Chapter 132 The Virgin Wolf
[Freya]
Cedric stood motionless, processing my words. His eyes had returned to their normal color, but the tension in his body remained. He walked to the window and stared out at the pre-dawn city, his back to me.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotions.
Finally, he turned. "I should hate you."
"Yes," I agreed softly.
"But I can still feel it." His hand moved to the mate mark on his chest. "The bond. It's still there, just... muted. Like an echo."
He took a step toward me, then another. "I don't understand this. Any rational person would throw you out right now."
"You still can."
Cedric shook his head slowly. "That's the thing about this bond. It doesn't care about rational. I'm furious with you, but I still..." He trailed off, struggling to find the words.
"I need something from you, Lana," he said finally, his voice gaining strength. "If we're going to try this—and I'm not saying we are—I need your word. No more lies. No more making decisions for both of us without talking to me. No more running away when things get hard."
I swallowed hard. "I can promise to try."
"Not good enough. I need your word."
"You have it," I said, meaning it more than any promise I'd made in centuries. "No more lies. No more unilateral decisions."
He studied me for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Then, cautiously, he reached out and touched my face.
The moment his skin met mine, I felt it—the bond flaring to life between us, stronger than before. By his sharp intake of breath, I knew he felt it too.
"I don't know if I can trust you yet," he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. "But I want to try."
I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes briefly. "That's more than I deserve."
"Yes," he agreed, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "It is."
Slowly, tentatively, I moved closer, resting my head against his shoulder. His arms came up around me, hesitant at first, then more secure.
"Can we start over?" I asked, my voice muffled against his shirt.
As we fell onto the silken sheets, I sensed a hesitation in him, a nervous energy beneath his eager touches. His breath hitched when I straddled him, my hands guiding his to my waist. His cheeks flushed deeper, and he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, "I've... never done this before."
The confession caught me off guard, a flicker of something tender piercing through my predatory haze. A virgin werewolf. Two centuries of lovers, and now this creature, untouched, offered himself to me. I leaned down, my lips brushing his ear. "Let me show you, then."
I took control, my movements deliberate as I pinned his wrists above his head, my body pressing against his. His eyes widened, pupils blown with a mix of awe and uncertainty, but he didn't resist. I kissed him deeply, tasting the wildness beneath his human facade, while my hands roamed lower, peeling away layers of fabric between us. His skin was warm, so unlike my own icy flesh, and each shudder beneath my touch fueled the hunger building inside me.
I moved with a slow, purposeful rhythm, guiding him into the dance of intimacy. His gasps filled the dark room, hands clutching at my hips as I rode him, my pace teasing at first, then relentless. The scent of his arousal, the rapid thrum of his heartbeat—it was intoxicating, more potent than any blood I'd tasted in years. I watched every flicker of emotion cross his face, from nervous anticipation to overwhelmed pleasure, his inexperience making each reaction raw and unguarded.
Sensing his growing confidence, I leaned down, pressing my chest against his, maintaining control as I shifted my rhythm to something deeper, more intense. His hesitation flickered briefly, but I guided him with a whispered encouragement, my hands framing his face, urging him to match my movements. His responses were clumsy at first, but earnest, his hands sliding up my back as he looked up at me with something akin to wonder. Then, as the heat between us built, he paused, his breath ragged, eyes locking with mine.
"Lana," he murmured, voice thick with emotion, "I've never felt anything like this. I... I think I'm falling for you. I don't understand it, but I want to be with you, to know every part of you. You've changed everything for me."
He paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I've waited my whole life for something that felt right. For someone who felt... important." His hand traced up my arm, hesitant. "I know this might sound childish, but..."
I watched him carefully, waiting as he gathered his thoughts.
"How many have there been, Lana?" he finally asked, then immediately looked somewhat embarrassed. "I'm sorry, that's probably juvenile. I just—I can't help feeling this... jealousy when I think about your past. About who might have had your attention before me."
The vulnerability in his admission, that innocent possessiveness mingled with self-awareness, was almost charming after centuries of existence.
"Does it matter?" I asked, watching his reaction carefully.
"To me, it does." His fingers tightened slightly against my skin.
"They were toys," I said simply, a cold smile playing on my lips. "Toys and food. Nothing more." I traced a finger along his jaw. "None of them were wolves. None of them made me feel... hungry like you do."
His eyes darkened, a mixture of desire and realization dawning in them. "You're dangerous, aren't you?" he whispered, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "I should be terrified of you."
"Are you?" I leaned closer, my breath against his lips. "Will you reject me then? Your mate? You only need to say the word..."
"Never," he growled, the word almost primal as his hands tightened at my waist. "I don't care how dangerous you are. I want this—I want you."
His words struck me like a physical blow, raw and unguarded, cutting through centuries of cynicism. For a moment, I couldn't respond, the weight of his confession clashing with the darkness within me. But the pull of our connection was undeniable. I captured his lips in a fierce kiss, my tongue delving into his mouth, tasting the wildness of him as our bodies pressed closer. His heat burned through me, a stark contrast to my cold, undead flesh, and every touch ignited something feral within.
I shifted above him, straddling his hips, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against my inner thigh through the thin barrier of fabric still between us. My hands slid down his chest, fingers digging into the taut muscles as I ground against him, eliciting a sharp gasp from his lips. I could feel his arousal throbbing beneath me, the heat of it searing through the layers, and it fueled the hunger building in my core. Slowly, deliberately, I reached down, tugging at the waistband of his briefs, freeing him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum as it pulsed under my gaze.