Chapter 94

Chapter 94
Sera POV

I didn’t knock.

I pushed it open.

The moment I stepped inside, the dizziness eased slightly, like the bond loosened its grip just enough to let me breathe.

I immediately collapsed; Jade stood up when he saw me on the floor. His breath changed, sharper, tighter. The instinct in him always rose first; he crossed the room, slow and silent, and lowered himself to a crouch in front of me.

His hand reached out, hesitated, then cupped my cheek.

“Sera,” he murmured, and my name sounded like a vow spoken under oath.

I should have said something. I should have told him about Moreen, about the dagger, about the flames in the shrine. But the words tangled in my throat, heavy and unsteady.

His thumb brushed my skin, slow, tracing the faint warmth beneath the surface, the same warmth I had tried to steady alone. His eyes searched mine.

“Come here.”

The words weren’t a command, but my body responded as though they were.

I moved toward him, and he lifted me gently, pulling me into his lap, as though my weight was something he had been waiting to feel again. His arms wrapped around me, strong and tense, like holding me together was the only way to keep himself from unravelling.

The bond pulsed between us.

His forehead rested against mine, and the heat of him soaked into me, easing the ache inch by inch. His hands slid along my back, just steady, as if he were trying to memorise the shape of me beneath his fingers.

“My lovely Sera,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t rough this time. It was low, almost raw. “I love you so much.”

He exhaled hard, the words breaking before they finished.

I felt the truth of it inside the bond.

His fear wasn’t of the pack. His fear was losing me.

My breath faltered.

Without thinking, my fingers tangled in his shirt, holding on. Holding back. Holding close. The warmth in my chest spread slowly, steadily, and terrifyingly in how deeply it settled.

He lifted his head slightly, eyes dark and bright all at once.

“Sera.”

His voice carried heat. Hunger. But more than that, it felt like surrender and possession tangled together.

When he kissed me, it wasn’t rushed.

It was deep and slow, like he was pulling breath from my lungs and giving it back in the same motion. His hands traced my waist, my back, and my shoulders, not forcing me closer but asking, even when he didn’t speak.

I melted into him.

Not because of the bond.

Not because of fate.

But because my body remembered him, his warmth, his steadiness, and his hunger threaded with longing.

His lips travelled along my jaw and my throat, slow enough to feel every breath between us. The mark on my neck pulsed under his mouth, heat building, spreading through me like fire curling through dry wood.

The world narrowed to only us.

His breath.

My pulse.

The quiet rasp of his voice near my ear.

“Do you feel it?” He whispered, dragging his lips back to mine, “How deep does this go?”

I did.

And it scared me.

But I didn’t pull away.

Not when his hands slid to hold me firmer.

Not when I leaned into him like he was the only thing keeping me upright.

Not when the bond flared bright enough to make the air between us feel alive.

The intimacy that followed didn’t rush or explode; it deepened, unfolding slowly and consuming, like a tide pulling me under steady and inevitable. There was no violence in it tonight, no clash of dominance and resistance. His body against mine.

My breath tangled with his.

Heat, pressure, and closeness that felt like surrender and belonging twisted into one.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, lying against him, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breath. The room felt warm, too warm, as though the mark at my neck had become a tiny sun beneath my skin. Jade’s arm stayed wrapped around my waist, solid and certain, like he thought if he loosened his grip for even a moment, I might vanish.

I tried to steady my breathing, slow it down, and quiet the shaking in my chest. But every time I tried to draw in air, the bond pulsed in response, tightening around my ribs, around my thoughts, around the quiet place inside me where I had once kept myself safe.

That place felt smaller now.

My hand moved of its own accord, tracing the line of his shoulder, his chest, and the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t choose to. My body acted before my mind could catch up, as though something in the mark had replaced instinct and rewritten it until reaching for him felt as natural as breathing.

My heart stuttered, and I pulled back.

Just enough to see his face, to see the soft ease in his expression, the peace that settled over him only when I was pressed close enough for our hearts to share a rhythm.

His eyes were half-lidded, his breath deep. There was no tension in him now.

He looked… so human.

And that was when the fear began to bloom.

If my body reached for him when my mind didn’t want to…

If my heart beat to match his without permission…

If the bond could pull me back into his arms even after pain, even after fear, then where, inside myself, was I?

I tried to stand.

My legs folded beneath me.

My knees hit the floor.

A sound slipped from my throat, small and broken, before I could swallow it down.

Jade’s hand reached for me, instinctive, protective, too quick to refuse, but I pulled away before his fingers could touch me.

And the bond pulled me back toward him anyway.

Slow at first, then with the steady, invisible weight of gravity.

My breath trembled.

“This isn’t…” I tried to speak, but the words tangled, tangled like everything inside me was being rewired. “This isn’t my choice anymore.”

I felt the truth of it settle like a hand closing around my heart.

“I can’t tell where I end,” I whispered, the words barely more than breath, “and where you begin.”

The mark pulsed again, warm and consuming.