Page 9

ARIA

M y mind reeled. Heat scorched my neck and my cheeks.

Moments ago, Malik stormed past me and shut himself behind the sliding barn door across the room, but I still couldn’t move. I felt my heartbeat in every corner and chasm of my body—thumping between my ears, pounding against my ribcage, pulsing at the apex of my thighs…

I clamped my eyes shut, and the image of my mate standing naked in the doorway played in my mind.

Malik was beautiful.

Not by the conventional standards. Not like the boys I’d entertained feelings for throughout my adolescence, with perfect hair and finely-cut, picturesque muscles.

No, Malik couldn’t be compared to those boys.

He looked like a god. One of the great warriors that served the Moon Goddess—that warmed her bed and tore cities down in her name. He could’ve been plucked from the heavens, and I wouldn’t have blinked an eye .

He reminded me of a grizzly bear in stature. The sheer size of him— all of him—should’ve frightened me. Instead, my blood raced with pride and possession and need.

Dark hair dusted his impossibly long legs, padded in thick muscle that stretched and shifted with each movement.

In fact, muscle covered every inch of his body, from the bulk of his shoulders to the ridges lining his torso, though his stomach possessed a natural softness, too.

His muscle had been earned in battle. It was real.

And the rest of him…

I hadn’t allowed myself to study the rest of him. Not like I truly wanted to.

I almost groaned at the memory of that part of him. Dark hair trailing down from his navel. A thick rod hanging half-limp from his groin, lengthening and stiffening with every passing second. A darker, bulbous head bobbing up and down as he strode past me.

A fresh wave of arousal rushed to my center, and I clenched my thighs tight.

Goddess, I’d never felt anything like it but recognized it as my body’s natural response to its fated partner. I wanted more. Wanted relief for the liquid heat that pooled at my apex. But Malik was gone. Shut away behind that door, and I didn’t have the courage to follow.

Then, as if summoned by my thoughts alone, the door flew open. It rattled, the walls shaking from the force.

I gasped, then my lungs stopped functioning properly as Malik prowled toward me once again. His one functioning pupil expanded, and electricity prickled down my spine. This male was a predator, far more formidable than any other I’d faced, but my gut knew he’d never hurt me.

I barely had time to register the large swell within the confines of his gray sweatpants before his hands landed on my waist. Hard. Unrelenting.

One moment, I stood in the center of his kitchen.

The next, he had me hoisted up against the white countertop, pushing my legs open to stand between them.

Like instinct, my thighs parted to accommodate him, and a solid mass pressed hot against the seam of my denim.

I steadied myself with my hands on the cool marble, bracing against the weight of him.

He couldn’t speak, but I knew what he needed. I’d seen the disgust flicker in his gaze when he inhaled Roman’s scent on my neck.

And now, he pressed close. His long, disheveled brown hair tickled my cheeks, my collarbone as he lowered his scarred face to my neck. To the same spot where his brother had sucked at my pulse and kissed my skin.

Malik inhaled, the tip of his nose brushing the hollow beneath my ear. He started trembling. Like a mountain during an earthquake, he simmered with barely controlled rage. Waiting.

I resisted the urge to shiver and tipped my head to the side instead.

“Go ahead,” I whispered, acutely aware of my nipples straining against my bra. The friction only heightened the insatiable ache spreading through my center. “You have my permission. I want you to erase him.”

The softest semblance of a growl rasped from his chest, so weak that I might’ve imagined it. Then, he moved.

One hand landed on my jaw and angled my head to the side, while the other remained on my hip and yanked me closer to the edge of the counter. The pad of his thumb was rough against my chin. His nose nuzzled down the column of my throat, his bearded jaw scratching at the sensitive skin in his path.

He inhaled again. Paused .

Guilt reared its ugly head.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again, trembling of my own accord.

Malik stiffened. Without moving his hands, he pulled back a few inches to meet my gaze. His eyes were still hard and hungry, but a question lingered in them now as well.

“I know it smells bad,” I explained, dropping my gaze to his bare chest. Shame heated my cheeks. “Your brother’s scent on me. I’m sorry you have to endure it.”

I didn’t look up to see his reaction, but his hand pressed harder into my hip, fingertips digging into my fleshy backside. A beat of unbearable silence passed between us. Then another, and I realized I was clutching the edge of the countertop for dear life.

At last, Malik lowered his head once more. This time, however, he did not stop.

