Hekate’s Bride

“No. No!” I yell, kicking at him, struggling with his arms that seem to cage me further.

My knee strikes out, slamming into his torso, but he barely flinches, instead catching it and setting it apart from my other knee, spreading me bare before him.

I go into full panic mode, yelling my head off, even if I know no one can hear me. Perks of being a lycan prince comes with a room that’s soundproof.

His fingers snake between my thighs, and my body reacts involuntarily to his touch, a collision of fear and desire that clashes within me.

Sloan is mewling and purring and her excitement is clashing with my wild panic, creating a horrendous mix of feelings I do not understand.

*Mate,* she whispers, and I know I’m in deep shit.

His eyes flash black for a fleeting moment, his entire body going rigid as he shuts them. I back away from him in this moment, or try to, because his eyes snap open again, clear as day and he says coolly, “Stay.”

My mind shuts down. My body shudders and begins to relax, conforming to the command in his tone. I wrestle with myself and try to force a reaction from within. My body won’t listen to me. Instead, it succumbs to him; his touch; his fingers that part my legs as if preparing for a feast.

This is not how I envisioned my first time with Rune-yes, I’ve imagined it countless times, dreamed of it even.

I ache for him, with a longing that defies reason. He consumes my thoughts. saturating every waking moment, his scent lingering in my senses, infiltrating my dreams, leaving me yearning for his touch.

But… not like this. I will not have him like this. Not when my will is compromised. Not when I can’t even give my consent.

Claws dig into my hip and I suck in a sharp breath when his fingertips begin toying with the lacy fabric that happens to be the only thing shielding the wetness pooling in my core from him.

“Did you think of me when you put this on?” he demands, tugging at the fabric, his voice thick with tension.

Silence hangs heavy in the air as my breaths come in ragged gasps, unable to form coherent words.

“Answer me!” he orders.

“Yes,” I grit out, my fists clenched tightly.

“Tell me what your thoughts were,” he whispers, his palm pressing firmly against my quivering belly. His words carry an irresistible power, compelling me to comply, to bare my soul.

Tears well in my eyes as I surrender to the truth, betraying myself, confessing the illicit fantasies that plagued me in the solitude of my room, the thoughts that infiltrated my mind as I picked my underwear tonight.

I continue speaking, unfiltered and vulnerable, baring my deepest desires until nothing remains concealed.

Rune remains motionless, his unreadable gaze fixed upon me, his hands hovering above my belly, poised with unspoken intent.

A single tear glides down my cheek, pooling on the bed beside me. Rune’s gaze intensifies, hardening with resolve.

“Close your eyes.”

“Rune, please. I’ll leave. Right now-I’m sorry,” I plead. His eyes are so cold, I can’t stand them.

“Close your eyes, Astrid.”

His voice takes on an ethereal quality, layered with power and an unspoken demand. I cannot refuse him. My eyelids droop against my will, and I tremble uncontrollably as I feel him pull off my boots, slowly, like I’d imagined earlier.

“Fuck you. Go to hell,” I whisper as the last of my will, my defiance slips from me.

He chuckles bitterly and my heart pounds painfully in my chest when his lips brush against my ankle. “I live in hell, Red.”

Sobs escape my throat as his scorching kisses ascend my calf, my fingers clutching the sheets that bear his intoxicating scent. A moan escapes me as his sharp canines graze the tender flesh of my inner thigh.

Desperately, I reach for him, my hands seeking solace in his touch, but he seizes my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand.

With his other hand-

The sound of fabric ripping fills the air and my thong suddenly feels loose around my waist. My breaths become harsh as I realize what he is doing.

It had been one silly thought about one hour ago, and now, he is making me live through every moment of it.

His fingers trail along my inner thigh, venturing perilously higher, and a low, guttural groan escapes him as he encounters the wet stain on my trembling flesh. He teases, tracing circles around my heated core, driving me to writhe, to sweat, to plead.

Eagerly, I arch my hips, yearning for more as he ventures further, his thumb stroking my entrance. I shudder uncontrollably as his fingers glide over my delicate folds, tormenting me, teasing me, setting me ablaze.

Laboured breaths escape me, my body instinctively moving against his skilled touch, aching for him to rid me of the throbbing ache between my thighs.

Gasping, I clutch at the sheets, my body jerking as he fills me, my vision shrouded in darkness, heightening my senses to a fevered pitch. I writhe with an insatiable need, parting my legs willingly, pleading with him to claim me.

As he slowly pumps into me, his lips trace a scorching trail along my neck, descending to the neckline of my top, tugging it down to expose more of my heated skin.

Another rip, and my top is reduced to tatters, my breasts spilling free from the remnants of my torn bra. My back arches, craving the touch of his tongue against my hardened nipples.

“Please,” I whimper, unsure of what I’m pleading for as his fingers slow within me, moving in a tormenting rhythm that has me growling.

I feel his breath, hot and heavy, caresses my ear and his lips curl into a dark smirk. “Tell me, do I meet your expectations?” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive spot behind my ear and fire erupts in my core when his canines nick my shoulder.

He does. He exceeds every expectation, but I’d be damned if I told him that.

