Chapter 54 Kisses And Bad breath
I wake up screaming.
Not the kind of scream that tears out of my throat loud enough to wake the dead, but the kind that collapses inward, choking itself off in my chest, leaving my lungs burning and my heart hammering so hard I swear it’s trying to claw its way out.
The nightmare is still clinging to me when my eyes fly open.
I’m standing in front of a mirror in the dream. No trapped in front of it. My reflection isn’t mimicking me. It’s watching. Smiling. Its eyes glow that molten, inhuman red, and when it reaches out, the glass doesn’t crack, it ripples like water.
Hands, my hands, grab my wrists from the other side and yank.
I feel myself being dragged forward, skin peeling away from bone, my scream splitting into something animal and wrong as the thing in the mirror pulls me through and steps out wearing my body like a prize.
You’re mine, it whispers.
I jolt awake gasping.
The world snaps back into place slowly, the dim light filtering through heavy curtains, the faint scent of pine and smoke, the steady, grounding sound of a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
Arms tighten around me.
Strong. Warm. Solid.
Darius.
I freeze for half a second, then become painfully aware of how close we are. My back is pressed to his chest, his arm slung heavy and possessive around my waist, his other hand curled loosely near my shoulder like even in sleep he’s guarding me.
I stare at the wall, breathing slowly, trying to convince myself I’m here that I’m real. That the thing in the mirror is gone.
His scent wraps around me, leather, cedar, something uniquely him. It steadies me more than I want to admit.
I turn my head slightly.
His face is relaxed in sleep, the sharp edges softened. The scar cutting through his eyebrow, one I’ve noticed far too many times, looks almost gentle like this. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheek, his mouth parted just enough to suggest he’s breathing deeply.
Before I can stop myself, my fingers lift.
I want to trace that scar. Follow it with my thumb. Memorize the way his tattoos curve over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink against golden skin, telling stories I don’t know yet.
I don’t touch him.
Instead, I swallow and shift, trying to create space.
“Are you done staring, or should I charge admission?”
I jump.
His voice is thick with sleep, amused, his eyes still closed. My heart slams against my ribs.
“You’re awake,” I mutter.
“Mmm. Been awake,” he says. “You were breathing like you were running from hell.”
I stiffen.
“You smell like fear.” he murmurs, tightening his hold slightly “It was just a dream,” he reassures me.
That annoys me. I shove at his arm. “Let go.”
He doesn’t.
Instead, he rolls us so fast I barely register the movement before I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering over me, his weight braced on one arm, the other caging me in.
My pulse stutters.
“Get off me,” I snap.
He smirks. “You shove like a kitten.”
I push harder.
He leans down and kisses me.
It’s not slow or gentle, it’s brief and unapologetic, his mouth warm and firm against mine, stealing my breath before I can protest. When he pulls back, my lips are tingling and my thoughts are a mess.
“You’re impossible,” I hiss.
“You were the one staring,” he counters. “Thinking dangerous thoughts.”
“I was not.”
“Mm. You were absolutely thinking about me being inside you.”
I scoff. “Delusional.”
He grins. “Then why are you blushing?”
“I am not—”
“You are.”
I shove him again, harder this time, and he laughs, the sound low and irritatingly attractive.
“You should brush your teeth before you kiss someone,” I mutter, grasping for control. “Your breath is terrible.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Funny. Coming from you.”
I see red.
My fist connects with his side before I can stop myself.
The sound is solid. Satisfying.
He groans, collapsing dramatically beside me. “Yeah,” he mutters, clutching his ribs. “That’s what I deserve.”
I roll my eyes, trying not to feel bad.
He doesn’t stay down long.
In one fluid motion, he’s on me again, this time pinning my wrists above my head, his knee sliding between my thighs, his body close enough that I can feel the unmistakable hardness pressing through his sweatpants.
My breath catches.
Heat coils low in my belly, unwelcome and traitorous.
He notices.
Of course he does.
His gaze darkens. “Careful,” he murmurs. “Your body tells on you.”
“I hate you,” I say, but it comes out breathless.
“Liar,” he says again.
The moment stretches charged, dangerous, intoxicating.
Then.
Knock. Knock.
We both freeze.
Darius exhales slowly, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Worst timing in the history of timing.”
I shove him off me with renewed strength. “Get off.”
He rolls away, muttering something about fate having a cruel sense of humor, and answers the door after pulling on a shirt.
I sit up, heart racing, pulling the blankets around myself like they can hide the way my body betrayed me.
After a while, he comes back.
His mood has shifted, lighter, almost… proud.
“You saved the pack last night,” he says simply.
I blink. “What?”
“They’re alive because of you. A lot of them.”
I don’t know how to respond to that.
At breakfast, the great hall is full.
Too full.
Every table is occupied, voices overlapping, the air warm with the smell of food and life and something dangerously close to belonging.
When I walk in, the room goes quiet.
Then people stand.
One by one, they come to me. Some bow their heads. Some clasp their fists to their chests. Some just look at me with gratitude so raw it hurts.
“Thank you.”
“You saved my son.”
“We owe you our lives.”
Hands touch my arm, my shoulder, not possessive, not fearful. Just… thankful.
I stand there stunned, my chest tight.
I’ve never had this.
Acceptance.
And it terrifies me more than the nightmare ever could.
Because for the first time, a part of me wonders.
What if I belong here?
And I don’t know if that thought is more dangerous than the beast inside me.