But you love it.”

“Yes—” Her voice was a breathless, wicked moan, her body arching against me, her thighs trembling, her breath coming faster, and I felt it—that wild, perfect tension coiling inside her.

“Come for me.” I whispered, my voice a fierce, rough snarl. “Come for me, Olivia. Show me you’re mine.”

Her body shattered around me, a wild, desperate cry tearing from her lips, her nails clawing at the sheets, her hips grinding against me, her body clenching, pulsing, wild.

And I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. That fierce, perfect heat crashed through me, twisting, pulsing, and I felt it—felt the thick, swelling ache at the base of me, pressing against her, pushing, stretching, locking.

Her breath caught, her wild, desperate moans twisting into something sweeter, needier, and I buried myself in her, my knot swelling, stretching her, locking me in place, and I felt it—the fierce, possessive rush of heat, the wild, electric pulse of her pleasure crashing through me.

“ Mine .” I whispered against her ear, my voice a low, rough growl. “You’re mine, Olivia. And I’m never letting you go.”

She shuddered, her laughter a sweet, breathless sound, her voice a fierce, wicked whisper. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you.” I buried my face in the curve of her neck, my hands slipping around her, holding her against me, feeling her wild, frantic heartbeat beneath my fingertips. “And I’ll never stop.”

And gods, I felt it—the fierce, quiet warmth of her happiness, her twisted, wild thoughts, that sweet, perfect ache of knowing she was mine.

Our breaths tangled, slow and heavy, filling the warm, hazy air of the room. Her body was still pressed beneath me, locked in place, the tight, perfect heat of her wrapped around my knot, and I could feel it—her pulse, wild but steady, the soft, shuddering aftershocks of pleasure still pulsing through her. But beneath that, beneath the heat and the tangled sheets and the sweet, desperate gasps, I felt something else.

Her wolf.

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t fierce. It was quiet, calm, a soft, satisfied warmth that curled through the fragile bond between us like a slow, soothing breeze. A quiet, contented presence that mirrored the heavy, drowsy satisfaction of my own wolf.

Fuck. How was this even possible? We barely knew each other—what, a week? Maybe a little longer. She was chaos, wild and impossible, and I was… I was supposed to be better than this. Smarter. More in control. But gods, I couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop craving her. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was insane.

My fingers traced slow, lazy circles against the small of her back, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth of her skin pressed against mine. She muttered something, a faint, sleepy curse, and nestled closer, her body a soft, perfect weight against me.

But then I smelled it.

The faint, crisp scent of fresh spring rain. Cool, clean, a quiet, soothing freshness that seemed to cut through the thick, heated air of the room. Not the lingering damp of the shower, not the warm, musky scent of sweat and pleasure. Something else.

Her.

I went still, my breath catching, my senses sharpening. That scent—I’d caught it before. Faint, subtle, drifting around her like a whisper. I’d thought I was imagining it, a trick of the mind, some lingering memory of a spring storm. But it wasn’t. It was her.

Her scent.

My sweet, wild, impossible chaos was a Zeta. A Zeta with a scent—a scent so faint, so subtle that even I hadn’t recognized it at first. A scent that lingered just beneath the surface, hidden, masked.

My scent match.

The realization crashed over me like a wave, fierce and electric, twisting through the wild, desperate hunger in my chest. I tightened my grip on her, my fingers pressing against the curve of her back, my face buried in the damp, tangled mess of her dark hair.

Gods. How was I supposed to tell her? How was I supposed to explain that the thing she’d always been told she lacked—the thing that made her an outcast, a disappointment in her mother’s eyes—was the very thing that had drawn me to her in the first place?

She hated pack rules. Hated hierarchy. Hated everything about the world I was born to rule. And this? This would be the cruelest, most twisted joke the gods could play.

Because it didn’t matter that she was a Zeta. Didn’t matter that she’d laughed in my face, challenged me, fought me at every turn. I didn’t want her because of her rank or her scent. I wanted her because she was Olivia. Fierce. Defiant. Unstoppable. The woman who hadn’t even recognized me as an Alpha when we first met, who’d mistaken me for a bodyguard, who’d sneered at my title and mocked my world without a hint of fear.

