Chapter 140 - Drayen Found His Mate
Chapter 140 - Drayen Found His Mate
Chapter 38 - Drayen Found His Mate
Drayen Stormclaw POV
“MATE. MATE. MATE. MAAAAATE! GET UP! MOVE! NOW!”
My head snapped around so fast Rowan flinched.
“What the fuck...Drayen?” he choked. “Dude, what...”
But I was already standing. Then she turned.
Pale shimmering skin. Long silky pink hair. A gorgeous mouth. Fucking ADORABLE pointed ears. And eyes, violet midnight and starlight and trouble.
She looked right at me. When she bit her lip....I swear to all the gods, my heart fell through the floor.
Granalf HOWLED. “GO TO HER. CLAIM HER. BITE HER. TASTE HER...”
“I KNOW, YOU FREAK,” I hissed internally.
My body moved without permission. Stalked. Hunted. I didn’t hear the music. Didn’t hear Rowan cussing. Didn’t hear Eryk saying, “Oh hell, he’s gone.”
All I heard was her heartbeat.
She stood up, slowly, like she wasn’t sure she should, and the moment she rose to her full height the mate bond punched the air out of my lungs.
Holy shit. She was perfect. Her curves were designed specifically to kill me dead right here.
I stopped inches from her. ZERO concept of personal space. Her breath hitched. I inhaled her. Hard.
Oh gods. I shuddered.
A low, guttural sound rumbled out of my chest before I could stop it. Her scent hit again, hotter this time, thick with dragonfire and adrenaline and something sweet just for me.
I leaned in. Closer. Closer. I pressed my nose to her neck. She gasped, soft and sinful.
Granalf lost his fucking mind. “LICK HER.”
I did. Slowly. Up the curve of her throat. My tongue meeting skin like I’d been starving for it.
She whimpered. I swear lightning shot through my spine.
Her sister squealed, “OH MY GOD,” somewhere behind her.
Did I care? Nope. I growled against her skin, open-mouthed now, right over the pulse hammering in her throat.
Then I nudged aside the strap of her dress and bit down lightly, but possessively, right where the mark would go.
Her knees buckled. I caught her easily and whispered, my voice rough:
“This is where I’ll mark you as mine, my little mate.”
She groaned. Groaned. The room exploded.
Rowan yelled, “LET’S GOOOOOO DRAYEN FOUND HIS MATE!”
Finnian whooped. Kaelen pounded the table. Theo clapped politely because he wasn’t good with volume but still supportive as hell.
Phones came out everywhere. Flashes. Cheers. Whistles.
"I'm Gisella.." she whispered. Gods, her name tasted good, then she went scarlet. Adorable. Granalf whimpered.
Her sister shrieked behind her, “GO WITH HIM, GIS! GO!”
Gisella nodded. Just one tiny, shy nod. And I lost the last functioning brain cell I had.
I grinned, feral, wide, and unhinged, and scooped her straight off her feet, bridal-style, hauling her against my chest.
The Cellar ERUPTED.
Students pounding tables. Someone howling. Rowan shouting, “SOMEONE TELL AZARA SHE OWE ME FIFTY COINS I SAID HE’D MEET HIS MATE BEFORE GRADUATION!!”
I threw my head back and roared,
“No one bother me tonight! I’ve found my mate....and isn’t she delicious!?”
Screams. Cheers. Every phone recording. Gisella buried her face in my neck like she couldn’t handle it.
Granalf preened. “GOOD. SHE HIDES IN US. SHE FEELS SAFE.”
I carried her out of the Cellar like the gods themselves had delivered her into my arms. Drunk, happy, and stupidly in love already.
She peeked up at me once, her eyes wide.
I kissed her forehead gently.
“Mine,” I murmured.
She shivered.
The students parted in a frenzy, clearing a path, hooting and chanting as I stalked through the academy halls with my mate in my arms.
Every light flickered. Every hair on my body stood on edge. The bond thrummed like wildfire.
By the time I reached the ridiculous oversized suite I shared with Rowan, Finnian, and Eryk....
My hands were shaking from holding HER and not marking her instantly.
I kicked the door open.
I set her down, steady, but barely.
She looked up at me like she couldn’t decide whether to run, faint, or devour me.
I locked the door behind us.
_________________________________
Gisella POV
The door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the roar of the Cellar and leaving only the frantic thunder of my pulse and the low, predatory rumble vibrating from his chest.
He set me down with reverent care, yet his hands lingered, they were large, rough, and trembling with restraint. They curled possessively around my waist. The suite smelled of storm-lashed pine, whiskey, and raw, undisguised hunger.
I stepped back at once. If I did not put distance between us, I would burn alive.
“I should introduce myself properly,” I declared, lifting my chin against the quiver in my voice. “Gisella Drakaryn. I'm 19. Cocktail waitress. Bottom-tier dragon bloodline. No clan, no dowry, and no prospects. Poor as cinders. Essentially, I am nothing.”
He snorted, an incredulous, rough sound that sliced my words in half.
“You’re not nothing.” His voice rolled like smoke over gravel, and his eyes blazed molten gold. “You’re fucking mine.”
