Chapter 31 THE FORBIDDEN TOUCH
The drive back to the palace was silent. No rock music. No wind. Just the muffled growl of the engine and a new, cold wall between them.
Occurs through union.
That sentence sat in the car like an invisible passenger. Dorian gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He kept his eyes on the road, but Serra knew his mind was back in that cellar, trapped in the pages of that book.
It was past midnight when they reached the palace. Under the cold fluorescent lights of the garage, he cut the engine. But he didn't get out.
"Tonight," Dorian said, his voice like ice. He wouldn't look at her. "You sleep in your own room, Serra."
Serra unbuckled her seatbelt. The metallic click echoed in the garage. "Don't be stupid, Dorian. Vespera is still alive. The threat isn't over."
"I am the threat!" he shouted, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. He turned to her. His eyes were wild, rimmed with lava-red fear. "You read it, Serra. That book wasn't lying. Every time I touch you... every time I kiss you... I'm not feeding you. I'm poisoning you. I'm pouring that thing into you."
He opened the door and got out. Serra followed him. He was walking fast toward the elevator, running away from her.
"You can't run!" she yelled, grabbing his arm.
Dorian yanked his arm away. He flinched as if her touch had burned him. "Don't touch me," he snarled. "I won't touch you again. That seed... I won't let it take you. If the only way to protect you is to stay away, then damn it, I will."
The elevator doors opened. He stepped in and hit the button. As the doors closed, their eyes met. There was no Alpha command in that look; only a man’s goodbye.
(LOCKED DOORS AND HUNGER)
That night, the door to Dorian’s private apartment was locked. Not just locked—sealed.
In her own room, in that vast, empty bed, Serra tossed and turned. Her body craved his warmth, his dangerous weight. It wasn't just love; it was an addiction woven into her cells. Her Red Alpha blood pulled toward his seal.
At 3:00 AM, she couldn't take it anymore.
She got out of bed. She walked into the corridor. The palace was silent. Guards watched from the shadows, but they didn't stop her. She was the Luna.
She reached Dorian’s door. Her hand went to the handle. Locked.
"Dorian," she whispered to the wood. "I know you're awake."
No sound from inside. But she could smell him. He was right behind the door. Standing there.
"Open the door," she said. "This isn't protecting us. This is killing us."
"Go away, Serra," Dorian said. His voice was muffled through the wood. "Please. Go."
Serra rested her forehead against the door. "I don't care what that seed wants. My father's notes could be incomplete. What if they're wrong? What if the union doesn't strengthen it? What if... we share it and destroy it?"
"I can't risk you."
"Don't decide for me!" she shouted, slamming her hand against the door. "I am not a victim. I am your partner. If we burn, we burn together."
The handle turned slowly.
(THE ALLURE OF THE FORBIDDEN)
The door opened.
Dorian was there. He was wearing only sweatpants. His chest was bare, and that damn seal... God, it was glowing like madness. The veins had turned pitch black, climbing up his neck. The seed was punishing Dorian for his resistance.
The way he looked at her... like a starving wolf looks at a lamb. But also with pure terror.
"Don't," he said, his voice trembling. "Don't come in."
Serra took a step. She crossed the threshold.
"Stop me," she said. "If you really don't want this, use your power and stop me."
Dorian didn't move. His chest heaved. The air between them was charged with static. Serra walked up to him. She raised her hand and placed it right over that blackened, throbbing seal.
The moment they touched, a pained groan ripped from Dorian’s throat. His knees buckled. Serra caught him. They sank to the floor together, onto the rug.
"Do you see?" she whispered, cupping his face. "I'm not poisoning you. I'm soothing you."
And it was true. With her touch, the black veins began to recede, the angry violet light of the seal fading into a soft silver.
Dorian looked at her. There were tears in his eyes. "This... this feels too good," he said, guiltily. "For it to feel this good... it must be wrong."
"Let it be wrong," she said, and she kissed him.
This kiss wasn't savage. It was slow. Forbidden. Like dancing on the edge of a cliff. Dorian’s hands found her waist, trembling, then gave in and pulled her close.
They didn't make love that night. Her father's warning hung like a sword over both their heads. But they stayed there on the rug, wrapped in each other's arms, surviving the night in that grey area where curse and love mingled.
Because whatever that seed was, they weren't going to let it hunt them separately