Chapter Fifty-Three

I didn't know whether it was relief or terror when darkness started giving way to the frail light of morning.

I wanted this day to be over with. I wanted this day to never come.

Weren't weddings supposed to be happy events? The beginning of something hopeful? Not for anybody but Annecy.

There she was again, making me feel sorry for Stride. If for nothing else, I hated her for that. I didn't want to feel sorry for him. He didn't deserve it.

Though it still wasn't easy to imagine him locked away somewhere in the mansion, drugged out of his mind and helpless for what was to come. He had hurt me, insulted me, threatened me. Hell, I had almost killed him myself. At least I would’ve made it quick.

How was she planning to kill him when the time came to take her place as Alpha?

And were we all supposed to watch?

It was useless to think about those things, but then I was only trying to distract myself from the problem that had loomed over me for the better part of three days. Connolly would be there. How was I supposed to get close to him? How was I going to kill him?

Aimes stirred at my side. I pried my attention from the window, where I was staring out at the lightening sky, in favor of watching him sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he was heartbreakingly beautiful.

I wouldn't let Annecy hurt him. No way. He could take care of himself if it was a one-on-one battle, or even two or three-on-one. I had seen what he was capable of. He could kick ass in and out of his wolf form, so long as it was a fair fight.

But nothing Annecy ever did was fair. She would find a way to make it impossible for him—for us—to win.

I had to come through for him, if for no other reason than to protect him.

“I'll try,” I whispered.

He lay on his back, a sculpted arm flung over his head, his mouth partly open as his chest rose in soft, rhythmic breaths. My heart swelled with affection and pride, that familiar tug toward him like a living thing inside my chest.

My mate. Mine. I wasn't about to let her touch him. I would kill Connolly ten times over if that was what it took.

I only had to figure out how.

As usual, I looked inside myself. Hey, remember me? I asked my wolf.

Big surprise. I didn’t get any answer. Not so much as a soft growl to tell me she was there. I knew she had to be in there somewhere though.

But whenever I thought a lot about it, the image of a brick wall came to mind. Was that her way of trying to send me a message? That she was locked away due to Connolly’s spell or whatever he’d put into place over the mansion to trap all Moon wolves inside their owners?

Or maybe it was a message that I was going to have to keep smashing my head against a brick wall for an eternity. That was what it felt like I was doing.

Aimes stirred, and I rushed back toward him, crawled under the covers, and rolled onto my side, facing him. When he opened his eyes, I grinned. It was exciting, watching him wake up. Corny? Most definitely. But knowing it was corny didn't do anything to erase my happiness.

For a moment, I could pretend it was just us. No craziness, no danger.

As soon as he saw I was awake, he pulled me close, growling softly, nuzzling my neck. I inhaled him—his warmth, his violets and sea spray during a thunderstorm scent. It was already as familiar to me as the back of my hand.

In moments like this, I couldn't figure out how I ever tried to convince myself there wasn't anything between us. It was so obvious, right there in front of me. I might as well have tried to deny gravity.

“How did you sleep?” he murmured before pressing his lips to my temple, my jaw, my throat.

“Do we have to talk about anything?” I asked, wrapping myself even closer to him.

He snorted. “That well, huh?”

“Just keep kissing me, okay?”

“Okay… If I have to…” Laughter rumbled in his chest, and the sound loosened some of my tension, easing some of my fears.

The laughter didn't last long when our mouths met, when his tongue touched mine and swept me away on a wave of pure, carnal need. I would never not want him—I knew that just as I knew my own name. It was a simple fact, something that couldn't be fought.

Now, I wanted him more than ever. While he kissed me so skillfully, slowly, like he had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do but taste, touch, enjoy.

Worship.

He ran a hand down my side, hauling me closer so I was pressed against his thick sparkle cock. The feel of it against my belly ignited a blaze deep in my core.

I rolled onto my back, and he followed, draping one leg between mine. I hooked a thigh around his waist, savoring his sexy groan as he ground himself against my hip. A surge of electric energy raced through me because there was nothing that made me feel more powerful than knowing I could do this to him. Knowing he was fully in this moment with me, that there was nothing else on his mind but our connection. Of pleasuring and being pleasured.

“So good, Harlow,” he whispered, roaming my body with his hands, caressing, stroking, my skin sizzling with every touch. “How are you so perfect?”

I laughed softly even as my heart pulsed for him. Perfect. He thought I was perfect.

“How can I be perfect if I have a crack in my ass?”

He raised his head, brows lifted, and reached beneath me to palm said crack, his fingers teasing my already drenched pussy. “You mean this one?”

“That’s the one,” I said with a breathy moan.

“Still perfect.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his shaft, so hard and yet so silky under my fingers.

I stroked him, needier with every passing moment.

He closed his eyes and groaned, his hips pumping wildly. “That’s it,” he muttered, his teeth clenched. “Just like that.”

He lowered his head to plant burning kisses over my throat, my chest, my breasts. It was the most natural thing in the world, being wrapped up with him like this. No barriers between us. No embarrassment, no hesitation.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” I sighed, stroking his hair. “My bookstore god.”

He raised his head, smiling lovingly. “I’m glad it’s you,” he whispered before covering my mouth with his and nudging my legs farther apart. “My good, good girl.”

I was so wet for him, practically dripping down the insides of my thighs, so he had no trouble dragging himself through my slit before driving himself into me. Every single one of his piercings dragged deliciously through my folds.

We moaned together, both of us going still for a second as we processed the sensation of being locked together this way. Aimes lowered himself, his arms under my shoulders, holding me close as he began to move inside me.

Every thrust was magic, pulling me deeper into bliss. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to it, letting go of everything else.

Trying to let go of everything else.

I didn’t want to think. I only wanted to feel.

Still, as much as I wanted to concentrate solely on how Aimes lit me up from the inside out, visions kept flashing in front of me.

“Oh, fuck…” he groaned, driving himself deeper.

I heard him, but he sounded far away, or like we were in an impenetrable fog that distorted his voice.

I couldn’t see him anywhere. No, instead, I saw a circle of women standing beneath a full moon. They clustered around a fire in the middle of the street.

When I stepped closer, none of them reacted to my presence. Of course, it was only a vision, like a dream. Extremely vivid, but still. I wasn’t really here.

Their chanting grew louder, and I heard it everywhere. Inside me, shoving outward, mounting in power and volume by the second. Whatever they were saying filled me with a potent charge.

I slammed back into the present, and with strength I didn’t know I had, I flipped Aimes over so he lay on his back and I straddled him.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, his eyes widening. “Such a good girl.”

My hips moved of their own accord, lifting and pushing him even deeper, harder. I threw my head back, the new angle driving me insane. His Prince Albert piercing on his tip rubbed every nerve so, so right.

Aimes grabbed my hips and held me in place, thrusting more forcefully until I could feel him swell inside me. My orgasm peaked just as his did, and it felt like my entire body lit up.

He growled as he came, neither of us slowing as we rode out our combined pleasure wave. He grabbed my hips as I met each thrust with an equal measure of force.

Another orgasm was within my reach, edging me closer and closer, until I crashed into my second climax with a loud cry. Then we both spilled into each other’s embrace, panting heavily and trembling from aftershocks that seemed to never end.

It was only when we had finally come down from our high that Aimes pulled away from me slightly, wearing a dazed smile.

"Damn," he said. “I’ve never been manhandled quite like that before. I was airborne there for a minute when you flipped me around.”

I didn’t know what to tell him. My thoughts were a frenzied race, leading to one question after another.

What had I seen?

What was my wolf trying to tell me?

How was it going to help me get through this wedding and kill Connolly?