Chapter 18 The Mark of the North
Chapter Eighteen
The Mark of the North
XAVIER’S POV
"I told you I’d lose control, Avrielle. There’s no turning back now."
The warning left my lips as a ragged, low-timbered snarl—a sound that didn't feel like it belonged to the man I pretended to be in the daylight. The air in the room had turned heavy, saturated with the scent of rain-drenched earth from the storm outside and her own intoxicating, floral sweetness. It was a cocktail that had Thorne pacing at the very edge of my consciousness, his claws metaphorical needles against my ribs, ready to tear through the surface of my skin.
My hands were shaking, a rare tremor of restraint fighting a losing battle against instinct. I let go of her wrists, the pale skin there flushed from my grip, and my fingers fumbled for a split second before finding the cold metal of the zipper at the back of her champagne silk gown.
With one sharp, decisive tug, the silk gave way. I watched, mesmerized and breathless, as the fabric lost its battle with gravity. It slid over the smooth, porcelain curve of her shoulders and pooled at her feet in a shimmering, discarded heap. She stood before me in nothing but a few scraps of black lace, her skin glowing like polished moonlight against the shadows of the room. She looked fragile, yet her eyes held a fire that told me she was anything but.
A guttural growl ripped from my throat, vibrating deep in my chest. I didn't care about the consequences anymore. I didn't care about the council, the delicate politics of the North, or the blood-stained history that had kept us at arm's length. In this room, the world didn't exist.
I reached down, my hand finding the incredible heat between her thighs. I circled her through the thin, teasing barrier of her lace panties, my thumb catching on the damp silk. Her reaction was instantaneous and electric. She gasped, a sharp intake of air that hitched in her throat, and her head fell back as she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck. She pulled me into her space, her breasts pressing firmly against my bare chest—soft, warm, and heavy. The sensation drove me to the absolute brink of insanity.
"Xavier... please," she moaned. It wasn't a plea for me to stop; it was a frantic, melodic demand that shattered the very last of my restraint.
I reached behind her, unhooking her bra with a practiced ease that felt clumsy in my desperation. As the lace fell away, her breasts spilled into my palms. They were perfect—aching and heavy with desire. I groaned, a sound of pure worship, and ducked my head to take one dark, peaked nipple into my mouth. I sucked hard, swirling my tongue against the sensitive bud, while my hand increased its pace against her lower half. She was a moaning mess now, her body arching like a bow into mine, her fingers digging painfully into my scalp as she fought for the friction she so clearly needed.
I felt the sudden, violent tremor of her climax before the first sob of release even left her lips. She buckled against me, her legs turning to water, her entire body shaking as she let go. I felt the warmth of her pleasure soaking into the lace beneath my palm. I held her upright, pinning her against me as my own blood thrummed with a prehistoric, driving rhythm.
I leaned in, biting down hard on her earlobe, my teeth grazing the delicate skin just enough to sting.
"Brace yourself, Avrielle," I whispered, my voice thick with a dark, heavy promise. "Because you’re going to get a lot of me tonight. I'm done being gentle."
She didn't shy away from the threat. Instead, she stepped back just an inch, her eyes glazed with a primal hunger I had never seen in her before—a reflection of the wolf I knew was staring back at her. She reached for the waistband of my damp trousers, her movements hurried and silver-edged with need. She pulled them and my boxers down in one swift motion. I felt a surge of heat—a rare flash of vulnerability—as I watched her eyes widen. She traced the length of me with a silent, heavy appreciation that made Thorne howl in triumph within my mind.
I didn't give her a chance to speak or process. I stripped the last of the lace from her hips, tossing it aside, and stepped back into her personal space. I kissed her with a bruising intensity, a collision of teeth and tongue that tasted like copper and wanting.
"Jump," I commanded against her lips.
She didn't hesitate. She leaped, her legs wrapping around my waist with a strength that surprised me. I caught her, my back hitting the wall for support with a dull thud that shook the frames on the wall. I guided myself to her entrance, feeling how incredibly wet and ready she was for me. I didn't tease; I didn't wait. I thrust into her in one deep, soul-shattering stroke that buried me to the hilt.
A sharp, high-pitched gasp escaped her, her nails clawing at my shoulders. I felt the sting of her marks, probably drawing blood, but the pain was just another form of pleasure. I had wanted to take it slow—to cherish every inch of her—but Thorne was a beast unchained by the pull of the moon and the scent of his mate. The bond was a ruthless master, and it demanded total surrender.
Before I could even find a steady rhythm, I was thrusting into her with a violent, rhythmic speed. Each ramming motion made the very wall behind us creak in protest.
"Xavier! Oh, God, Xavier!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the high ceilings of the small room. I knew the neighbors could hear us; I knew I was marking my territory with every sound she made, letting the world know who she belonged to, and I simply didn't care.
I felt the ecstasy reaching its peak, a white-hot explosion building in my gut that felt like molten lead. Thorne took the reins completely, his supernatural strength flooding my muscles. I hammered into her, my movements frantic and primal, my vision blurring at the edges. I moved my lips to the crook of her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin there as she tilted her head back, offering herself to me completely.
She screamed my name one last time, her body tightening around me in a second, even more violent release that pulsed against me. As she shook, I felt my fangs elongate, the silver light of the moon reflecting in my changing vision. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to.
I sank my teeth into the junction of her shoulder and neck. I tasted the metallic sweetness of her blood as I finally let go, releasing everything I was inside her.
The world went silent for a heartbeat. I felt the bond snap into place—thick, golden, and unbreakable. I had marked her. She was mine in the eyes of the moon and the stars, even if the rest of the world wasn't ready to know it yet.
I slowly took control back from the wolf, my breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. I began to lick the blood from the fresh mark on her neck, my tongue soothing the wound I had just inflicted, the healing process already beginning under the touch of my saliva.
She clung to me like a lifeline, her head resting heavily on my shoulder as her breathing slowly mirrored the frantic pace of mine. I tightened my grip on her hips, my hand coming down in a sharp, possessive smack against her backside that made her jump slightly and let out a small, surprised puff of air.
"Let’s continue this on the bed, shall we?" I muttered, my voice low, dark, and still vibrating with the wolf’s influence. "I'm nowhere near finished with you."
I didn't wait for an answer. I carried her toward the bed, the scattered rose petals beneath us the only witness to the fact that the Devil had finally found his Queen and he was never letting her go.