“Do I?” he asks again, flicking my skin with his tongue.

“Yes,” I purr and my cheeks flame at the embarrassing sounds I make.

“I will take my hand off now,” he says, and I vaguely register his words as an additional fingers slides into my heat, stretching me further. I clench hard around them and he releases a sharp sigh. “Should you touch me, I will stop. We do not want that, do we?”

“No,” I breathe.

Never have I been this hopeless in the arms of a man. Usually, I like being in control. I love taking the lead, and I have always gotten my way.

This is new for me. I have no control over my body or my words anymore. Everything is his to take, his to use as he pleases. I want him to. I’d do anything he asks of me, so long he doesn’t stop touching me. As long as he soothes this horrible, horrible ache that has built up everyday since he kissed me three years ago.

His grip loosens around my hands, but I leave them there, above my head, knowing how much I want to put my hands in his beautiful hair; how much I want to kiss him until I can’t breathe anymore; how much I want to feel his skin with my fingertip, hold him close.

But I can’t risk him stopping. Not when I am aflame.

I jerk when his mouth closes around a nipple, and a sharp cry escapes me when his fingers within me dance in tempo to his tongue lapping on my nipple.

Waves, and waves of pleasure crash through me with each stroke, each caress. I crave this. Him. I do not think there is a time in my life that I have not.

My eyes flutter close and I bite on my lower lip to keep from moaning loud as a horse.

My inner muscles clench so hard, I think I am close to the edge.

But just then, Rune pulls away from me. His hand slips out and he pushes off me.

I whimper in protest, beginning to rise on my elbows to look at him, but his tongue suddenly parts my folds and my answering growl is loud enough to rattle the bed frame.

He sucks on my folds, before his tongue laps on my centre, tip circling my entrance and pulling out, working me to heights I have never known with any male.

I start to scramble back as it overwhelms me. My needs, my feelings, my ache, I can’t take this much at once, or process it.

But Rune holds me in place, gripping my thighs hard and buries his face deeper, as well as his tongue.

I shiver, I moan, I cry, I beg. He ravages me, leaving me no room to catch a breath, or run. Fuck, I could die happy from this.

My spine arches and I brace the edge of the bed, needing an anchor through every moment as his pumps me harder, tongue stiffening. Sloan’s hunger becomes a powerful thing that has me crying out and moving against him, matching his speed.

I give in to it, the burning, sinful lust. The pleasure. His beautiful mouth that devours me mercilessly.

“Rune!” My knees buck as heat blazes through me, destroying my world and tossing whatever is left of it into oblivion. I arch off the bed, very nearly, but Rune’s hold on my thigh keeps me from falling.

I am a quivering hot mess of spasms and moans. I shudder severely, ripping out the rest of his bedsheets with claws that I hadn’t realized were out.

I am still coming off the high when Rune straightens, leaving me cold and alone.

My eyes snap open and I squint around the room that’s a tad too bright, to find him walking to his dresser. He retrieves a blue shirt from it, ripping it off its hanger.

He’s getting dressed? Why? This is the part where I… I don’t know… isn’t it like my turn or something?

I push up on my elbows. “Rune?”

Without looking at me, he tosses the shirt in my direction. “Wear that and leave.”

I catch it before it can hit my face. “But we just–”

“You sought me out for release. I have given you that.” He tilts his head toward the door, eyes empty of emotion. “Out. Or if you’d prefer the window, you can leave from there also. We are done here.”

My throat closes painfully and I slip off the bed, fisting his shirt. “You think I came here to get off? To find release? A fucking whore, yeah?”

He says nothing, staring at me with those cold eyes that keep breaking my heart. My temper spikes and I hurl the stupid shirt at him. He makes no move to stop it. It hits his chest and drops to the ground between us. “What then was that? A boon? Shall I pay you for it?”NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

A flicker of something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher its meaning. Something slides down my cheek and I realize again that I am crying. So fucking stupid to think that meant something to him.

With a mixture of frustration and despair, I turn away and pull the torn bedsheet from the bed. “I came here… Fuck. I was so stupid. I thought we could talk, that I could finally reach you and comprehend your pain. I believed that I could ease it a little. I thought we could discuss this bond, I would tell you I wanted it, regardless of who and what you are, and that we would face it together. But I was a fool. You’re a monster, Rune, and it has nothing to do with Hekate’s presence within you. You are the worst kind of scum that exists and this is the last time you humiliate me.”

I wrap the sheet around my trembling form, baring my teeth fiercely at him. “Never again.”

Still, Rune remains silent, an unyielding statue, his eyes fixed on me as if I hold no significance.

Choking on my sobs, I walk towards the door, every step causing a rip in my heart.

But just as I’m about to leave, I halt my footsteps, ignoring the ache in my heart. I turn back towards him, fueled by a surge of anger.

With all my might, I swing my fist, striking his stupid, perfect nose that I have imagined placing a kiss on, and his head snaps to the side. “Fucker,” I hiss through gritted teeth, my voice laced with fury, before leaving his room.

I wipe my cheeks as I walk back to my room. I won’t cry. He doesn’t deserve it. Neither do I.