Page 5

ARIA

H eat. Enticing, all-consuming heat cocooned my body, and I never wanted to leave.

A small sigh of contentment escaped my lips, and I shifted to snuggle closer to the big furnace wrapped around me. Its hold around my body tightened, like a boa constricting around my waist, and I tensed.

My eyes popped open, and momentary fear clamped down on my throat as, through the darkness, I saw a tan, brawny arm secured tight around my middle. My spine went straight, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

There was a man in my bed. There was a man in my bed!

No, I thought. Not my bed.

The events of the previous day crashed over me at the same moment that sweet tobacco leaf and mint infiltrated my lungs. My racing heart calmed in the slightest as I realized that Malik must’ve slipped into bed beside me while I slept, but every muscle in my body remained stiff.

I tried to remember his return. The night before, I only intended to rest my eyes while I waited for Malik and hadn’t wanted to dirty the sheets by wearing my jeans and blouse to bed. I must’ve severely underestimated my exhaustion. At the moment, I could only recall dreams of warmth.

With wide eyes, I did a mental scan of my body. As far as I could tell, my bra and panties remained untouched, and I nearly shuddered with relief.

Malik’s arm tucked me in the curve of him, both of us lying on our sides.

Our hips aligned, and every inch of my spine plastered against the pillowy muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Coarse hair tickled my shoulders. One of his thighs parted my legs, coming to rest between them and pressing into my center.

Despite his scorching skin, I shivered.

I should’ve been horrified by the intimacy of our position. Should’ve been angered that he pulled me so close while I slept, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything beyond pleasant surprise and fascination.

And the unfamiliar churning of liquid warmth at the very core of my being.

I tried to clamp my thighs together at the strange sensation, only to realize too late that my mate’s femur still rested firm between them. I gasped as pleasure tingled from the spot where his sweatpants-clad leg rubbed against my panties.

Oh, I nearly moaned out loud but managed to hold back the embarrassing noise by biting into my bottom lip. Hard.

Although the friction offered me momentary relief, its aftereffects only increased the delicious ache tenfold. I swore I felt my heartbeat pulse at my sex, urging me to seek relief again with every fluttering beat.

I clamped my eyes shut and banned the sinful suggestion from my mind. Instead, I tried squirming away from his heavy arm, hopeful that a bit of distance between our bodies might cool the tantalizing burn in my blood .

Only, his arm was very heavy. I barely gained an inch of separation between his front and my back, but my movement did accomplish something.

Something hard and startlingly big pressed into my lower back, right between the dimples at the base of my spine. Another wiggle and it somehow became even harder and more prominent. Curious, I almost did it again.

Then, Malik’s big body shifted behind mine, a deep huff of air pushed out of his lungs, and I almost yelped.

Oh Goddess, please don’t wake up! I chanted my silent prayer as my cheeks heated to their melting point. Willing every muscle in my body to go deathly still, I closed my eyes and held my breath.

Malik’s hold on my waist loosened in the slightest, and he immediately jerked his hips backward, as if I’d caused him physical pain with my careless movements. He peeled his chest away next, and the mattress lifted as he removed himself from the bed.

Instant regret seized my heart, and my body mourned the loss of his heat and secure hold.

Heavy footsteps traveled across the wooden floors toward the bathroom, but I refused to even open my eyes until the door closed behind him.

With the soft click, I propped myself up on my elbow and glanced around the room.

It was still dark outside, and the little clock on the nightstand read 4:46 AM.

Sitting up a bit more, I pulled the silky sheets up on my body, covering my chest as my gaze swept to the empty space on the mattress beside me.

The indentation of Malik’s body remained, and, when I pressed my palm to the imprint, his warmth lingered, too.

The shower started running within the bathroom, and I stared at the crack of light beneath the door. His shadow moved across the tile until it eventually traveled beyond my sight .

Had I hurt him with my… wiggling ? What if I angered him? Or— oh, Moon Goddess— had he been able to scent my arousal?

I groaned, burying my head in my hands and wishing that I could take back the last five minutes.

If I was braver, I wouldn't have pretended to sleep when I sensed that he was waking up. I would’ve faced him, head on.

We could have communicated, albeit, with a bit of difficulty, but it would’ve been better than this.

Embarrassed, I tossed myself back on the pillow once more and imagined how I would possibly face Malik when he exited the bathroom again. I should apologize. Or, perhaps it would be better to pretend that nothing happened? Fake sleep once more?

By the time I heard the shower turn off, my head spun from all of my conflicting plans to mend the situation. I flipped onto my side and watched his shadow move beneath the door again.

When the handle turned, I panicked.

MALIK

Aria was awake, even though she tried her damnedest to convince me otherwise.

As soon as I walked out of the bathroom, a towel secured low on my hips, I heard her breath hitch.

Then, her inhales turned rigid and fake, like a machine manually expanding her lungs.

She curled in on herself, facing the bathroom door now as if she couldn’t stop herself from monitoring my movements when I left the bed. She didn’t trust me.

I frowned and turned away from her faux-sleeping form, moving into the closet to fetch clothes .

Grappling with one of the few pairs of jeans that I kept in this room, I ground my teeth and cursed my foolishness.