The claim struck deeper than the bond had downstairs. Heat flooded my face, and my breasts, pooling low and treacherous between my thighs.
I bristled, because yielding had never been my way.
“Excuse me? I did not ask to be claimed. I was having a perfectly pleasant night with my sister until you stalked over and licked me in front of the entire academy.”
A slow, wicked grin curved his mouth. “You loved every second.”
“I most certainly did not...”
“You whimpered, little dragon. Right here.” He touched the hollow beneath his jaw where he had tasted me, and the memory alone nearly buckled my knees again.
“That was instinct,” I snapped. “Not consent.”
“Instinct is consent,” he growled, closing the distance until his heat scorched me. “Every inch of you is begging for me.”
“Every inch of you is insufferably arrogant,” I fired back. “You didn’t even know my name.”
“I know you’re mine.” He caged me against the wall, his palms slamming flat on either side of my head. “I know your scent just shattered my entire world. I know the moment I tasted your skin I nearly came in my jeans like an untried boy.”
My breath caught. “You’re deranged.”
“Utterly,” he agreed, his voice dropping to a lethal purr. “Now stop arguing before I lose the last shred of control I possess.”
“Make me.”
The challenge fled my lips before sense could stop it.
Gold flashed in his eyes, pure, delighted wolf. A snarl ripped from his throat, and then his mouth crashed over mine, devouring my gasp.
The kiss was brutal: teeth, tongue, and the sharp graze of fangs drawing a bead of blood from my lip.
I bit him back, hard.
He groaned into my mouth, his hands dropping to grip my hips with bruising force. One broad palm slid lower, cupped my ass, and then...crack...a sharp, possessive spank jolted me against him.
“Behave,” he snarled against my lips.
“Never,” I breathed.
He spanked me again, harder, the crack echoing through the room. Liquid heat arrowed straight to my core.
“Come to bed, little mate,” he rasped, his voice ragged with need. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m going to fuck every ounce of sass out of that pretty mouth.”
A broken groan tore from my throat.
That was all the surrender he required.
He lifted me as though I weighed nothing, his mouth claiming mine again while he carried me to the bed and flung me down. My dress rode high on my thighs; he knelt between them and ripped the straps from my shoulders with impatient hands.
His gaze fell to my bared breasts and he froze...reverent, ravenous, and undone.
“Perfect,” he whispered hoarsely. “So fucking perfect.”
Then his mouth descended, hot and wet and merciless, sucking one nipple deep while his fingers tormented the other. I arched off the mattress with a cry, my fingers twisting in his hair as he feasted, his teeth scraping, his tongue soothing, until I writhed helplessly beneath him.
He reared back only long enough to strip. Shirt torn away. Belt. Jeans shoved down, and gods preserve me.
His cock was enormous: thick and heavy, and the flushed crown was pierced with a gleaming silver barbell beneath the ridge. My mouth went dry.
He caught my stare and smirked, stroking himself once. “Like what you see, little mate?”
I could not speak. I could only watch as he prowled back over me, spreading my thighs wide.
He drove into me in one savage thrust.
I screamed, pleasure and pain and overwhelming fullness, as he stretched me open, the piercing dragging fire along every sensitive inch. He gave me no quarter; he fucked me hard, his hips snapping, and the bedframe hammering the wall in a punishing rhythm.
Each thrust stole my breath, and scattered my thoughts. There was only him, his growls, his bruising grip, the wet slap of skin, and the way he bent to suck dark bruises across my breasts while he rutted into me like a beast.
Another stinging spank. Then another. I sobbed his name.
He flipped me without warning, face-down, my knees dragged beneath me, my ass high, and slammed back in from behind. One fist tangled in my hair, arching my spine; the other hand rained fire across my skin until I trembled, begging, utterly shattered.
He blanketed my back, his chest heaving against my spine, mouth at my ear.
“Now, little dragon,” he snarled, his voice raw. “Take my mark.”
His fangs sank deep into the curve of my neck and shoulder.
The bond detonated.
White-hot ecstasy exploded through every nerve, ripping a scream from my throat as I came in endless, clenching waves around him. He roared against my skin, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside me, pulse after thick pulse, and the piercing making every throb exquisite torture.
Still buried deep, and still pulsing, he withdrew his fangs and turned my head gently toward him. Blood streaked his lips; and his eyes glowed feral gold.
“Your turn,” he commanded, offering the strong column of his throat.
I lunged, my teeth sinking into the muscle where neck met shoulder. The taste of him, storm and salt and mate, flooded my mouth as I marked him forever. He shuddered violently, a second climax tearing through him, flooding me again as the bond flared brighter than dragonfire.
We collapsed sideways, still joined, trembling violently in the wreckage of the bed.
His arms locked around me, pulling me flush to his chest. His tongue lapped tenderly at my fresh mating mark, soothing the ache.
“Mine,” he whispered, his voice wrecked and reverent.
I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, pine and storm and eternity.
“Yours,” I murmured against his skin.
And for the first time, being utterly, irrevocably claimed did not feel like chains.
It felt like wings.