Page 36

POLARIS

I feel hot all over. Every inch of my body is antsy, needy, desperate, and it’s all because I just witnessed two people fight over me. Two people that I feel… something for. It shouldn’t be that hot. But it was. It really was.

It doesn’t help that Asher has been ghosting his hands over my body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. It started with a brush against my arm, easing the panic and tension that first plagued me, but it quickly morphed into his hands at my waist, flexing as my pulse rang wild in my ears.

I could hardly breathe by the time they were done, partly with worry and another part… desire. Now, I’m ready to explode.

The referee calls it, declaring Wylder the winner.

He lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as the crowd goes wild, but my focus is on the vampire who steps from the ring with his usual swagger.

Uncertainty wars inside of me, but as I reach the bottom of the steps, his gaze finds mine among the throng of people, and he winks before getting swept up in the crowd.

I exhale, relieved. One move from him, and I know everything is okay—or as okay as it can be.

Taking another deep breath, my gaze snaps back to Wylder. Only now, he’s not flat on his back; he’s standing, eyes already fixed on me as a grin spreads across his face.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip, butterflies erupting in my stomach as he crooks a finger at me.

Hot.

This is the third fight I’ve witnessed at The Aurum, each one for Wylder. The first time, he came to me, finding me in the crowd before tugging me along to his locker room. The second, Asher swept me away to the VIP section. Now, it’s my turn to make the effort to go to him.

My cheeks heat as I move through the crowd, completely aware of the eyes tracking me. We’re not a part of the same faction, that much is sure, but it seems the wolves don’t care, and I’ve never spent time, until now, in an environment where it mattered, so fuck it.

Fuck all of it.

I want what I want, and so do they.

With my mind made up, I stride the remaining distance with a confidence I’ve never felt before. I’ve only ever felt like this in their grasp, but never like this. It’s invigorating.

Stopping at the edge of the ring, I peer up at him. The grin on his lips is wider than ever, but he crooks a finger again, making it clear exactly where he wants me.

In there. With him.

Gulping, I eye the steps, and another official in a black and white striped shirt that matches the referee’s offers me a hand.

My nerves vibrate through my bones as I reach the top and the official sits on the rope, dropping it to give me better access.

I nervously slip through the gap, barely putting both feet on the mat before I’m swept off my feet again.

Wylder pins me to his sweaty chest, peppering kisses across my face, throat, and shoulder, and I giggle in his hold. He tries to hike my legs around his waist, but I gasp, acutely aware of how short my dress is.

“My dress,” I plead, and his hands relax against my thighs, settling around my middle as he smirks down at me.

“ My dress,” he corrects with that possessive tone that works so well for him, but I roll my eyes instead of melting into the needy puddle that I am.

“Your dress? Yeah, I think it would suit you,” I state, and he laughs whole-heartedly. He tosses his head back as the raspy tone parts his lips, and I bask in the sound for a moment, forgetting we are still in the center of the room with hundreds and hundreds of people likely watching us.

When his gaze falls back to mine, his smile is soft, victorious.

“So, I won,” he states, lowering me to my feet as he plays with a loose tendril of hair framing my face.

“So you did,” I breathe, holding on to his shoulders.

“What do I get?” he asks, wagging his eyebrows. I shake my head, a light giggle slipping from my mouth.

“This was your idea. No way in Hell am I just going to hand it to you,” I tease, tingles running down my spine under his intense stare.

He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip with a slight nod. “I want to fuck you in this ring.”

I gulp.

Damn.

“With an audience?” I clarify, and he scoffs.

“Fuck no. But there’s a training gym,” he explains, pointing over his shoulder toward the locker rooms.

The suggestion is evident in his eyes, and a spark of excitement pools in the pit of my stomach, eager to see what he has planned.

“Then why are we still here?” I ask, and a wisp of breath pulls from my lips as he grabs my waist, hoisting me in the air.

He’s moving to the edge of the ring before I even realize what’s going on. I try to keep the hem of my dress over my ass as he saunters over the rope with little effort, keeping me in place over his shoulder before storming through the crowd.

