Chapter 27 Temporary Relief
Wynter's POV
Sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, painting golden stripes across Chase's bare chest.
I woke to the now-familiar press of his erection against my hip—despite everything we'd done last night.
Last night had been different. For the first time since he'd Marked me, I'd felt truly satisfied. We'd fallen asleep tangled together, and for those few precious hours, the constant ache had finally quieted.
But now, with morning light creeping across the bed and our bodies no longer joined, I could feel it returning. That hollow emptiness, creeping back in like a tide I couldn't hold back.
It didn't last, I realized with growing dread.
The Bond hummed between us, and my body responded before my mind could catch up—core clenching, a warm ache building low in my belly even though last night should have been enough.
My hand moved almost of its own accord, trailing down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, lower—until my fingers wrapped around his hard length.
His eyes snapped open immediately, flooding gold as his wolf surged to the surface. "Wynter—"
I didn't let him finish. I swung my leg over his hips, straddling him, and positioned myself over his cock. His hands flew to my hips, gripping hard.
"What are you—" he started, but I cut him off by sinking down onto him in one smooth motion that made us both groan.
"Fuck," he gasped, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. "Wynter, again? Last night I thought—"
"I know," I whispered, beginning to move. "I thought it would be enough. But it's not." My voice cracked. "Don't you feel it too? The need coming back?"
"God, yes." His voice came out strangled, his hips bucking up to meet mine. "I woke up hard for you. Even after last night—I still want you."
Relief flooded through me. So it's not just me.
Through the Bond, I could feel his desperation matching mine—this wasn't about pleasure anymore, it was about trying to fill a void that never stayed filled.
"I don't understand," I gasped as his thumb found my clit. "Last night felt different. Why is it back already?"
"I fell asleep satisfied for the first time in weeks. But I woke up and—" His voice dropped to something almost anguished. "It's like my body forgot we'd done anything at all."
"It's the incomplete Bond, isn't it?" I could barely form words as pleasure built. "The Mark without the bite—it's designed to torture us into completing it."
"Then fucking complete it," he groaned, his hips driving up harder. "Bite me, Wynter. End this torture."
"I can't," I choked out, even as my body climbed toward orgasm. "Even if it means suffering like this forever—I can't."
His grip on my hips tightened bruisingly. "You think I want this? To wake up hard no matter what we did the night before?" His voice cracked. "Nothing satisfies it except being inside you, and even that—"
"Doesn't last," I finished, my nails digging into his chest. "The relief only lasts hours before the craving comes back."
"It's killing us," he said, desperation beneath the arousal. "This need that resets every time we're apart—it's going to break us."
"I know," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes even as pleasure coiled tighter.
His hand slid down between us, thumb pressing harder against my clit. "Then end it. Please, Wynter. I can't keep doing this. Can't keep waking up wanting you desperately, knowing the satisfaction won't last past the next sunrise."
"Chase—" His name came out as a moan.
"Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with need and despair. "Let me feel you. Even if it only helps for a few hours, let me have that."
When the orgasm hit, it was overwhelming—my body convulsing around him, his name tearing from my throat.
He followed moments later, his hips jerking as he spilled inside me with a harsh groan.
I collapsed forward onto his chest, both of us gasping, and for maybe thirty seconds—just thirty perfect seconds—I felt complete. Satisfied. Whole.
Then reality crept back in.
Not the emptiness yet—that would take hours to return. But the knowledge. The cold, terrifying knowledge that this satisfaction was temporary.
It's not enough, I thought desperately. It will never be enough without completing the Bond.
"You feel it too," Chase breathed against my hair, defeat in his voice. "Not the emptiness yet. But the knowledge that it's coming back. That this won't last."
I nodded against his chest, unable to speak.
His arms tightened around me. "Last night I thought we'd finally figured it out. But it doesn't work that way, does it?"
"No," I whispered. "The Mark doesn't care how many times we come together. It only cares about one thing."
"Completion," he said flatly.
We lay there in silence. The incomplete Mark had created an endless cycle of need that sex could only temporarily ease, never truly satisfy.
"This is what it does," I said quietly. "An incomplete Bond. The Mark creates the craving, but without the completion bite, there's no real fulfillment. Just this endless cycle—satisfaction that lasts hours at most, then the hunger returns."
"Then bite me," Chase said again, voice rough with desperation. "Complete the Bond and end this. I can't keep living like this."
"I want to trust you," I said, my voice breaking as I pulled away slightly to look at him. "Chase, I do trust you. You've proven yourself over and over. But it's not about trust anymore."
His brow furrowed. "Then what is it about?"
"Fear," I admitted, the word tearing from somewhere deep inside. "I'm terrified that if I complete the Bond—if I tie myself to you permanently—and then we find out your father really was involved in my father's death..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"You think it would destroy you," he said quietly.
"I think it would destroy us both," I whispered. "Right now, if the worst happens, I could walk away. It would hurt—God, it would kill me—but I could do it. But if we complete the Bond?" I shook my head. "Then I'd be permanently tied to the family that murdered my father. And you'd be permanently tied to a mate who could never forgive that. We'd both be trapped in a bond filled with resentment and pain."
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing away a tear. "So you'd rather suffer like this?" His voice was gentle now, heartbroken. "Rather live in constant, unsatisfied need than risk finding out the truth?"
"The physical pain I can bear," I said, barely above a whisper. "This ache, this constant craving—it's torture, but it's bearable torture. What I can't bear is the thought of completing the Bond and then discovering..." I had to pause, swallowing hard. "Discovering that your family are the murderers who killed my father."
"Wynter—" His voice cracked, and I could feel his anguish bleeding through the Bond.
"I know you're investigating," I continued, forcing the words out. "I know you promised to find the truth. And I believe you will." I took a shaky breath. "But right now, in this moment, I can't complete the Bond. Not when there's even a chance—however small—that the truth will destroy us."
Pain flashed across his face. "Didn't you promise me yesterday that you'd try to trust me and let me investigate?"
"I am trusting you to investigate," I said, voice trembling. "I'm trusting you with the truth, even though it terrifies me. But trusting you to search for answers and completing an irreversible Bond—those are two different things, Chase."
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb still stroking my cheek, his eyes searching mine. "So we just... wait? Suffer through this while I try to find proof that may not even exist?"
"I don't know what else to do," I admitted, and the helplessness in my own voice nearly broke me. "I wish I had a better answer. I wish I could just bite you and make all of this stop. But I can't. Not yet."
I started to pull away, and his arms tightened reflexively before he forced himself to let go. I could feel his wolf howling in protest through the Bond.
"I have to go," I said softly, reaching for my dress. Not because I wanted to leave, but because staying would only make this harder for both of us.
"Wynter—"
"Please." I couldn't look at him as I pulled the black dress over my head, my hands shaking. "I can't stay. If I do, we'll just keep circling this same argument, and nothing will change. We'll just hurt each other more."