Chapter 194

[ 1,260 words ]

Emilia’s POV

“Maybe he’s swamped with work. Don’t overthink it.”Eve said in my mind.

“I know that. Logically, I know that.I’m just… disappointed.” I flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

Eve laughed, warm as sunlight in my chest. “You miss him this much, you should’ve just said yes when he asked you to come along.”

My face went hot. “No way. No way. That man’s insatiable. He’d have me pinned to the sheets half the day, and his work would fall apart

“Emilia, “Her voice turned sly. “Between fated mates, that kind of hunger is normal. Natural, even. You can’t fight biology forever.”

I groaned and pressed a pillow over my face. There was no winning an argument with her, especially not when she had a point.

Fine. If Sebastian wasn’t coming home tonight, I’d find something to keep myself busy.

I hauled myself off the bed and wandered to the media room. Sebastian had an impressive movie collection, though his taste leaned hard into horror. I’d always been curious, always too chicken to watch any of them alone. Tonight was as good a night as any to face my fears.

I scrolled the titles and landed on a Japanese film, The Slit-Mouthed Woman. The cover alone twisted my stomach, but I hit play anyway.

Big mistake.

I barely made it halfway before I had to stop. My hands shook as I fumbled for the remote and practically threw it at the screen to kill the picture. The woman in red, with her scissors and that horrible, horrible smile, was burned into the backs of my eyes.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope.” I grabbed the nearest blanket and hauled it over my head, like that would do anything at all.

“Really?” Eve said, unimpressed. “You faced down the darkness itself, but a movie scares you?”

“That was different! That was real! This is psychological torture!”

I couldn’t even open my eyes. Every time I tried, I pictured that long-haired woman standing in the corner, scissors gleaming.

I needed backup.

I grabbed my phone and called Sebastian, not caring how late it was.

He picked up on the second ring. “Missing me already?” His voice was warm and teasing, and I hated how much better it made me feel on the spot.

“I’m scared,” I blurted.

A pause. “Scared? Of what?”

“I watched a horror movie. A Japanese one. I can’t even open my eyes now.”

“Emilia.” He sounded like he was fighting hard not to laugh. “You’re a wolf. You have actual supernatural powers. And you’re scared of a movie?”

“Don’t mock me! It was terrifying!”

“All right, all right.” His voice softened. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. Maybe if you open your eyes, you’ll find someone who’ll surprise you.”

My heart skipped, but my brain was still stuck in horror mode. “That is not comforting! It’s the exact opposite! If you’re not coming home, just say so. Don’t make it worse!”

I hung up before he could answer, heart slamming.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.

I screamed.

“Emilia—”

I knew that voice. I yanked the blanket down and stared up at Sebastian, crouched beside me, green eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You—!” I threw myself at him, half laughing, half crying. “You absolute jerk! You scared me half to death!”

He caught me easy, his arms folding around me as I buried my face in his chest. His scent, mint and cedar, rolled over me, and my panic melted into something else. Relief. And want.

“Why do you always come back like this?” I mumbled into his shirt. “Sneaking in like some kind of ghost?”

“Last time was a last-minute call,” he said, voice low and rough. “This time I wanted to surprise you.”

I pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was all sharp lines and shadow in the dim light, his eyes burning with something that caught my breath.

“Well, congratulations,” I said. “You succeeded.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the air between us shifted.

“Sebastian—”

He kissed me. Not soft, not careful. Hungry, like he’d been holding back for days and finally snapped. His hands fisted in my hair, tilting my head back as his tongue slid against mine until I couldn’t think straight.

I kissed him back just as hard, fingers twisting into his shirt. Closer. I needed him closer.

He stood, pulling me up with him, and my legs wrapped around his waist on instinct as he carried me toward the couch.

“Bed,” I gasped against his lips. “Sebastian, the bed—”

“No.”

He laid me on the couch, his weight pressing me into the cushions as his hands went to my buttons. His mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing the mark he’d left there. Then he pulled me off in one smooth move, and we tumbled onto the carpet together.

“Right here,” he growled, low and possessive.

I should’ve argued. But the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, chased every rational thought out of my head.

He stripped my clothes off with an urgency that left me breathless. When his fingers slid between my thighs, I gasped, my hips bucking up into his touch. He stroked me slow, spreading the wetness, circling until my whole body was strung tight.

“You’re already soaked for me,” he murmured, dark with satisfaction. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Just do something about it,” I shot back, and he laughed, low and wicked.

He settled between my legs, the thick head of him pressing against me, and I reached down to guide him in.

The first thrust punched the breath out of my lungs. He filled me completely, stretching me right to the edge of too much, and it was exactly what I’d been aching for. He moved slow and deep, and I locked my legs around his waist and pulled him harder.

“Emilia,” he groaned, forehead dropping to mine. “You feel so good.”

I couldn’t get a word out. I could only hold on as he picked up the pace, every thrust driving me nearer the edge.

When I was trembling under him, right on the brink, he pulled out all at once and flipped me over.

“Hands and knees,” he ordered, rough.

I obeyed, face burning, and he lined up behind me. His hands closed hard on my hips, dragging me back as he drove in deeper this time, hitting a spot that tore a cry out of me. He set a punishing pace, one hand fisted in my hair, the other clamped on my waist tight.

“You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing the back of my neck. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped. “I’m yours.”

He slammed in harder, and I broke apart, clenching around him as pleasure crashed over me in waves.

He followed a few thrusts later. His grip locked down as he buried himself as deep as he could go, and I felt him pulse and spill inside me, hot, spurt after spurt, his guttural groan against my neck sending one more shiver through me. He kept grinding in slow even after, working deeper.

For a moment we stayed like that, breathing hard, still joined. Then he eased out and gathered me into his arms, carrying me toward the bathroom.

“You’re insane,” I mumbled against his chest.

He kissed the top of my head, voice rough with satisfaction. “Baby, remember. A man who’s been starving for days doesn’t hold back.”

I bit his shoulder in payback, and he laughed.

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