Chapter 53 Fifty three
Koda carried Harper upstairs without a word, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The house below was a fading echo—sirens growing louder outside, voices shouting in the living room, the metallic tang of blood still thick in the air—but up here the hallway felt sealed off, quiet except for the soft creak of floorboards under his boots.
He didn’t take her to her room.
He turned left at the landing and pushed open the door to his own bedroom.
The space was darker than hers: black walls, heavy curtains drawn against the moon, a single low lamp on the nightstand throwing long shadows across the rumpled sheets and scattered clothes. It smelled like him—smoke, cedar, something sharper and wilder underneath.
He kicked the door shut behind them.
The lock clicked.
He crossed to the bed in three strides and laid her down in the center of the mattress. Not roughly. Not gently either. Just… placed her there, like something precious he had waited too long to claim.
Harper immediately tried to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Her voice cracked on the last word. She pushed herself onto her elbows, but he was already there—knees bracketing her hips, hands planting on either side of her head, caging her beneath him without touching.
She froze.
“Koda,” she whispered.
He shook his head once. Slow.
“No, babygirl.”
Harper scoffed, but the sound came out shaky. “The One.”
He nodded. A small, satisfied tilt of his mouth.
She swallowed hard. “Why did you shove Kai into the wall?”
“Because he was going to try and stop me.”
Harper gulped. “Stop you from what?”
The One leaned down until his mouth hovered a breath above hers.
“From finally having you.”
Her pulse roared in her ears. She tried to twist sideways, to slide out from under him, but his hand caught her wrist—firm, not bruising—and guided it back to the mattress beside her head. Before she could speak again his lips found the side of her neck.
He kissed there once—soft, almost reverent—then dragged his mouth higher, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear.
Harper whimpered. The sound escaped before she could trap it.
“Stop,” she breathed.
He didn’t.
His free hand slid under the hem of her top, palm flattening against the bare skin of her stomach. Warm. Possessive. He kissed down the column of her throat, slow open-mouthed presses that made her shiver despite herself.
“Sheesh,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough with want, “and enjoy this.”
Harper’s breath hitched.
Her body was betraying her—arching toward his mouth, hips shifting restlessly under his weight, heat pooling low in her belly. She hated it. She wanted it. The contradiction made her dizzy.
His teeth scraped lightly over her pulse point. Not biting. Just enough to make her gasp.
“The One—” Her voice was thin, pleading.
He lifted his head.
Looked down at her.
Eyes black again—deep, endless, burning.
“You keep saying my name like it’s a warning,” he said softly. “But every time you do, your heart races faster. Your pupils blow wide. Your thighs press together.”
Harper flushed hot.
He was right.
She hated that he was right.
His hand slid higher under her shirt, thumb brushing the underside of her bra. He didn’t push further—just rested there, letting her feel the weight of his palm, the heat of his skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly. “Mean it. And I will.”
Harper stared up at him.
Her chest rose and fell too fast.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Instead her free hand lifted—trembling—and curled into the front of his hoodie. She tugged once.
He exhaled sharply through his nose.
Then he kissed her.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
His mouth claimed hers like he’d been starving for it. Lips hard, tongue sweeping in without preamble. Harper met him with equal hunger—teeth clashing, fingers twisting in his hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.
He groaned low in his throat.
The sound vibrated against her lips and sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
His hand slid fully under her bra now, cupping her breast, thumb circling slowly over the peak. Harper arched into the touch with a broken moan. He swallowed the sound, kissing her deeper, hips rolling down in a slow, deliberate grind that made her gasp against his mouth.
She hooked one leg around his waist, pulling him tighter.
He growled—low, possessive—and broke the kiss only long enough to drag his mouth back to her throat, sucking a mark just above her collarbone.
Harper’s head fell back against the pillows.
Her hands shoved at his hoodie, desperate to feel skin.
He lifted up just enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside.
The lamplight carved sharp shadows over his chest, his shoulders, the faint scars that crisscrossed his ribs—some old, some hers from earlier when she’d clawed at him downstairs.
She reached for him.
He caught her wrists, pinned them gently above her head with one hand.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She did.
His eyes were still black, but there was something else in them now—something raw, almost desperate.
“I’ve waited centuries for this,” he said. Voice rough. “For you.”
Harper’s throat tightened.
“Then take it slow,” she whispered.
He stilled.
Searched her face.
Then—slowly—he released her wrists.
His hands moved to the hem of her top instead. He peeled it up inch by inch, eyes never leaving hers, giving her every chance to stop him.
She didn’t.
She lifted her arms.
The fabric came off.
His gaze dropped—hungry, reverent.
He leaned down and kissed the center of her chest, right over her heart.
Then lower.
Harper’s back bowed off the bed with a soft cry.
His mouth was everywhere—kissing, tasting, worshipping—while his hands worked the button of her jeans, sliding them down her hips with careful patience. She kicked them off. His sweatpants followed.
Skin on skin.
Heat on heat.
He settled between her thighs, weight braced on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing her.
Their mouths met again—slower this time. Deeper. Like they were memorizing each other.
Harper’s hands roamed his back, nails dragging lightly down his spine. He shuddered above her.
“Harper,” he breathed against her lips.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
Guided him closer.
He groaned—long, broken—and pushed inside her in one slow, careful thrust.
Harper’s head fell back on a gasp.
He stilled, buried deep, forehead pressed to hers.
“You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded frantically.
“Move.”
He did.
Slow at first—long, rolling thrusts that made her toes curl.
Then faster.
Harder.
Harper clung to him—nails in his shoulders, legs locked around his hips, meeting every movement.
The bed creaked beneath them.
The fairy lights blurred overhead.
Her breath came in short, desperate pants.
His mouth found hers again—messy, open-mouthed kisses that swallowed every sound she made.
She felt it building—tight, electric, inevitable.
“The One—” she gasped.
He buried his face in her neck.
“Come for me,” he rasped.
She did.
Hard.
A broken cry tore from her throat as pleasure crashed through her in waves.
He followed seconds later—body locking tight, low growl rumbling against her skin as he spilled inside her.
They stayed like that—tangled, trembling, breathing each other in.
He didn’t pull out.
Just held her.
Forehead to hers.
Quiet.
Until the bedroom door burst open.
Kai stood in the doorway—blood on his temple, shirt torn, eyes wide with horror.
Behind him: Alpha Darius and Samantha, faces pale, fury and fear warring on their expressions.
The one lifted his head slowly.
Met their gazes.
His eyes were black again—pure, endless black.
He smirked.
Slow.
Cruel.
Satisfied.
“I’m back.”