Chapter 295

Evaline:
The air between us grew heavy, the silence broken only by the sound of my own uneven breathing. My arms instinctively crossed over my chest, as though that thin barrier of fabric could hide the way my heart was pounding against my ribs.
The man before me – my mate, my Ethan – hadn’t said a word since slipping the hoodie off my shoulders, but I could feel him watching me, even in the darkness of the room. His presence wrapped around me like fire and shadows all at once, a mixture of danger and comfort that made my knees weak.
I licked my lips nervously, and that was when I noticed the taste still lingering on my tongue. Wine. Rich, heady, unmistakable. He had kissed me just moments ago, and now I knew for certain he wasn’t sober.
My pulse skipped. If he was drunk, was I? The world tilted faintly when I tried to step back, dizziness fluttering through my head. Something was wrong. My drink earlier – it must have been laced with something, because no matter how much I tried to steady myself, the room felt unbalanced. My instincts screamed that this wasn’t normal, but at the same time, the mate bond thrummed in my veins, drowning reason in its tide.
When I stumbled, his hands were there instantly, strong and sure, catching me by the waist before I could fall. My breath hitched. His touch was searing, and the sparks that ignited where his fingers met my skin left no doubt – this was real. This was my mate.
“Careful,” his voice rumbled low, husky, and strained. I shivered at the sound, clutching at his shirt for balance.
A small part of my brain noticed how different he was feeling. His body, his scent, his voice… he was different.
“I-sorry,” I whispered, though it came out more like a shaky exhale.
He didn’t let me go. Instead, he pulled me closer, his chest brushing mine, and even through the layers of fabric I felt his heat. My mind screamed at me to think, to question, to demand answers. But my body, my very soul, moved to the rhythm of something older and stronger than reason.
I tilted my head up, and his mouth was already there waiting. His lips claimed mine in a kiss that sent shivers down my spine. This one was hungry, desperate, as though he had been waiting for me his whole life.
And maybe he had.
The bond flared so intensely it nearly knocked me off my feet. I gasped into his mouth, trembling, while his hands slid up my arms and framed my face. He kissed me deeper, coaxing me to open up to him, and when I did, a small sound escaped me – half whimper, half surrender.
The taste of wine on his tongue mingled with something darker, something undeniably him, and I couldn’t pull away even if I tried. He devoured me like I was the only source of air, and my own hunger rose to meet his.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. His forehead rested against mine, and though I couldn’t see his face clearly, I could feel the heat of his gaze burning into me.
“You are mine,” he whispered, voice ragged and low. The words vibrated against my lips.
I should have been afraid. Instead, the claim settled deep into my chest, sparking warmth where there should have been fear. My throat was dry, but somehow, I managed a soft, “Yes.”
That single word seemed to snap the last of his restraint.
In one fluid motion, he bent and scooped me into his arms. I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me toward the bed. His steps were steady, deliberate, and every nerve in my body lit up in anticipation.
The mattress dipped as he laid me down gently, almost reverently, as though I were made of glass. For a moment, he just hovered over me, his breath hot against my cheek, his body a tense line of control barely held together.
I reached up blindly, fingers brushing along his jaw, finding smooth skin.
“Look at me,” I whispered without thinking.
A harsh breath escaped him, and though the darkness hid his features, I felt the weight of his eyes as he obeyed. The intensity there made my stomach flip. I had never been looked at like this before… like I was both a salvation and a storm.
Then his lips found the hollow of my throat, and I arched helplessly beneath him. His kisses trailed down, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of heat that made me forget the dizziness, the confusion, everything but him.
His hands moved with the same aching patience, tracing my sides, brushing over the thin fabric of my tank top. When his fingers slipped beneath the hem, brushing against bare skin, I shivered violently.
“Too fast?” he murmured against my collarbone, his muffled voice almost breaking with restraint. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs.net
I shook my head, words failing me. All I could do was tug at him, desperate to keep him close.
His answering groan vibrated against my skin, raw and unguarded. He kissed me again, slower this time, as though he was trying to savor every second. His tongue brushed mine, and the connection deepened until I thought I would melt into him completely.
Piece by piece, the world around us fell away – the cold outside, the shadows in the corners of the room, even the questions clawing at the back of my mind. All that remained was him. My mate.
The way he touched me was both careful and claiming. His hands worshipped every inch, yet his kisses grew hungrier, rougher, as though his control was unraveling with every heartbeat.
When he finally pulled back enough to whisper, “Tell me to stop, and I will,” my chest tightened painfully.
I swallowed hard, my voice trembling but certain as I said, “Don’t stop.”
And just like that, the last thread snapped.