Page 4

Chapter4

ANYA DIDN’TMOVE.

Couldn’t.

Not with the way Tor’Vek was looking at her. Not with the heat radiating off him in thick, invisible waves. The bracelet on her wrist didn’t pulse anymore—it throbbed. Not with warning this time. With a deep, hungry craving.

And that terrified her more than anything that had come before.

His breathing deepened. He clenched his jaw so tightly a muscle ticked along the edge. Those violet-glowing eyes burned into her, not with rage now, but with a cold, calculating hunger that promised ruin—mind, body, soul—until there was nothing left buthim.

Not just destruction. Possession.

“I dreamed of this,” he said, voice rough and low. “You ran from me. Not far. You wanted me to catch you.”

Her stomach dropped.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, while she retreated, until her back met the cold metal wall. One hand came up beside her head. Not touching—yet. But caging.

“I chased you through the woods,” he murmured. “Watched your hips sway as you tried to escape. You did not run fast. You wanted me to follow.”

Her mouth wentdry.

“You wanted to be caught.”

She should push him away. Scream. Shove her wayout.

But a deeper part of her wanted to see what would happen if she didn’t. She stood suspended in the storm of him, body frozen, breath caught, craving rising despite every warning her mind tried to scream.

The bracelet flared with heat at her wrist, and she gasped—because it wasn’t just his need now. It was hers. Amplified. Heightened.

Arousal spilled into her system like liquid fire. Her skin felt too tight, her breath too shallow, every nerve in her body lighting up like a live wire. It was overwhelming, addictive, terrifying—and somehow exactly what she wanted. Her body answered his without hesitation, her core clenching with a desperate ache she couldn’t suppress. She’d never felt anything like it. Not even close.

“I caught you, trapped you,” he continued, his lips coasting over her temple. “Slid my hand between your legs while you begged me not to stop. Istripped you bare and pressed you up against a tree.”

His hand found the hem of her shirt.

She should stop him. She knew that. Every rational voice in her head screamed that this was too much, too fast, too dangerous. But another voice—just as loud, just as primal—urged him on. She didn’t want him to stop. Not when her body felt like it might combust without him. Not when everything in her ached for the press of his hands, the force of his need. Her heart thudded painfully, torn between fear and craving, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

“I can show you what I did to you,” he whispered.

She didn’t sayyes.

But she didn’t say no, either. Deep down, buried under fear and reason, was the part of her that had already made the decision. The part that wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted, to be claimed, to belong to something—to someone—who saw her as necessary. That part whispered louder than the rest. And in that breathless pause between thought and action, she gavein.

In a swift, fluid motion, he yanked the shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. The air hit her skin, cool against the heat that was blooming inside her. Her nipples tightened. Her thighs clenched. She felt exposed and branded by hisgaze.

He spun her to face thewall.

“Hands,” hesaid.

She braced her palms against the metal. It was cold—shocking against her overheated skin, aharsh reminder of reality against the fevered haze of the moment. The contrast only made her shiver harder, nerves firing as though his touch had fused into the wall itself.

His body pressed in behind hers, solid and hot. His hands dragged down her sides, palms exploring every curve—her ribs, her hips, the underswell of her breasts. He cupped them, thumbs flicking across her nipples. She let out a low, shuddering cry, unable to stop herself.

“I remember how you sounded,” he murmured, mouth close to her ear. “In the dream. Moaning for me.”

One hand drifted lower, dragging slowly over the curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach, then lower still, tracing a path down the inside of her thigh before sliding back up with tormenting slowness. Each inch he covered ignited a fresh cascade of heat under her skin. She whimpered before she could stop herself, her body arching slightly into the promise of his touch. It was maddening—the control he had, the control she gave him. And God help her, she wantedmore.

She bit her lip, her breath caught in her throat.

“Open for me,” he ordered, nudging her feet apart with hisown.

Her breath hitched. She obeyed.

He slid his hand between her legs. Found her slick. Groaned against herneck.

“You are wet for me.”

Two fingers slid into her, slow and deliberate, filling her as his palm pressed against her clit. She arched into him with another whimper. His other hand wrapped around her body again, tracing lazy circles over her breast, thumb scraping the peaked tip until her knees threatened to giveout.

The bond surged. Pleasure crashed into her like a shockwave—not just hers, but his. His hunger. His satisfaction at finding her this way. His desperate need for her. It was all-consuming, raw and wild, and it poured through the bond into her, making it impossible to separate where his desire ended and hers began.

Part of her still clung to the edge of reason, knew this was dangerous, that she should resist. But the rest of her—every trembling inch—ached for more. Needed more. And she was losing the fight not to give in completely.

Her hips rolled against his hand, chasing every stroke with a desperate hunger she no longer tried to hide. Her moans spilled out, louder, broken, each one a confession she couldn’t hold back. The sound embarrassed her and thrilled her in equal measure, astrange vulnerability blooming inside her even as she chased the next wave of sensation.