I shouldn’t have allowed myself to touch her last night. Shouldn’t have held her in my arms.

I’d crossed a boundary that my little dove wasn’t comfortable with. Why else would she have been squirming against my embrace? She was horrified of me and wanted to escape, no doubt.

And, like a fucking monster, I’d woken up with a raging hard-on.

As soon as I realized it, I shot out of bed, but guilt still gnawed at my gut. I’d always prided myself on my self-control, but with Aria, my fated mate… Well, I had to fuck my own hand in the shower twice before my cock calmed down.

With my jeans hanging unbuttoned on my hips, I rubbed at the ugly, jagged scar that tainted my neck from ear to ear and sighed.

I hated it.

If I didn’t have this scar, I could’ve walked out of the closet, sat on the edge of the bed, and spoken to Aria.

Could’ve apologized for scaring her and promised not to do it again.

I could’ve explained my plans to move her out of my brother’s pack house and into my home, where she’d be safe and free and mine.

Instead, I was hiding in the closet. Silent. Forced to communicate with her using a fucking notepad.

Clenching my jaw to the point of pain, I grabbed the first gray t-shirt from my meager stack and slid it over my torso.

The fabric fit a bit too snug, unsurprising considering I hadn’t restocked this closet in the five years since I decided to keep a spare handful of clothing in it for scenarios like this.

It seemed I’d grown in size and musculature since then.

Dressed, I pushed open the closet door once more and, despite the darkness shrouding the room, saw my little mate stiffen at my presence.

Swallowing my disappointment, I hardened myself against her disgust and walked toward the nightstand, where the notepad still waited from last night. Pen in hand, I flipped to the next open page and glared at the empty space.

For a moment, I contemplated scrawling another hasty message, demanding that Aria wait in the bedroom and not leave until I returned later. With the tip of my pen pressed to the yellow paper, the ink began to bleed onto the sheet, but I paused.

Cold, impersonal notes wouldn’t do anything to lessen Aria’s fear of me.

My throat bobbed as I glanced over at her still shape on the bed, then my hand started moving of its own accord.

Little dove,

Good morning. I hope you slept well. Again, I ask that you refrain from exiting this room alone today. I’ll ask a friend, Emerson, to wait outside the room at dawn. She will take you to have breakfast and help you settle into our home.

Stay with Emerson until I return tonight.

Yours,

Malik

I read and reread the note. My handwriting was piss poor, and I’d never cared enough to improve it during school. My brother needed my fighting ability, not my skills with a pen and paper. And I certainly was no poet.

Once or twice, I considered crumbling the note up and reverting to my hasty, impersonal scribblings. At least they wouldn’t make me feel like a besotted idiot.

I eyed the end of my note. ‘Yours.’

Heat threatened to climb up my neck at the affection-laced farewell. Would the word upset Aria? Or would it offer a glimpse of the deep, all-consuming devotion that I’d felt for her the moment I laid eyes on her?

According to fate and the Moon Goddess and, frankly, every fiber in my body, I was hers. And she was mine.

Eventually, I forced myself to put the notepad back on the nightstand, no longer willing to waste any more time pondering the note. Although my mind told me to make a swift exit to get an early start on my duties for the day, I found myself lingering by the edge of the bed.

Aria rested at the center of the mattress, her gold-spun hair cascading over her shoulder and across her pillow. Her breast rose and fell with each steady inhale. She was getting better at faking sleep already.

Despite myself, I reached over the mattress and brushed my knuckle against her brow where a tendril of blonde hair had fallen. The strand slipped between my index and middle finger, like silk against the calluses.

At my touch, Aria’s full dark lashes fluttered open. Eyes of vivid blue blinked up at me, and, to my surprise and confusion, there wasn’t a hint of fear in their depths.

“M-Malik?” she whispered, shifting to support her body on an elbow.

The sound of my name on her lips made my heart rate swell until it battered against my chest like a hammer.

She pushed further up on her elbow, and the sheets fell down her body to reveal her bra and cleavage. I forced my gaze back to her face, even as heat surged through my veins. Hell.

I quickly attempted to draw my hand back, away from her face, as if it could somehow harm her through sheer proximity. Before I could successfully bring it back to my side, however, her own fingers wrapped around my hand.

“Wait,” she pleaded, pulling my fingers back to her impossibly soft cheek and holding my palm there. She leaned into my touch, and it bewildered me. “Where are you going?”

My brows knitted together, and, for the briefest second, I opened my mouth to answer her.

No sound came out, but even the attempt sent pain prickling at my vocal cords.

In the years following my injury, I made the same mistake countless times a day, but it hadn’t happened in half a decade.

Somehow, this newness with Aria made me forget.

I immediately clamped my lips shut once more, embarrassed by my inability to answer such a simple question. Far more roughly than I intended, I yanked my hand back to grab the notepad from the nightstand.

Her eyes widened at my harsh treatment, something like hurt pooling in the blue, and I hated myself even more.

I needed to get the hell out of that room, before that hurt transformed into something worse. Ripping my eyes away from hers, I cast the notepad on the mattress but didn’t wait for her to read it.

Instead, I turned on my heel and retreated. Just like a damn coward.