Chapter 20 Chapter 20
Anya’s POV
My hands were flat against his chest, but they weren't pushing. They were just... there, feeling the impossible heat of him, the thundering, wild rhythm of his heart beneath my palms.
I cried so loud in fear, "No!"
He heard it.
His entire body went rigid. The mouth devouring mine went perfectly, terrifyingly still. His fangs were still bared, the sharp points pricking my lower lip.
"N-No..." I whimpered, the word barely audible. "Please...you're... you're hurting me."
With a sound of such pained, bestial effort it was almost a roar, he tore himself away from me.
He didn't just step back; he launched himself across the room, slamming his palms against the stone window frame, his back to me.
I sagged against the wall, my legs shaking, my lips tingling and swollen. I watched him, my heart in my throat.
He was vibrating with a coiled energy. The full moon was streaming in, bathing his bare, blood-streaked back in silver light.
He was supposed to be a monster right now. He was supposed to be on me, finishing me.
But he was fighting.
"Alpha?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Don't," he commanded, his voice a deep warning, strained to the breaking point. "Don't... talk. Don't move."
I could see the muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and defined by an agonizing tension.
His fists were clenched so tightly against the stone that his knuckles were white.
"You..." I swallowed, my mind reeling. "You're not changing."
He let out a short, harsh laugh that was more like a bark of pain.
"I am," he growled, his forehead now pressed against the cool glass. "That's... that's the problem. I'm... fighting it."
"But... why?" I breathed, my hand still pressed to my swollen lips. "Your blood... I thought..."
He finally turned his head, his profile silhouetted against the moon. His eyes were still glowing, a terrifying and mesmerizing crimson-gold.
"Because," he panted in a desperate confession, "it's not rage I'm feeling right now, Anya..."
He paused, his burning gaze cutting through me.
"...It's hunger."
I just stared, my mind blank with confusion, my lips still tingling. "W-What?"
He turned fully from the window, and the raw, burning need in his glowing eyes made my knees weak.
"A hunger to want you," he growled, the words torn from his chest as he stalked toward me. "To taste you. To own you. My wolf... he craves you, and I am tearing myself apart fighting him."
He was closer now, a predator closing in.
"Your scent," he hissed, inhaling deeply, as if the air around me was a drug. "It's... it's fucking maddening. It's everywhere. I want you all over me. I want to be buried so deep inside you that I can't tell where you end and I begin."
He stopped, just inches away, close enough for me to feel the radiating heat from his body.
"But you're human," he snarled, the word a curse. "Fragile. Breakable. I shouldn't want you. I should throw you back to Borin, kick you from my sight."
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
"But I can't," he whispered, his voice a possessive, terrifying caress. "Because you are mine now, Anya. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to keep."
A sob tore from my throat. I shook my head, fresh tears streaming down my face as my back pressed hard against the cold stone. I was trapped.
"Please," I whispered, the words fractured and pathetic. "Please... don't kill me. I... I've always... I've always wanted to die... but I'm so afraid to."
His gaze was still burning, but the feral hunger was being banked, replaced by that cold, terrifyingly analytical focus.
He grabbed my arm. It wasn't a violent yank, but it wasn't gentle either.
It was a firm, non-negotiable pull that hauled me from the wall and forced me to sit on the edge of the bed. I was his prisoner, being repositioned for an interrogation.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
The statement was so absurd, so contradictory to everything that had just happened, that I just stared at him, my mind unable to process the whiplash.
"I want to know you," he continued, his voice low and intense. "Where did you come from?"
"An... an orphanage," I whispered softly.
"And your parents?" he pressed.
"I don't know."
"I need to know," he insisted, his voice dropping. "Because before the mating ritual... I need to know all of you."
The air was sucked from my lungs. "But... I'll die after the mating ritual—" I choked out, the words Elder Agatha had spoken now a death sentence.
"And what if you don't?" he countered, his voice flat.
I stared at him, my terror finding a sharp, bitter edge. "And what if I do?"
His eyes bored into mine, analytical and cold. "Then how about we practice?" he purred, the sound a low, predatory rumble that made my skin crawl. "We'll start small. Kissing."
He tilted his head, "We'll see if you can... survive... just that."
"Practice?!" I repeated, my voice rising with a hysterical, terrified sarcasm. "What, you expect me to just... get naked, lie in your bed, and we'll 'see how this ends'?" My voice cracked. "What happens when kissing isn't enough? What happens when you can't control yourself?!"
"But what if you don't die?" he countered, his voice smooth and dangerously reasonable, like a merchant haggling over livestock. "Let's make a deal, little human. An agreement."
He stepped closer, his gaze trapping mine. "You help me cure this fucking curse. You survive the process... if you survive... and I will give you anything you want. Freedom. A house of your own. Chests of gold. Servants to wait on you. Anything."
I stared at him, my heart thrashing with a sudden, cold wrath.
"If I survive," I spat, the words tasting like venom, "I don't want your gold. I don't want your house. The only thing I want... is to never, ever see you, or any of your kind, again. I want to be as far away from this world as possible."
He didn't even flinch. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face.
"Deal."
Before the word had even finished echoing, his mouth crashed down on mine.