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“I will not.”
“Do it,” I hiss.
He sneers. “No.”
“I will kill you.” I speak slowly, deliberately, letting each word hang in the air like a thick, poisonous fog.
He tilts his head, a cocky smile twisting his lips. “How many times have you tried, love? Six, wasn’t it? You’ve stabbed me with your crude bone knife, bitten me, doused me in holy water, fashioned a garlic necklace to repel me, pressed a crucifix against my face, and shot me with silver arrows. Yet here I stand, still alive and unbroken.” He saunters towards me, his hand already reaching for the weapons on the sofa. “And after today’s little display, I’m taking away your playthings and burning them. The spell will last a fortnight. A mere fourteen days to spend with me. Is that too much to ask?”
“A second is too much,” I bite back, my mind torn between my desire for him and my loyalty to my pack. The bond between us pulses with an electric force, drawing me closer to him, but I fight against it with all my strength. My inner wolf growls, urging me to submit to the pull of my mate. I can feel her restlessness and the need to claim him almost overpowering me. “You don’t know who you are messing with. My dad will come for me, and he will tear you apart.”
“Don’t insult me. Rowan couldn’t even fetch a stick without getting distracted by a squirrel. I’m not worried about him tearing me apart, but I do appreciate the warning. It’s always good to be prepared for unexpected family reunions.”
The tension crackles between us as we glare at each other, neither willing to back down. We are so consumed by our conflict that we fail to notice Marcus opening the portal and departing, leaving us alone to our own devices. It is only when the portal closes with a thunderous whoosh that we break our stare and realize we are on our own.
“Do you see what you have done? Now Marcus has left, and I’m still trapped in your damn house.” I spin on my heel and storm up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest with each step.
It’s a battle against the pull of my mate, but I refuse to give in. I’m a warrior, damn it, and I will fight until my last breath. I make my way across the hallway, and instead of entering Xavier’s bedroom, I enter the room beside his because I will not sleep in his bed. I fling myself on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to go back to him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Xavier
Thetouchofillnessis foreign to me, and the afflictions that ravage mortals are but a distant memory. I am immune to the plagues that decimate entire cities and bring civilizations to their knees. The flu and the common cold are a whisper of a breeze that I can brush aside with ease. Even the harshest winters are no match for my unyielding constitution. But as Lyra storms out of the living room, I feel the beginnings of a headache forming—a dull throbbing in my temples that threatens to become unbearable. The pain is not physical but rather a manifestation of the turmoil that rages within me. My fingers instinctively go to my temples, trying to chase away the discomfort.
I have Lyra where I want her, trapped in my house, but her rebelliousness is not what I have bargained for. From the moment she woke when the sun rose this morning until I left to feed at sunset, she hurled insults, tried to break through the magical barrier at the door repeatedly, and even attempted to kill me several times.
Instead of spending the day in bed, twisted up in my red satin sheets, talking, laughing, and fucking, we were engaged in a fierce battle of wills, each determined to come out on top.
I yearn to drink from her veins to strengthen our bond as mates, but her stubbornness will not allow it.
I had no choice but to leave her when night fell to hunt for my sustenance. The daylight hours are my time to rest, to retreat into the darkness and silence that vampires thrive in. But Lyra’s antics kept me awake all day, sapping my energy, and I needed to replenish myself. I ventured out into the night and headed into the city. The city sprawled before me, its winding streets and dark alleys teeming with life and death. I felt the pull of my nature as I prowled through the shadows. I found a willing victim, a true devotee of the vampire mythology, eagerly offering himself up as a eager sacrifice to his morbid fantasies. The rush of life flooded into me as I sank my fangs into his neck, and I drank deeply, enjoying every drop. The strength surged back into me, my senses amplified, and I felt alive. But even as I indulged in my thirst, the memory of Lyra lingered in my mind. I understood that I had to return to her.
Now, I have returned; she has turned my sofa into an armory, and no surprise, attempted to end my immortal life yet again. Oh, the look on her face when I pretended the crucifix had burned me—it was priceless.
Then Marcus appeared, and once again, he proved to be a useless ally. The wry smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth made it abundantly clear that he enjoyed my predicament. He sided with Lyra, the bloody snake; he even told her how to effectively rid herself of me by pointing out the crude stake she has fashioned from my cherished antique dining room chairs.
She is certainly inventive.
Despite the aggravation she causes me, I find myself smirking in amusement. My little wolf is certainly not boring. I wonder how long she will keep fighting before she realizes the futility of it all. However, as much as I am entertained by her behavior, I know that there are deeper issues at play. How can I convince her of our bond if she continues to resist me? I need to break through her walls and make her see that we are meant to be together. Fate has decided it, and one cannot fight against it. She obscured her true feelings when she claimed to feel nothing between us. Our coming together was more than a mere orgasm; it was a moment that shook the earth and defined our destiny. Deep down, she feels it too; I am sure of it.
I am not going to stand for it. While my physical appetite has been quenched, I find that Lyra’s defiance and impudent nature have stirred another kind of hunger in me, one that sears like a branding iron on my soul. My cock throbs with an intense pulsating sensation that can only be alleviated by plunging deep into her tight little body. I will stop at nothing to possess her completely. If I can’t tame her with my words, I will do it with my hands, my mouth, and my cock. I will show her what it truly means to be consumed by me, leaving her begging for more with every touch and every thrust.
With determination in my step, I bound up the stairs two at a time. I storm into my bedroom, ready to show her the error of her ways, but the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.
The bed is empty.
She is not here.
A furious heat courses through me, my blood boiling like molten lava, but even as I rage, a part of me is already calculating my next move. I can hear her heartbeat echoing through the house, each thud like a dare. Her breaths are ragged, and I can smell her—a heady mixture of earthy moss and sweet wild berries that is uniquely hers.
I follow the scent to the guest bedroom, gritting my teeth. I will not allow her to take her place anywhere else but in my bed; that is where she belongs.
Pushing open the door, I find her there, lying on the bed. She is bathed in a soft, milky light that spills from the moon, but I am not here for the scenery. I fix my gaze on her, feeling the untamed hunger simmer inside me.
“This is not your room,” I growl, stepping closer. “You belong in my bed and nowhere else.”
She pushes herself up into a sitting position, her back ramrod straight with fury. Her blond hair tumbles down around her face in a wild cascade, framing her features with a golden halo. Her green eyes blaze with anger, their emerald hues sharp and severe. Lyra’s anger only serves to magnify her beauty and power.
