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“I’m so close,” I pant against his lips.
“Me too; I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” he groans. “Let go, Lyra.”
His demand and his thumb brushing over my clit, has me shattering into a million pieces. I throw my head back and give in to the pleasure, my body shaking as Xavier continues to move inside me, prolonging my orgasm, until he finally releases himself, shouting out my name.
We cling to each other as we come down from our high. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and my overheated body makes the water around us feel colder than it actually is, but I don’t want to leave his embrace.
Is this love, or is it simply the undeniable bond of our fated connection that evokes such intense feelings within me?
Xavier dips his head, his lips brushing over mine. This kiss feels different, in the best way possible. It’s not like our previous ones, filled with raw passion and urgency. This time, there’s a softness, a tenderness, that wraps around me.
The wild clash of two animals trying to stake their claim is gone, replaced by a sweet exploration. Our lips move together, syncing perfectly, as if we’re discovering a whole new level of intimacy.
Maybe it doesn’t matter why I feel this way, as long as we can be together.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Xavier
“Canyoupleaserepeatwhat I taught you?” I glance down at Lyra, her head resting on my lap, while I absentmindedly stroke my fingers through her silky hair.
“To kill a vampire, you have to stake them through the heart or decapitate them and set them on fire. Daylight and silver only weaken them, and holy water, garlic, and crosses won’t do a damn thing,” she replies with a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
I mirror her grin, remembering the time she tried warding me off with holy water, garlic, and a cross. “Right. Now tell me, how would you go about killing a shapeshifter?”
I’ve spent the entire morning enlightening her about the supernatural beings that lurk in the shadows of Shadowbrook. I’m determined to erase all the false information the elders in her pack have instilled in her. It’s my duty to guide her and ensure she possesses the knowledge and skills to navigate this treacherous world.
“Shapeshifters can be killed with silver bullets or a silver blade, but I need to aim for the heart.” Her voice carries a note of confidence, a testament to her learning.
“Good. Now, enlighten me about witches, werewolves, and fae.”
“Witches are pretty much like regular humans, so you can kill them in the same way you would a human. Werewolves get weakened by wolfsbane and can be put down with a silver bullet or blade, fire, and decapitation. Fae, on the other hand, are a challenge. They boast supernatural abilities, and their weaknesses vary according to their species. Some fae can only be defeated by iron, while others are vulnerable to cold iron or silver.
Lyra’s grasp of the information pleases me, with each word solidifying her progress in embracing the truth.
Her hand rises, a delicate touch capturing me behind the neck, drawing my head down to meet her own. She presses a brief kiss against my lips. “Why do I need to know all of this right now? There are better things we could be doing.”
I smile against her lips, savoring the warmth and closeness. “It is vital that you understand the intricacies of these supernatural factions. Their inherent dislike and tendency for conflict make them prone to attacks. I want you to be prepared and to possess the tools necessary to safeguard yourself.” My thumb caresses her cheek as I hold her gaze, conveying my sincerity. “Knowledge is a potent weapon,” I add. “Comprehending their strengths and vulnerabilities grants you a distinct advantage. I refuse to allow you to be caught unawares amidst the dangers that dwell within this world.”
The serene atmosphere is abruptly disrupted by the resounding chime of the doorbell, an unwelcome intrusion.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
I adjust my posture, straightening up as Lyra rises to a sitting position. “No, I’m not.” With heightened senses, I remain motionless, attuned to the external world. Through my vampiric hearing, I discern the murmur of voices outside, confirming my suspicions. Trouble approaches, embodied in the form of four werewolves—Lyra’s brothers.
Deep down, I always knew that her family would eventually seek her out. However, the actuality of their arrival fills me with an overwhelming surge of rage. How dare they? Her own brothers had hired men to kill her, and now they have the audacity to show up at our doorstep, uninvited and unwelcome.
“It appears to be your brothers,” I sneer, my fangs descending with a sharp hiss and my eyes burning with an intense crimson glow.
Fucking werewolves—the epitome of everything I despise, my current companion excluded, of course.
Lyra, seemingly unfazed by the impending confrontation, pats my chest gently, her touch both comforting and grounding. “Put the fangs and the red, glowing eyes away, Count Draculicious, and let’s go see what they want. Please let me do the talking before you start ripping off body parts.”
Her unwavering courage never ceases to amaze me. She’s not afraid of anything, or at least she refuses to show it. I truly want to rip off some body parts, but I will refrain from doing so and allow her to take the lead.
Reluctantly, I rise to my feet with an annoyed sigh, leading her towards the door. It’s not because I fear her brothers entering our sanctuary; the protective barrier will keep them at bay. No, it’s because I will tear them apart, one by one, if they so much as look at her wrong and Lyra will be very much displeased if I do that.
A mixture of emotions pulses through my veins—fury, protectiveness, and a deep-seated worry for Lyra’s safety. There’s also a lingering internal dilemma that tugs at my emotions. I know Lyra has accepted our bond and the connection forged between us, yet she still holds a fierce loyalty towards her father. A part of me fears that her brothers will find a way to exploit that loyalty and convince her to go back to the pack and leave me behind. I can’t allow that to happen. But I also understand that I cannot control her decisions. I want her to choose me and to stand by my side willingly and without coercion. The thought of her leaving ignites a blaze of possessiveness and a desperate need to be chosen.
