Chapter 66 66
AESON'S POV
The need was a physical thing, a fever under my skin. I’d been fighting it all damn day, a low, relentless hum in my blood since the second I’d caught her scent yesterday. I’d dragged myself out of her apartment then, forcing my feet to move away and act all fine.
But the feeling came crashing down on me like a heavy weight today. I’d taken some cold showers today, water like ice needles, but it just made my skin feel too tight, like it was trying to contain something too big, too hot.
Now, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, back in my own quiet room, and it was worse. Tyson, was a restless, pacing beast in my head, all low growls and raw want.
‘Just go back,’ he kept pushing. ‘Her scent is there. It’ll settle the itch.’
“Damn it,” I muttered to the empty room, my voice rough.
My fist was clenched so tight my knuckles were white. Inside it, pressed hard into my palm, was the key to the house. A small, stupid piece of metal. She’d forgotten it last night. I’d found it gleaming on the floor after she’d gone. She probably dropped it unknowingly. I hadn’t called out. I’d just closed my fingers around it. It was still warm from her hand.
Now, I brought it to my face, my eyes shut. I inhaled. There it was. Faint, almost gone, clinging to the metal. Jasmine, and something else, something clean and sharp like rain on dry earth. Arielle. The scent went straight to my gut, a low, pulling ache.
‘I’m sure she’s not there yet,’ Tyson sneered in my mind, his voice all mocking patience. ‘So go there. Breathe it in properly. Soothe yourself. You’re acting like a pup in his first rut.’
I hated him. I hated this. I clenched the key until the teeth bit into my palm. The protest died in my throat. My legs moved on their own, swinging off the bed, planting my feet on the floor. Before I knew what I was doing, I was out the door, crossing the distance between my place and hers, the key a brand in my hand.
The late afternoon air did nothing to cool me down. I slid the key into the lock of her cottage door. The click was too loud in the quiet street. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a second.
Her scent hit me then, not the ghost on the key, but the real thing. It hung in the air of the empty living room, in the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. It was from last night, already fading, but here, concentrated in this space she’d chosen, it was enough to make my head swim. I was spellbound, a fool following a trail. I walked past the living room, down the short hall, to the bedroom doorway.
Empty. But her scent was stronger here, on the sheets, in the closet. I stood there, breathing it in, and it wasn’t soothing. It was pouring gasoline on the fire. A deep, possessive growl rumbled in my chest, vibrating in the quiet.
“I want more of her,” I heard myself say, the words raw and barely human.
‘I knew you did,’ Tyson purred, triumphant. ‘You can’t fight this. It’s not a fight you’re supposed to win.’
He was right, and that was the worst part. This wasn’t just desire. It was a devastating, gravitational pull. My wolf was howling for his mate, and my human half was crumbling under the weight of it.
I spun away from the bedroom, frustration boiling over. My fist shot out and connected with the living room wall. Plaster cracked under the impact, a sharp, satisfying sound. A fine white dust sifted to the floor. I hated this feeling. This burning, this lack of control. She was nobody. A wolfless girl from a pack I despise. A complication.
I moved to the door, but was able to only pull it open slightly and couldn't take another step. My knees felt weak, the energy of my anger draining away, leaving only the relentless need. I staggered back and sank onto the sofa, the springs groaning under my weight. A wave of dizziness washed over me, a sick, heady feeling. I let my head fall back against the cushions, staring at the water stain on the ceiling. Her name fell from my lips, a broken sigh.
“Arielle…”
‘You want her. We need her,’ Tyson insisted, his voice softer now, coaxing. ‘Let’s just get done with this. Imagine it. Properly. It’ll take the edge off until she gets here. Then we can have the real thing.’
“No,” I argued, but it was weak, my eyes already closing. “I don’t want that. She’s nothing to me. I can’t accept her, Tyson. I can’t…”
My voice trailed off. The darkness behind my eyelids wasn’t empty. It swirled, warmed. The scent in the room seemed to get richer, closer, wrapping around me.
And then I felt it. Not just her scent. Her closeness. The heat of another body beside me on the couch. My eyes snapped open.
She was there.
Arielle. Sitting right next to me, her hip brushing mine. She was turned towards me, one leg tucked beneath her.
My breath caught. “Arielle?”
She smiled. It was a slow, knowing curve of her lips, nothing like the wary defiance she’d shown me last night. These were the perfect lips my traitorous mind had already memorized. Her eyes, that clear, defiant aqua, held mine without a flicker of fear.
“Yes, Alpha Aeson,” she said, her voice a low, smooth murmur that went straight through me. “You summoned me. I’m here.”
“No,” I breathed, disbelieving. “You can’t be.”
“But I am.” Her hand came up, not fast, but slow, deliberate. Her fingertips brushed the center of my chest, over my t-shirt. A simple touch, but it sent a shockwave of heat straight down my spine. Her hand slowly drifted lower, tracing the line down my stomach, and every muscle in my abdomen tightened in response.
“Arielle… stop it,” I warned, but it came out as a low pant. I wasn’t pushing her away.
“No,” she whispered, leaning in closer. Her scent was overwhelming now, jasmine and wild rain. “I understand the state you’re in. Let me soothe your desires.” Her face was inches from mine. “We’re fated mates. It won’t change.”
The temptation was a living thing, coiling in the space between our mouths. My hand moved without my permission, lifting, drawn to her like metal to a magnet. My fingers touched her cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft. I trailed them back, into the dark silk of her hair, then down the column of her neck. I felt the steady pulse under my thumb. My grip tightened, just a little, and I pulled her closer. Our foreheads almost touched. I could feel her breath mingling with mine.
I stopped, a last shred of control holding me frozen.
Her other hand moved then, lower. Her fingers skimmed the waistband of my pants.
“You’re… tempting,” I groaned, the words ripped from me.
A wicked little smirk played on her lips. “And you’re dangerous. And sinful.” Her hand slipped past the fabric, her cool fingers circling my dick. I jerked, a loud, ragged groan tearing from my throat that echoed in the empty room.
“Arielle.”
My grip on her neck tightened as her hand began to move, a slow, torturous rhythm. It was a different kind of possession. This wasn't just about her scent now. This was about the feel of her skin, the pressure of her hand, the promise in her eyes. It was far more soothing, and a thousand times more maddening. I wanted every feel of her. Now. My control was a thread, fraying fast.
I was lost in it, in the haze of need and this vivid, perfect fantasy, when I heard it.
A distinct thud from outside. Not in the dream. Not in the trance. A real, solid sound of something hitting the stone porch.
My eyes flew open.
The dimming light of the room swam into focus. The space beside me on the couch was empty. The warmth was gone. Arielle wasn’t here. A harsh, ragged breath shuddered out of me.
A trance. I’d been so deep in my own need, my wolf’s pushing, that I’d conjured her. I ran a shaking hand over my face.
But… wait.
The scent. It wasn’t just the fading ghost from last night anymore. It was fresh. Stronger. Present.
‘Hey!’ Tyson’s voice was a sharp bark of alarm and excitement in my head. ‘Our mate! She’s here! She’s really here!’
My head twisted toward the front door. Through the window, I saw a shadow fall across the porch. A human shape. The door handle rattled, then began to push inward.