Chapter 273 Affected
(Adelaide & Caelum)
“I think about it,” he said quietly. “More than I should.”
As Cael spoke, his shadows traced the path of his voice, slipping up from her calves in a slow, hungry climb, coiling behind her knees before gliding higher along her thighs—not quite touching, not quite gone, a constant presence that made her body hyperaware of every inch of skin they passed.
Her eyes closed for a fraction of a second, her head tilting instinctively toward the sound of him behind her.
“About what?” she asked, though her body already knew.
His answer came slower. More deliberate.
“About what it would be like,” he said, “to stop holding back.”
He shifted, shoulder brushing the air just behind hers, stirring the space so the heat of her wings tangled with the cool drag of his shadows, sliding across her skin. His words moved through her like a pulse of heat, settling low and deep.
Her pulse jumped.
Her thighs pressed together, instinctive and involuntary, posture tightening as awareness of herself—and of him—spiked, sharp as a blade drawn too close.
Cael saw it.
Felt it.
His shadows reacted, not tightening but tracking, slipping inward along the line of her legs as though drawn by the change, curling briefly at the inside of her knee before drifting away again. Only to return in a slow, circling sweep that pushed the limits of boundaries they had never set.
“About what your pretty mouth would look like wrapped around my cock,” he hissed, the words rough, dragged out of him.
As the words left him, he stepped in—close enough for the heat of his body to press against her back, close enough to make her shoulders draw tight, her breath thinning to a thread.
The shadows lifted higher.
They traced the curve of her hip, paused, then slipped away again, only to return along her side in a slow, deliberate climb that made her stomach tighten.
“Do you want to see?” Adelaide breathed.
Her voice wavered just slightly, not from uncertainty, but from the strain of holding herself still while everything in her wanted to lean back into him.
“I want to see a lot of things,” Cael answered.
He moved again, completing the circle, coming into her line of sight once more. His gaze dragged over her as he spoke, slow and consuming, his shadows mirroring it—sliding across her shoulders, trailing down her arms, curling briefly around her wrists before slipping free again.
“I want to see the sweat gather on your back as I take your body from behind. I want to see how the marks of my claws would look painted on your pale skin.”
Adelaide’s breath deepened, her chest rising more visibly now, the rhythm of it no longer steady. Her fingers flexed at her sides, then stilled, then flexed again as though she were resisting the urge to reach for him.
“I want that too.”
The words left her softer than she meant, but not weaker—if anything, it sharpened her, chin lifting even as her body leaned a fraction closer.
“I want to taste the softest parts of your flesh. I want to sink my fangs into your pretty pink nipples. I want to lick you from head to toe, taste every inch of your desire. I want to die with my face buried between your luscious thighs and my tongue deep within your cunt.”
As he spoke, his shadows answered each word.
They moved in slow, deliberate paths across her body, never settling long enough to become touch, but never leaving her untouched either. They traced the line of her collarbone, drifted down the valley of her breasts, climbed along the centre of her spine, curled around her waist, and then slipped away again. Each pass was a suggestion. A promise. A show of restraint.
Adelaide’s head tipped back slightly as one of the darker tendrils brushed along the side of her neck, her breath catching as her wings shivered behind her, the white-gold flame flickering brighter in response.
Her body moved before her mind caught up—weight shifting, knees softening and parting, her breath unravelling as sensation layered thick and hot over itself.
“They don’t answer to the leash,” he added, almost thoughtfully, as the darkness slid once more along her skin, coiling and uncoiling like something alive. “Not the way I do.”
The shadows pulled back, just enough to make their absence ache.
Somehow, that felt worse.
That thought alone was dangerous.
Adelaide swallowed, her throat working to slow. Her gaze was fixed on him as the space between them pulsed with everything they hadn’t yet dared do.
And everything they might.
She could feel herself.
Not just the awareness of him, but the undeniable response of her own body—the warmth gathering low and deep in her belly, the slick heat coating her inner thighs that made her shift her weight without meaning to. Her breath had lost all rhythm, coming faster now, shallower, her chest rising and falling in uneven pulls as her pulse hammered hard enough she could feel it in her wrists, in her throat, in the delicate space beneath her ribs.
The ache was no longer subtle. It gathered with intent, coiling low and insistent, each pulse tightening her body around a need she . An insistent throb that made her fingers curl and her knees soften just slightly, her body searching for something—pressure, friction, relief—that she refused to give herself.
The ache was no longer subtle. It gathered with purpose, coiling low and tight, each pulse winding her body around a need she had not yet allowed herself to answer. An insistent throb of her pulse that curled her fingers, softened her knees, her body hunting for pressure, friction, relief she would not yet allow.
She needed to move, to touch, to feel. Anything would be better than the taunting ghosting of his shadow's touch. Be it claws along her flesh, teeth buried in her skin, fingers bruising her thighs. Her body screamed for sensation. Any sensation.
Her gaze stayed locked on him.
And for a moment—just a moment—doubt flickered.
Because Cael hadn’t moved.
Hadn’t stepped forward. Hadn’t broken. Hadn’t taken that final inch.
The thought slid in, quiet and dangerous.
Is he not affected?
Her eyes dropped before she could stop them.
And found the answer immediately.
The line of his body was rigid now, not composed but barely contained. Tension pulled tight through every inch of him. The fabric at his crotch strained visibly, the hard outline beneath it unmistakable, shifting with each breath he forced in.
Her breath caught.