She stirred against me, her fingers flexing against my chest, her soft, sleepy mumble fading into a quiet, contented sigh.

I swallowed, a faint, bitter laugh catching in my throat. Gods, I was in trouble.

Because I wasn’t just addicted to her. I was falling for her. And I had no idea how to tell her.

Her fingers traced lazy, absent circles against my chest, her cheek pressed against the curve of my shoulder, her breathing slow and steady. But then she stirred, her voice a soft, sleepy murmur.

“What?”

My heart twisted, a fierce, desperate rush of warmth crashing through me. Did she feel it too? The wild, electric tension pulsing beneath the quiet, sated calm?

But then she shifted, turning just enough to peer up at me, a faint, teasing smile curling at her lips. “How much longer is this going to last? The whole… knot thing?”

I forced a low, lazy chuckle, my fingers trailing slow, soothing circles along her damp, warm back. “Feeling impatient already? You didn’t seem to mind a few minutes ago.”

She laughed, a soft, wicked sound, her teeth grazing the curve of my shoulder. “I’m just curious. I didn’t exactly plan on getting stuck to a possessive Alpha when I woke up this morning.”

“Possessive?” I leaned back just enough to catch her gaze, letting the faintest hint of a wicked smile tug at my lips. “That’s putting it mildly. You begged for it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe I did.”

“Maybe?” I let my fingers trail down her spine, tracing slow, teasing lines, feeling the faint, delicious shiver that rippled through her. “Should I remind you of all those filthy thoughts you had? The ones I could feel, the ones you’d never dare speak out loud?”

Her eyes widened just slightly, the color in her cheeks deepening, but she didn’t lose that fierce, wild spark. “You’re making that up.”

“Oh, am I?” I leaned closer, my mouth brushing against the soft, sensitive curve of her ear. “You wanted me to take you. To make you beg. To mark you. You wanted to feel me stretch you, to feel me lock you in place, to make you mine. Isn’t that right?”

Her breath caught, a soft, desperate sound slipping from her lips, but she covered it with a defiant laugh. “You’re just full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m full of something, but I think you’re the one who’s full of me right now.”

Her laugh turned into a breathless, wicked giggle, her fingers tightening against my chest. “Gods, you’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” I leaned back, letting my fingers slip into her damp, tangled hair, brushing it away from her face, my thumb tracing the sharp, perfect line of her jaw. “But I’m not the one who begged to be ruined.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining.” Her voice softened, a faint, teasing edge threading through it, but there was something else—something warmer, something almost shy.

“No.” I couldn’t help the faint, twisted smile that tugged at my lips. “I wasn’t complaining. I was too busy listening to you fall apart. My sweet chaos.”

Her expression shifted, just slightly, the teasing light in her eyes faltering, her fingers tracing slow, absent patterns against my chest. “You really like calling me that, huh?”

“I do.” Because it was safe. Because it was the game we played—the teasing, the banter, the wild, breathless madness that wrapped around us like a shield.

Because it was better than telling her the truth.

That I was falling for her. Fast. Hard. That the thought of letting her go twisted in my chest like a knife. That I wanted more than this—more than the wild, reckless nights, more than the sharp, electric banter.

But I didn’t say any of that. I just leaned in, pressing a soft, lazy kiss against her lips, letting the warmth of her, the sweet, wild scent of her wrap around me.

“Better get comfortable,” I murmured, my fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against her back. “We’re going to be like this for a while.”

“Oh no,” she sighed, a faint, wicked smile tugging at her lips. “Trapped with an insufferable Alpha who thinks he owns me. What a nightmare.”

“I don’t think I own you.” I let my lips brush against hers, a slow, teasing kiss. “I know I do.”

Her laugh was a warm, breathless sound, and she leaned into me, her forehead resting against my shoulder. “Arrogant bastard.”

“Your arrogant bastard.”

“Don’t push it.”

But her voice softened, her fingers curling against my chest, her breath a soft, sweet whisper against my skin. And I let the banter continue, let the game play out, because it was safer than admitting the truth.

That this wasn’t just a game anymore.

That I was already in too deep.