Everyone calls out his name, but instead of hyping it up like he usually would, he barely responds, offering little acknowledgement as he beelines for the back exit with my body perfectly secured over his shoulder.

All I have is the perfect view of his ass in his loose shorts. I only notice that we’re no longer in the main space when the music and cheers die off, disappearing as a door closes behind us. The air feels cooler along my heated skin as the sound of another door opens and shuts at Wylder’s touch.

I can sense his body shift, a calmness relaxing his shoulders as his strides slow. His palm runs over my ass cheek before he grabs my waist and lowers me to the floor. Only when I get my balance do I find myself inside another ring, the rope separating us, but not for long.

The moment I take a step back, I slip through the rope so we’re toe to toe, completely alone in a ring just for us two, while everyone else continues to celebrate elsewhere.

Despite the coolness in the air, my body temperature still runs hot. Goosebumps tingle over my arms as he stares at me like he’s really taking me in.

“What now?” I ask, nervous, but refusing to show it, so I force myself to stand tall instead of hiding behind my folded arms or another form of defense I would usually resort to.

“Now you’re mine,” he rasps, his eyes growing more hooded with every breath he takes.

“And what does that look like?” I cock a brow at him, teasing, and he takes the bait, inching closer to run the tip of his finger over the exposed skin on my chest.

I shiver when he dips his finger down between the valley of my breasts before following the material of my halter top straps.

“It definitely involves more skin,” he states, snaking a hand to the back of my neck as he tugs at the bow holding it in place.

The material falls away, slipping down over my chest, stopping at my waist to expose my breasts.

“Hands down, these are the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, running his thumb over the pebbled peaks, and I feel my blush spread across my cheeks.

Before I can think of anything to say in response, he leans closer, engulfing my taut nipples in his mouth, one at a time, swirling his tongue in the most delicious way possible as I cling to his arms, a groan tumbling from my lips.

“Wylder,” I gasp, and he releases my nipple with a pop, grinning up at me.

“They look even prettier when they’re glistening,” he states, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as my thighs press together with desire. “Do you know what else looks prettier when it’s glistening?” he asks, bringing his lips to my ear, and I shiver.

Shaking my head, I expect to feel his lips continue to drag over the shell of my ear, but he doesn’t use words to answer. No. He resorts to his hands instead.

Slowly, so damn slowly, he trails his calloused hands over my thighs, slipping under the hem of my dress. My legs part instinctively as his fingertips press against the lace of my panties, and I hiss.

“Let me see it, Little Witch.” He stands back, adjusting his cock beneath his shorts as I stand nervously in the center of the ring.

My confidence wavers without him so close, but his eyes on me seem to give me strength as I curl my thumb into the material at my waist, slipping it over my thighs along with my panties. I also kick my shoes off for good measure, so I’m completely bare for him.

“Congratulations on your win, Wylder,” I breathe, letting the fabric drift to the floor beside me.

“Spin. Slowly,” he commands huskily, and my tongue swipes out across my bottom lip, but I do as he asks.

The room shifts as I take my time turning, but I don’t take any of it in, too focused on how my body reacts to his undivided attention.

All too quickly, we’re facing each other again, and I consider spinning one more time, addicted to how it makes me feel when his gaze leaves goosebumps, but he crooks his finger at me.

As I step closer, he slips his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts, letting them pool at his feet, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his cock. It’s rock hard, looking as needy as I feel.

I give in, beginning to lower to my knees so I can feel the weight of him on my tongue, but he grabs my arms before my knees hit the mat. “No, Little Witch. I’ve been dreaming about stretching your cunt out while you’re bent over the rope.”

Gaping at him, I nod, already needy at the idea of it.

He pulls me against his chest, crushing his lips against mine, and I fight for control for a minute before I willingly give in, desperate to feel his dominance over me.

As his hand curls into my hair, I groan, quickly feeling the loss of his body pressed against mine before I feel the rope against my hot skin.

The fibers rub against my body, across my chest, and my nipples grow tighter.

I feel the rope shift to my left, and I understand why a moment later when Wylder appears on the other side.

He takes a few steps back for good measure, running his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip as he drinks me in.