Chapter 39 The Jealous Side of Him
Aurelia
“Who is he to you?” Zhayad growled the moment we arrived at the pack-house.
He spun me around as soon as we entered the bedroom, and my back hit the bedroom wall with a soft thud, my breath knocked out of me in a startled gasp.
His massive arms, thick, corded, like a polar bear’s, caged me in on either side of my head.
The door slammed shut behind us, the sound echoing loudly around us. I felt small beneath him. Trapped.
Like prey caught in the claws of something far larger, far hungrier.
“Who?” The word squeaked out of my throat, high, breathless.
My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was sure he could feel it through the thin fabric of my tunic.
“The blondie in the footage. Who the fuck is he?”
His voice was gravel and fury. He wrapped one huge hand around my throat, not choking, just holding, his thumb pressing lightly against my racing pulse.
His knee shoved between my thighs, parting them with ruthless insistence, forcing me up onto my toes.
The sudden pressure against my core made me whimper.
“No one,” I whispered, trembling as his other hand slid between us and cupped my breast, his thumb brushing over the already-peaked nipple through my dress.
The tattoo-like marks lit up instantly, causing my nipples to turn almost translucent.
“No one?” He leaned in, his hot breath fanning the shell of my ear. “So why did your eyes linger on him like you recognized every inch of his face? Why did the bond spike with something that felt like memory when you saw him?”
I swallowed, and his palm flexed around my throat in warning.The squeeze wasn’t painful. It was intimate, and terrifying at the same time.
“He’s the man my father wanted me to end up with,” I answered quickly, my voice cracking as Zhayad pinched my nipple hard enough to make it pebble instantly between his thumb and forefinger.
The sharp sting shot straight to my clit, and I clenched around nothing, my thighs trembling.
Zhayad's eyes flashed with pure, unrestrained violence, his fangs lengthening until they grazed his lower lip.
“Did you ever let him touch you?” He thundered the question, and I shivered, craving his touch, craving his body.
I shook my head frantically, tears of overstimulation already gathering at the corners of my eyes.
“No,” I whispered, my voice shaking as the memory I thought I'd forgotten clawed its way up. “But he touched me once… against my wish.”
Zhayad went predator-still. His hand flexed around my throat gently but holding me in place while I forced the rest out.
“He palmed my breasts, smacked my ass and tried to lift my dress right there in the corridor when no one was looking.”
My breath hitched as I remembered how sick I'd felt back then when I was just barely sixteen.
“I shoved him off and ran. I told my father everything.”
Zhayad’s thumb stroked my racing pulse, but his eyes had gone black with murder.
“And?” he rasped.
“My father scolded me.” The words tasted like ash in my tongue. “He told me I should’ve let Mace have what he wanted. That refusing him was childish and ungrateful.”
Zhayad’s jaw locked so hard I heard the grind of teeth.
His other hand slid down my body, cupping my breast again, kneading and squeezing.
“When I see him,” he said against my lips, his words already dripping with the promise of what he wanted to do to Mace. “I’ll tear him from neck to stomach..I’ll rip his fucking heart out and make him watch while I feed it to the crows.”
Then his mouth crashed down on mine. This wasn’t a kiss. It was ownership. He devoured me, his lips bruising, his tongue plunging deep, claiming every corner of my mouth like he was erasing every memory of another man’s hands.
He tasted like danger, everything I'd ever been warned about, to stay away from.
I kissed him back, desperate and hungry for all of him, moaning when he tilted my head back farther, exposing my throat so he could bite down on the claiming mark and suck hard enough to bruise.
He growled into my mouth and slammed his hips forward, grinding the thick, iron-hard ridge of his cock against my soaked center through our clothes.
The friction was brutal, delicious; I cried out, my head thudding back against the wall.
He lifted me, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs, and wrapped my legs around his waist.
The new angle pressed him right where I ached the most.
“Zhayad, please take me right now,” I begged, my fingers digging into his shoulders like I could climb inside him. “I need you,right now.”
“Oh, Aurelia…” His voice came out rough, almost a growl. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
Then he moved. One brutal yank and my dress tore open, the soft fabric ripping like paper under his claws.
The silver mark exploded with light, blinding, wild, flooding the room in cold, shimmering radiance.
Every shadow vanished; the walls, the bed, the floor, everything glowed as if the moon goddess herself had poured inside.
The ruined gown pooled at my feet, and Zhayad froze.
His gaze dropped, and his pupils swallowed the green until only black remained.
I was not wearing an underwear. Not even a scrap.
His hands clamped onto my hips, and he dragged me up the wall until my thighs locked tighter around his waist.
“Naughty little thing,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust and menace. “No panties? In a room full of males?”
His fingers dug deeper, spreading me wider against him.
“Did you do this on purpose, hmm? Wanted them to smell how wet you were? Wanted them to lose control knowing they could never have you?”
He licked a broad stripe across his palm, then brought his hand down in a sharp, wet slap directly on my clit.
I gasped, pleasure-pain exploding through me like lightning.
“Answer me, Aurelia,” he growled, his thumb circling the throbbing bud of my clit.
“Did you do it on purpose?”
Another slap, this time to my breasts. They bounced, heavy and flushed.
“No—fuck—I didn’t,” I panted, my voice cracking.
He smirked and slid one thick finger inside me without warning.
I widened my thighs even more, trying to take him deeper.
“Oh?” He leaned in. “You didn’t?”
Then he bared his teeth, his fangs lengthening, the gleaming onyx glinting for a second, and captured my nipple between them.
The sharp points pierced just enough to sting, tiny beads of blood welling up, sending a white-hot jolt straight to my core.
I cried out, my hips bucking against his hand.
He sucked hard, his tongue flicking the pierced peak, then released it with a wet pop, his eyes locked on mine.
“Liar,” he whispered. “You walked into that room naked. You wanted them to know you’re soaked, know you’re aching, know you belong to someone who’ll fuck you raw the second we’re alone.”
He added a second finger, stretching me, curling them against that spot that made my vision blur.
“Admit it,” he growled, pumping slow and deep.
“Admit you did it for me.”
I shook my head, tears slipping down my cheeks, but my hips rolled shamelessly onto his hand.
“Y-yes,” I sobbed.“For you. Only for you.”
His smile was pure sin. “Good girl.”
Then he pulled his fingers free and lined himself up.