Chapter 245 Feel It. Take It
(Adelaide)
Every instinct she had ever owned told her to back away, to run, to put distance between herself and the towering creature now looming over her — teeth bared in the firelight, black eyes endless and unreadable.
Her body did the opposite. Heat pooled low, fierce and insistent. The pull sharpened, craving contact, the press of him—size, power, threat—exactly what she needed. Her heartbeat found the slow, heavy rhythm of his breath.
“You feel the bond,” he said quietly, voice deeper now, reverberating through her chest. “You feel it as desire. As hunger.”
She nodded, breath unsteady, fingers tightening in the silk she held to herself. “Isn’t it?”
For a fraction of a second, his black eyes softened, not diminishing the terror of him, but complicating it. A fissure in a wall of night.
“It’s more than that,” he said.
Adelaide didn’t hear the warning in his voice. She only felt the pull. And stepped closer anyway. She lifted her hand slowly. Not in challenge. Not in defiance. In want.
Her fingers brushed the dense fur at his chest, tentative at first, then sinking in as she drew a sharp breath. The hair was coarse, warm, alive beneath her touch. Heat radiated up her arm, a shiver that had nothing to do with fear. Her palm tingled as if she’d pressed it to a living brand.
Apollo’s breath hitched. She felt it through her fingers.
Her fingers skimmed his chest—and stalled. He was too tall. The realisation sliced through the haze of want, just long enough to register the sheer, impossible scale of him. Even pressed close, her reach barely grazed the base of his neck. To touch him where instinct pulled, she would have to stretch, strain, make herself tall.
The thought irritated her more than it should have.
She drew back half a step, just enough to look at him properly. Apollo towered over her, massive and immovable, his head angled downward as he watched her with that same dark, unreadable focus. From this angle, his chest rose like a wall. His horns curved far above her reach.
She didn’t hesitate. She turned and climbed onto the stone bench he’d left behind. The surface was warm, still shaped by his weight. The height shifted her balance, the heaviness between her shoulders tugging again, but she straightened, rising until she stood level with his chest. The bench hummed beneath her feet, as if it remembered him.
Better. Now, when she reached for him again, her fingers slid higher, threading through the thick fur along his sternum, then up the powerful column of his throat. She felt him tense beneath her touch, a deep shudder rippling through his frame that he did not try to hide.
Apollo’s breath stuttered. “You’re making this difficult,” he said quietly.
She smiled faintly, emboldened by the way his body betrayed him. “You were already difficult.”
Emboldened, she slid her hand higher, fingers threading through the thick mane at his chest, then up the column of his neck. The fur was softer here, darker, her fingertips vanishing as she stroked—slow, reverent, learning him by touch. Her breath slowed, deliberate, as if she might startle something sacred.
Her fingers found his jaw, tracing the hard line, feeling the vibration of a growl caged deep in his chest. She reached higher—and stopped. Still too far. Even now, she couldn’t reach his horns. For a heartbeat, she considered stretching, rising onto her toes.
Then she looked at him. “Lower,” she said softly.
It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even deliberate. It was a want spoken aloud.
Apollo went utterly still. The chamber seemed to hold its breath with him. His wings twitched once, sharp and restrained. For a long moment, he did nothing — towering, silent, every line of his body pulled tight as if resisting an internal force far stronger than her hands.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he bowed his head. Just enough.
The movement brought his horns within her reach, the curve of them dipping into her space like an offering. Adelaide’s breath caught as she lifted her hand again, fingertips brushing the smooth surface near the base. The contact sent a visible tremor through him, his shoulders tightening, claws scraping faintly against stone.
She traced the horn’s curve, reverent, thumb following the arc. Her hand slid down his neck, feeling heat and tension coil beneath her palm.
The air thickened, charged and trembling. Her heart pounded. She wanted no barriers. No distance. No reminders of what she had been.
The silk sheet slid from her shoulders, forgotten. She let it fall, freeing her other hand to explore—down his arm, over dense muscle and fur, until her fingers found the inked bond mark burned into his skin.
Apollo shuddered. A sharp, involuntary reaction, as if she’d struck a live wire.
His claws bit deeper into the stone. His head dipped lower without her asking this time, breath hot and uneven against her skin.
Bare now, elevated above him, she stepped forward, toe hanging over the edge of the bench.
Apollo’s gaze dropped—not possessive, not devouring—stunned. His wings flared, sharp and instinctive, before he forced them still. The restraint cost him. She saw it in the tension tearing through his shoulders, in the way his chest heaved.
Adelaide stepped fully into him, trusting he would not let her fall.
Bare skin met fur, heat, immovable strength. She pressed herself to his chest, closing the last of the distance, her body fitting to his as if it had always known its place. The contact stole her breath, sensation flooding her—warmth, pressure, the low hum of restrained power beneath her skin. Her heartbeat fluttered against his, moth to flame.
She tilted her head up, close enough now to feel his breath ghost across her face.
“I want to feel all of you,” she whispered.
Apollo growled low in his chest — not a threat, not a warning. A breaking point. And still, he did not touch her.
Not yet. But his head remained bowed to her height, his breath uneven, his control fraying visibly as her body pressed into his.
Anticipation coiled tighter, sharp and exquisite. Hell itself seemed to wait, breath held, to see which of them would break first.
Her breath came fast, shallow with want and something sharper beneath.
Adelaide lifted her chin, close enough for his breath to wash over her in hot, uneven waves. The heat between them had tightened, almost painfully, coiled so taut it might snap if either of them moved too suddenly.
“Take me,” she said. The words were not whispered. They were steady. Chosen.
Apollo’s entire body locked. For a heartbeat, nothing existed but the sound of his breath tearing in and out of his chest, the low vibration rolling through him as if a growl were being crushed back down into silence.
“No,” he said. The word landed hard.
Adelaide stiffened. “Why?”
His head lifted slightly, black eyes blazing as they fixed on her. “This form would hurt you.”
She scoffed softly, defiance flaring despite the tremor in her hands. “You think I don’t know what you are?” she demanded. “You think I don’t see you? Feel you? I’m not as fragile as you want to believe.”
The corner of his mouth pulled back, exposing the edge of sharp teeth. Not a smile.
“You’re wrong,” he said lowly.
Before she could answer, his hand came up to grip her throat.