Chapter 17 The Room of Petals and Thorns
Chapter Seventeen
A Room of Petals and Thorns
AVRIELLE'S POV
"You’re joking, right?"
The word mate felt like a trumpet ringing, a sound that kept echoing and distorting inside my skull until it was the only thing I could hear. I instinctively stepped back, my heels clicking sharply against the stone of the balcony as I widened the gap between us. My mind was spiraling, grasping at the frayed edges of my reality.
A mate.
For twenty-five years, I had waited for that word. For twenty-five years, I had prayed to the Moon Goddess to show me the one person who was supposed to be the half of my soul. In our world, an omega’s last hope for a wolf—for dignity—was to find their mate and be marked at a young age. That bond, that primal connection, was the only thing that could have sparked the dormant spirit within me.
I shook my head, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"You’re lying. You have to be lying."
Xavier’s eyes were dark, swirling with that terrifying gold, but his voice was steady.
"Have I ever lied to you, Avrielle? Could I ever lie about this?"
"Then why?" I yelled, the sound tearing from my throat. I didn't care who heard us anymore. The dam had broken, and five years of silent suffering were pouring out.
"Why now? Why did you never show up once? Do you have any idea what I had to endure because you weren't there? The pain, the humiliation of being married to another woman's mate, the hollow feeling of being a wolfless freak! You were my Alpha, you saw me every day, and you let me suffer! You ruined my chance at everything!"
Hot, angry tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring the image of him. I was shaking with a rage so ancient I didn't know I possessed it. I had been a ghost in my own life, and he had been the one holding the key to the cage the entire time.
"I'm sorry," Xavier muttered.
The words were quiet, almost drowned out by the distant music of the party, but they hit me with the force of an avalanche. It was likely the first time the Devil of the North had ever apologized to anyone, but I didn't care about his pride.
I just wanted to hurt him the way I had been hurt.
He took a step toward me, his hand reaching out to wipe a tear from my jaw, but I flinched away.
"Don’t!" I snapped, my voice trembling. "Stay away from me. Just stay away."
He stopped mid-motion, his jaw tightening as he gave a slow, pained nod.
Just then, a young maid walked onto the balcony, her head bowed respectfully.
"Alpha, Mistress... your room is ready. If you would please follow me."
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to pull the remnants of my shattered dignity together. Without a second thought, I followed the girl, desperate to get away from the prying eyes of the ballroom.
I could feel Xavier behind me, his presence a heavy, electric weight that made the hair on my arms stand up.
The woman stopped in front of a heavy oak door and gestured inside.
"This will be where you are staying for the duration of the ceremony. We hope it is to your liking."
I swallowed hard as she walked away.
A room?
A single, solitary room?
My heart hammered against my ribs. I was furious with him—I hated him in this moment—but the full moon was reaching its peak. My body was already screaming for him, a craving so deep it felt like it was written in my DNA.
How were we supposed to survive a night trapped in four walls together when our scents were already clashing like a thunderstorm?
Before I could even think of a protest, the maid was long gone.
Xavier didn't wait; he stepped into the room, and I followed him because I had nowhere else to go.
I froze the moment I crossed the threshold.
The room was a nightmare of romantic clichés. It had been decorated as a honeymoon suite—red rose petals were scattered across the massive bed in the shape of a heart, scented candles flickered on every surface, and the dim, warm lighting was designed for anything but a cold shoulder.
Xavier let out a low, guttural growl. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated frustration.
He walked toward the bed and, with one violent swipe of his hand, dusted the flowers onto the floor. His scent was getting stronger—richer, darker, filling every corner of the room until I felt lightheaded.
I turned to look at him, and my breath hitched.
His eyes were flickering rapidly, the brown and the gold fighting for dominance as he struggled to keep his wolf from taking control.
He let out a sharp, ragged sigh and wouldn't look at me.
"I'm going to take a bath," he said, his voice sounding like it was being forced through a closed throat.
Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
I stood in the center of the room, my hands shaking.
I needed to move. I needed to do something, or I was going to lose my mind.
I began to move around the room frantically, blowing out the candles and gathering the rest of the petals. I needed to strip this place of its "romance" and turn it back into a fortress.
If I was going to survive the night with my mate, I had to pretend the bond didn't exist.
Even if every fiber of my being was begging me to open that bathroom door.
XAVIER'S POV
The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, the thread holding my composure snapped.
