Page 15

The feral energy hadn't lessened, but a flicker of something else surfaced—a sharper, unnerving intensity, a focus that went beyond simple hunger.

He lowered his head, his face close to hers, his voice dropping to a low, resonant murmur that vibrated through the wood beneath her.

“Before this goes any further,” he breathed, the scent of that citrus, herbs, and ozone filling her senses, “know this, Weaver.” His gaze locked with hers, demanding her attention.

“Despite the venom? Despite these threads? You still hold the leash.” He paused, letting the words sink in, the contrast between her physical helplessness and his statement jarring.

“One word from you, little butterfly—a true command to stop?” He emphasized the word, his voice dropping even lower, strangely devoid of mockery or manipulation in that single moment.

“Speak it, and I will release you instantly. This ends the moment you desire it.”

He held her gaze, the predator momentarily stayed, his fangs inches from her skin, the golden threads biting into her wrists, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. The choice, terrifying and thrilling, was suddenly, explicitly hers .

The poison would remove her desire to end it, though.

Once it burned through her veins, there would be no going back. She would be in his hands—in his web, for lack of a better word. She would have to…trust him. Entirely.

He nipped at her earlobe again, an impatient growl rumbling through his chest. He had stayed the beast—but his control could clearly only last so long. “What say you, Weaver?”

Then came his touch. One of his hands splayed possessively across her stomach.

Her muscles clenched involuntarily beneath his palm.

Slowly, deliberately, those piercing eyes of his watching her reaction the entire time, his fingers slid downwards, tracing the curve of her hip, the pads of his fingers brushing the waistband of her jeans.

It was a deliberate exploration. He was calling her bluff. Challenging her resolve and feeding his own impatience.

And damn her if she didn’t arch up into his touch reflexively without meaning to. Shutting her eyes, she couldn’t handle any of it. She was overwhelmed by it all. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t just agree to this.

But she didn’t want him to stop, either.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt at her waist, sliding it up to expose her skin.

She gasped. It was the most intimately he had ever touched her before.

The shock of the heat of his skin against hers had her eyes flying back open.

His touch wasn’t rough—not like the kiss he had paid her before.

It was deliberate. Methodical. He was drawing slow circles at her hipbone, at the bundle of nerves there, making her jolt and shiver, writhing in the binds that kept her stretched wide upon his table.

“Does this frighten you, little butterfly?” He tilted his head to the side slightly, his gaze fixed on her face, drinking in her reaction. “The thought of surrendering to desire…?”

It did. It terrified her.

But she didn’t want to confess that to him.

He shifted, climbing on top of the table to loom over her .

His face lowered again, his fangs still prominent, the strange, sharp scent of his power filling the space between them. He wasn't explicitly threatening with the venom now, but its presence was a constant, terrifying, and alluring undertone.

He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, a feather-light contact that was somehow more potent than the earlier bruising kiss. “You haven't told me to stop,” he whispered, the beast's growl softened to a silken, dangerous purr. “Tell me, Ava. Tell me what you really want.”

His question hung in the air, heavy and demanding, echoing the frantic pulse drumming in her ears. Tell me what you really want.

Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp.

His fingers, hot against the bare skin of her hip, sent shattering tremors through her, short-circuiting the last vestiges of her resistance.

The conflict that had raged within her—fear against desire, defiance against need, the memory of betrayal against the overwhelming presence of him —reached its breaking point.

It was too much. The constant tension, the terror, the undeniable, consuming wanting he stoked with every look, every touch, every word.

What she really wanted?

Was him.

Now.

Like this.

And she wanted him to take it.

“Fuck you.” It was the best she could do. “You fucking bastard.”

And that about summarized it.

Serrik laughed. Quiet, and mixed with a low growl of triumph, thick with predatory satisfaction. He knew what she was saying, in between the lines.

Permission granted. Just don’t make me admit it to you. Please. Because I’m already past my breaking point.

The devilish edge to his smile sharpened, morphing into something darkly ecstatic.

“Perfect,” he murmured, the sound almost reverent, dangerously soft against her skin.

His hand slid further, confidently now, fingers mapping the curve of her waist, the indentation just above her hip bone, claiming the territory she had finally ceded.

He lowered his head, burying his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, possessively, like a predator savoring its captured prey.

The heat of his breath ghosted over the frantic pulse point just below her ear.

His fangs, still perilously close, grazed her skin, a deliberate, terrifying promise.

“You feel it now, don't you?” he whispered, his voice muffled against her throat, sending shivers cascading down her spine. “The relief…of finally letting go. Of admitting you are prey.”

Without waiting for an answer, knowing none was needed, his lips claimed hers again.

This kiss wasn't the brutal assault of before, nor was it gentle.

It was deep, consuming, demanding —the kiss of a conqueror savoring his victory.

There was no hiding from it. No retreating from what he was making her confront.

There was no avoiding what she’d chosen.

He drank the soft gasp from her lips, his tongue tangling once more with hers, already healed from her bite.

Everything was sensations, and only sensations—his kiss deepened, stealing her breath.

His tongue mapped out every contour of her mouth with an intimacy that sent spirals of heat coiling low in her body.

The initial shock of it all bled out into a dizzying rush.

The terrifying freedom of no longer fighting him was slowly being replaced with the stark reality of the situation.

The cool wood at her back. The unyielding bite of the golden threads at her wrists and ankles.

The scorching heat of his hand exploring her bare skin beneath her shirt.

It deleted her ability to have any rational thought at all.

Anything that wasn’t him.

His hand roamed her body with agonizing slowness, exploring her, brushing over the sensitive skin of her ribs, speaking volumes about the shift that had just happened between them.

Her breath hitched again as she instinctively arched closer. Silently needing more—begging for more. She was still terrified—absolutely fucking terrified of him—but that cold fear was a sharp contrast to the fire he was igniting in her.

When he broke the kiss, lifting his head enough for them both to breathe, he studied her with a thinly veiled hunger. “How beautiful…”

His hand finally wandered up to her breast, thumb grazing the soft underside through the fabric of her bra. It was a tease. Throwing her head back, she arched her back, desperately seeking more of his touch.

The chuckle was pure cruelty. He was doing this on purpose. “Look at you writhe, little butterfly.” He leaned down, nuzzling the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, his fangs gently scraping against her skin.

He nipped lightly at the pulse point beating frantically beneath her skin before lifting his head just enough to meet her gaze again. The beast within him was fully present but channeled now into a singular, consuming purpose.

“Are you ready,” he breathed, the words less a question, more a final declaration before crossing the ultimate threshold, "to become mine ?”

It was too late for her.

It had been too late for her since the moment she’d set eyes on him.

With a shuddering exhale, she tilted her head away.

And invited him in.