There was something unspoken in every cry, something wild and exposed—as if giving herself to him like this meant more than just pleasure. It meant surrender. She was past the point of shame, past thought, past fear—just heat and need, her body screaming for him to finish what he started.

Part of her still knew she should resist. But the rest of her—the louder, bolder part—begged for his touch, for his claim, for the wildfire consuming her to finally break loose.

He fucked her with his fingers, hard and deep, each thrust sending heat spiraling through her core. His thumb stayed locked on her clit, dragging her higher. His other hand pinched her nipple, tugged, twisted. She cried out, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure climbed higher, her legs shaking.

Then he pulledaway.

She almost sobbed from theloss.

Clothing rustled behind her. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see him stripping off his trousers, and her breath caught at the sight of him. There was no way any human man was built like that. Long and thick, adeeper bronze than the rest of his skin, the length of his cock was ringed with small golden-brown mounds that pulsed in a rhythmic pattern, as though responding to the bond itself.

The tip flared in a subtle diamond shape, already beaded with pre-cum, and the slit at the head wasn’t a slit at all—it was crosshatched, intricate and alien. At the base, just above his groin, athick knot sat poised as if it might swell during climax, locking them together.

The thought of him inside her, those ridges dragging against her inner walls, that knot catching at the very end—it made her burn with fresh, impossibleneed.

Her breath hitched, and her thighs clenched involuntarily. She should have looked away, should have felt fear or shame or anything that might drag her back to reason. But she couldn’t. Her gaze remained locked on him, heart thudding wildly as something deep and dangerous unfurled inside her, whispering yes. Yes, to him. Yes, to this. Yes, to everything he would do toher.

“I am going to take you now,” he said, voice guttural. He lined himself up behind her. “You want this. Tell me you do.”

God help her, she did. “Please. Yes, please.”

He gripped her hips. Pulled her back against him. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, hot and unrelenting. Her hands braced tighter on the wall. Her body arched instinctively, ready.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. His hand snaked around to her front, fingers rubbing her clit again as he leaned in and growled in herear.

“I want you to remember this. Every sound. Every stroke. The way your body begs for mine.”

She moaned his name, and then he pushed into her—slowly, deliberately, letting her feel every inch of him. The vibrating mounds along his cock pulsated against her inner walls, lighting up nerves she didn’t know existed. Her body clenched around him, the fit almost too much, too deep, too intense.

But she didn’t want it tostop.

He started to move, setting a rhythm that had her writhing, grinding deep with each thrust. The knot at the base of him swelled slightly, pressing against her with each motion. He kept one hand on her hip and the other on her breast, holding her steady while the bond flared between them like wildfire.

She lost track of everything—time, space, the fact that they were still prisoners in a sterile cell. There was only him. The brutal perfection of him. The way he made her feel like her body belonged to him, as if the only thing that mattered was his pleasure wrapped inhers.

When she came, it was like falling through fire and stars—afull-body collapse that broke her into pieces and rebuilt her in his hands. Her voice fractured around his name, panting, ragged. He thrust deep one final time, burying himself fully, and groaned against her neck as his body locked insidehers.

For a moment, time stopped. She felt everything—the throb of his knot, the heat of his breath against her skin, the brutal, consuming rightness of him. Her eyes burned as her body clenched around him, not just from pleasure but from something deeper, more dangerous. She didn’t want him to ever pullaway.

She felt him swell, impossibly thick, the knot at the base of his cock pressing forward and locking them together with a low, pulsing stretch that made hergasp.

She should have panicked. Should have questioned it. But the moment he spilled inside her, the golden-brown mounds along his shaft released something electric. Her body flushed with warmth, her muscles softening, her thoughts floating. Pleasure deepened into a dreamlike, euphoria. Asoft moan escaped her lips, helpless and wrecked.

“What—” she whispered. “What is that?”

His mouth grazed her ear, voice low and steady. “The ridges secrete a bonding compound. Temporary. Harmless. It causes euphoria and allows your cunt to expand enough to take my knot.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Definitely euphoria,” she murmured.

“You are safe,” he said. “I will not release until the knot retracts. You must remain still.”

She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want the feeling to fade. Being filled like this, locked to him, flooded with whatever he gave her—it was too good, too deep. It wasn’t just physical. It was everything. Her mind, her body, her soul... all tethered tohim.

They stayed pressed together for what could have been hours, her body twitching with aftershocks, her breath syncing with his. When he finally slipped free, the knot easing back, she felt the loss like a sudden drop, an emptiness that left her aching.

And God help her, she almost asked him to do it again.

He reached down and lifted her into his arms. Carried her to the mattress and curled around her from behind. She felt the steady beat of his heart against her spine. Warm.Real.

She didn’t mean to close her eyes. Just to rest them. But the crash was inevitable. Not just from exhaustion—but from the overwhelming swirl of sensation and emotion that left her hollowed out and full all at once. It wasn’t peace exactly, but it was a stillness she hadn’t known she needed. Vulnerable. Dazed. Raw. And somehow, despite everything, safe. The bond had taken all of her—and given her evenmore.

She drifted.