I tore at my clothes, the expensive fabric feeling like sandpaper against my feverish skin. I leaned over the sink, my breath coming in ragged, guttural hitches that didn't sound human. My hands roamed wildly over my chest and arms, almost as if I were trying to peel my own skin off to let the heat escape. I shoved my fingers through my hair, pulling hard enough to sting, but the pain was a drop of water in an ocean of fire.
I wrenched the cold water tap to the limit. I expected a shock, a reprieve. Instead, the icy spray felt like scalding steam against my overheated system. My senses were screaming.
'Go to her', Thorne growled in the back of my mind, his voice a deafening roar that vibrated in my skull.
'She is there. Behind that thin piece of wood. She is ours. She is crying for us. Can’t you smell it? Her scent is ripening, Xavier. Take her. Mark her. Claim what has been yours for five years!'
"Shut up," I hissed at the empty room, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of the marble vanity.
'Coward', my wolf spat. 'You let her suffer for five years to "protect" her, and now you stay in here while she burns? She is your mate. She wants this as much as we do. Break the door. Push her into those petals. Make her scream our name until the moon sets.'
The mental image nearly sent me to my knees. The memory of her pained, shattered look on the balcony played on a loop in my head. She hated me. She had every right to. I had been a ghost, a silent guardian who had allowed her to walk through hell because I thought it wasn't my time to interfere. It was a grave mistake—a calculation made by a man that was now being punished by the beast. I had been so preoccupied with the pack, so blinded by the sheer sight of her in my manor, that I had completely forgotten the lunar cycle.
'She is so soft... so warm...' Thorne whispered, his hunger clawing at my gut. '...I want to feel her heart racing against our chest. I want to taste the salt of those tears and turn them into moans.'
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing scream sliced through the sound of the running water.
I didn't think nor did I breathe. My body acted on pure instinct. I burst out of the bathroom, water dripping from my sodden trousers, my bare chest heaving. I was across the room in a blur of motion before the scream had even finished echoing.
Avrielle was standing by the bedside table, clutching her hand to her chest. A knocked-over candle lay on the floor, the wick still glowing. She had burnt herself trying to clear the "romance" I had so violently rejected.
Rage and protectiveness surged through me in equal measure. I slammed my hand down on the table with a thunderous crack, the sheer force of the air from the blow extinguishing every remaining candle in the room instantly. Darkness swirled around us, save for the pale moonlight.
I snatched her hand, my movements frantic. "Avrielle," I breathed, my voice a wrecked shadow of itself. I brought her small, reddened hand to my lips, blowing cool air over the burn with a tenderness that felt at odds with the storm in my blood.
For a second, the world narrowed down to the sensation of her skin against mine. I looked up, intent on checking her face, but I made the mistake of meeting her eyes. She was staring at me with a look of such raw, unfiltered longing that I felt my soul shudder. I immediately jerked my gaze away, staring at the floor, my heart hammering like a war drum. If I didn't look away, I was going to lose everything—my composure, my sanity, and the little bit of trust she had left in me.
I felt a soft, tentative finger touch the center of my chest.
I froze. The finger cascaded down my torso, trailing over my damp skin in a slow, agonizingly light path. The heat in my system tripled. My vision swam with gold. I caught her hand halfway down, my grip probably too tight, but I was desperate.
"Stop," I rasped, my eyes squeezed shut. "Avrielle, stop. I am hanging on by a thread. Do not play with fire... you will get burnt far worse than a candle sting."
"What if I want to play with fire?" she whispered.
Her scent was a physical weight now, a sweet, heady perfume that filled my lungs until I couldn't remember my own name. I could feel her body temperature rising, mirroring my own. The air between us was electric, vibrating with the pull of the moon and the bond.
I couldn't do this. I turned to leave, to bolt back into the bathroom and lock the door, but before I could take a single step, she grabbed the front of my wet trousers and pulled me back, her mouth crashing onto mine.
I went rigid. My brain short-circuited as her soft lips pressed against mine with a desperate, uncoordinated hunger. She broke the kiss just an inch, her breath hot against my mouth.
"Take me, Xavier," she whispered, her voice a plea that shattered my last bit of resistance. "I want you. I really, really crave you. I promise... this time, I won't regret it."
Thorne let out a triumphant howl that drowned out every logical thought I had ever possessed.
Before she could even finish the sentence, my hands were on her. I grabbed her waist and slammed her back against the wall with a force that made the pictures rattle. Her hands were pinned above her head in an instant, held there by one of mine, while my other hand moved with a predator’s urgency, grasping her breast through the silk of her gown.
I slammed my lips on hers not with a gentle question, but a brutal, possessive answer. I devoured her, my tongue claiming her mouth as the Alpha in me finally, finally took what was his.