His lips parted at the base of my throat, just above the left side of my collarbone. And he kissed me there.

It was a slow, thorough caress, his tongue gliding along my pulse point for one long moment. Followed by the scraping of his teeth, gentle and tentative. Not hard enough to pierce my skin, even though a part of me craved that bite of pain.

My eyelashes fluttered closed, a sense of rightness spilling over my body. I barely managed to swallow back a moan.

Malik lifted his head from my neck, just an inch, but I couldn’t contain my whimper. A throaty, desperate sound that begged him to come back and kiss my throat again. Fortunately, he simply brushed his mouth upward, toward the hollow beneath my ear, before repeating the process on this new spot.

I exhaled my contentment as his palm moved to spread across my nape, tangling in my hair. My stomach fluttered, winding up the growing tightness beneath my navel, and I dared to rock my hips forward.

If it weren’t for his solid body, I would’ve slipped directly off the countertop. As it was, my center rolled against the mass straining against his sweats, offering a hint of blessed relief for the tension building there.

A hiss of air rushed past his lips, fanning my skin and sending a shiver down my vertebrae. I surprised him, it seemed, but he recovered quickly enough, rewarding me by sealing his lips over the base of my throat and sucking— hard.

My skin stung as he pulled, then nibbled, and sucked again. Overriding any trace of another male’s scent. Lavishing.

Blood pounding, chest heaving, my body felt like it was on fire. I tried to squirm, desperate for a hint of friction against his solid form to quell the flame. My breasts felt heavy. My core felt tingly and slick.

I started to wonder if he felt even a quarter of this all-consuming want, but not for long.

With his head still buried against my neck, Malik’s hips started to move. He rolled against me with slow, deliberate thrusts. Despite the denim and cotton separating us, his fully erect cock sent bolts to my own sex with each deep undulation.

Eyes closed, I could imagine what it might feel like without our clothing. Would he fill me with these same, long, and purposeful strokes? Slam into me, his wide hips pounding until I manage to take every inch…

Pressure built inside of me. Delicious and filthy. Desperate and greedy. It wanted more. More. More. More.

I chased the unknown, letting instinct guide my actions. Head still rolled back to give my mate full access to my neck, I met his thrusts with my own.

Ragged breaths ripped from his mouth. He bit harder on my neck, still not breaking through my skin’s barrier, but close. So close to a true mark. I readied myself for that flash of pain, even as I came dangerously close to the edge of… something .

Desperate, I clutched at his shoulders. I needed to touch him. To mark him like he marked me.

My fingers slid up his chest, nails curling into the slabs of muscle. I sought his hair, suddenly eager to run my hands through it. On their way, my hands skimmed over his neck.

Yes. Yes. Yes ? —

The pads of my fingers grazed a strange, stiff lump. Malik froze.

It was like being doused by a bucket of ice water.

He wrenched away from my wandering hands. My entire body. Disoriented, I nearly fell from the countertop but managed to catch myself on the edge.

I was shivering. Cold.

When I looked up again, Malik stood several paces away. His chest heaved, and he stared at me with near pitch-black eyes. Wide. Alarmed. And his hands hovered above the jagged, ruined scar that sliced across his voice box, bisecting him from ear to ear. The same scar I’d just touched.

“Oh Goddess!” I cried, immediately sliding down from the counter. “Malik, I didn’t mean to?—”

Color rose on his cheeks, but he continued to cover his scar with trembling hands. Protecting it.

I dared a step forward, but, like repelling magnets, he retreated. His eyes hardened, lips drawing into a straight line. Although he could not speak the words aloud, his expression spoke volumes. Do not touch my scars. Ever again.

My heart clenched to the point of pain, and I staggered back to the counter, bracing my hands on either side of me. I should’ve known. Should’ve been more careful. I should have asked. Hesitated.

Just as Malik hesitated before he touched me.

The surface of my eyes prickled, and I opened my mouth to start another apology, but he had already turned away from me. Malik adjusted himself in his sweatpants as he walked toward the front door, and I didn’t have the courage to stop him. If he needed space, I would give it to him.

I stayed in the kitchen long after my mate left, staring at nothingness and wondering how the situation had warped so quickly.

How I could possibly rectify it… And every time I inhaled his lingering scent, I was reminded of what we’d done in the kitchen.

How perfectly our bodies fit together. How my blood sang in response to his touch.

A dull ache spread through my belly.

Although I smelled like I belonged to Malik, I felt further away from him than ever.