Her body still hummed with the lingering effects of the bond, of him. Her skin felt overly sensitive, every brush of the sheet a whisper against nerves stretched too thin. She lay there, cocooned in the heat of his body, her back pressed to his chest, his arm a heavy, possessive line across her waist. Every breath he took rumbled softly behind her like distant thunder.

“I have never done this before,” he said quietly against her shoulder, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through her. “Not like this.”

She swallowed, throat tight. “You mean... the knot?”

There was a beat of silence. “No. The staying. The holding. The wanting after.”

Anya blinked, emotion rising unbidden and sharp. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Just reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, pulling his arm tighter around her. Her breath caught when he squeezed gently.

“Does it always feel like that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he said. “Only with you.”

She closed her eyes and let that truth settle into her bones.

Time passed.

She didn’t know howlong.

When the speaker crackled overhead, it felt like a blade cutting throughsilk.

“Fascinating,” came the disembodied voice, calm and clinical. “Though rest assured, Igranted you privacy. My monitors tracked biometric responsesonly.”

Tor’Vek went still. Every muscle in his body lockeddown.

Anya stirred against him, still dazed and warm, her heart skipping as reality returned and Selyr’s voice slowly penetrated. Tor’Vek tensed behindher.

Selyr’s voice echoed from the speaker again, almost bored. “The craving protocol appears to have failed. Your responses were not aligned with the programmed outcome.Still, your reaction time was... notable. Far faster than projected. Curious. Very curious.”

The voice slithered through the room like poison.Anya gasped, her arms flying up to cover her chest, heart pounding.

Tor’Vek shifted on the mattress, rising just enough to shield her with his body. His eyes blazed as he stared toward the sound of the voice, heat radiating from him like a warning. He didn’t tremble. He didn’t speak. But his hands curled into fists where they rested on the mattress, the tension in his frame sizzling like a storm barely heldback.

Then, wordless, he grabbed his shirt from where it had fallen near the bed and tossed it to her without looking. Protective. Instinctive. She caught it with trembling hands and pulled it over her head, his scent wrapping around her like armor.

Amusement dripped from Selyr’s voice, static echoing from a speaker embedded in the wall. “Truly fascinating. The bracelets have evolved faster than I anticipated.Your reaction time,” he continued, “has surpassed my predictions. And you, human female—you responded remarkably well. Do you know what that means?”

Neither of them answered.

Anya couldn’t. Her throat closed around the words, fury and fear and disgust colliding in her chest. She didn’t trust her voice not to shake, didn’t trust herself not to scream. Tor’Vek didn’t move, didn’t blink, his silence louder than any threat. Their defiance wasn’t spoken—but it filled the room just thesame.

“It means you’re ready for the next test.”

There was a hiss as the outer door disengaged and heavy footsteps approached.

Tor’Vek shifted in one smooth, silent motion, blocking them, muscles tensed with leashed fury. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. And that alone made her breath catch. It wasn’t shock or fear that held him still in front of her—it was restraint. Aterrifying, deliberate choice. Apredator holding himself back by sheer force of will. He was containing the storm inside him with a control so absolute it scared her more than if he’d lashed out. Because if he let go, even for a second, she knew he would burn everything in this room to keepher.

He stood between her and the door, rage vibrating off his skin like a low-grade explosion.

He would not survive being parted fromher.

And she... didn’t want to be parted from him either. As if in response, Selyr’s voice hummed through the air again, almost as an afterthought. “We’ll separate you for now, of course. The bond needs to be tested under strain.”

Her stomach twisted. There it was. The threat. The test. The separation she already knew she couldn’tbear.

Not after what had happened betweenthem.

Not after knowing how it felt to be wanted likethat.

She reached for his hand instinctively.

The cold metallic floor vibrated beneath her as the guards approached, their black boots striking in ominous rhythm. The guards stepped into the room. Tor’Vek moved, positioning his body to shield hers more fully, his every breath sharp with strain. Anya froze, every nerve sparking like static.

One guard scanned the room while another approached with careful, deliberate steps, hand resting near a restraint device that blinked with a sickly blue light. The sight of it made her breath catch. She could feel the bond stretching, quivering between her and Tor’Vek like a wire drawn too tight. Her heartbeat echoed in herears.

They weren’t just here for data. They were here to divide. To tear. Their boots hit the floor with brutal finality, each step too loud, too deliberate, echoing through the chamber like a countdown. She didn’t recognize the armor—black, segmented, faceless—but she recognized the threat. The way they moved, the readiness in their posture, the small, silent weapons tucked at theirhips.

The neural restraint glowed, pulsing softly like the bracelet, but colder. Crueler. Her pulse spiked. The air suddenly felt thinner, tighter. She pressed closer to Tor’Vek without thinking, her breath caught in her throat. Every instinct screamed: They are here to take him fromyou.

And the bond began to scream.

Not just in the bracelet.

In her chest. In her skin. In something deeper and older than language. Every inch of her rebelled at the thought of being separated fromhim.

She didn’t know if it was the bond or hersoul.

But something inside her begged the universe:

Do not take him fromme.