Kaelith's eyes slid shut as a low groan rumbled deep in his chest. Fuck, her touch was everything. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, where her skin was just barely exposed, and breathed her in. His breath was hot against her, and she felt a shiver start to build right there. With a possessive growl that vibrated through her, he caught the edge of her shirt between his lips and tugged, pushing the fabric aside, exposing more of her.
That's what he needed. Her faint scent—sweet, dangerous, maddening—wrapped around him until it was all he could breathe.
His mouth found that soft, perfect spot on her neck. He sucked lightly, just enough to make her gasp, then dragged his teeth across her skin and nibbled in a slow, teasing way in a way that was pure torture. It sent a shiver racing down her spine.
Isaldora's eyes squeezed shut, her composure? slipping right through her fingers. Her skin tingled everywhere his lips moved, the warmth of his breath trailing literal fire over her. Every scrape of his teeth shot electric sparks straight down her spine, and she arched into him before her brain could scream stop.
She wanted to push him away, to keep her control, but her fingers were traitors, clinging to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her body was a goddamn betrayal. This had started as a simple touch, a way to calm the storm in him, but now? Now it was a runaway train, and the destination terrified her almost as much as the dizzying pleasure coiling hot in her veins.
Kaelith felt her shiver in his hold, and a wave of pure, primal satisfaction spread through him. She was affected by the bond after all—It was there, and her body's response proved it, screaming to be claimed. The way she was giving in, even slightly, filled him—and his wolf—with a fierce, primal joy. His wolf growled in approval, pushing at him, urging him to hold her tighter and not let go.
"Did Adrien—and his father—make it out alive?" Isaldora asked at last. Her voice was surprisingly steady despite the haze of lust clouding her senses. She forced her composure back into place, masking the storm inside her, even though she knew he'd already seen right through it.
Her words made him pause. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes narrowing in surprise before a flicker of dark amusement passed through them.
For a moment, he almost thought she meant it as a joke or a moment spoiler. But her face held no humor—just plain, dark curiosity, with a faint flush of heat high on her cheeks.
Catching his reaction, her lips curved into a sly smirk. "What? Don't look at me like that," she teased, tilting her chin up defiantly. "The way you were fuming at them, I was expecting them to end up dead by now." Her smirk was playful but with a sharp, dangerous glint, daring him to deny the simple fact.
And what the hell could he say? She wasn't wrong. Ripping the father and son apart limb by limb had been exactly at the top of his to-do list.
He let out a rich, light chuckle, and damn, did the sound do something to her? Yes, it definitely did. Heat stirred low in her belly, an ache she refused to acknowledge. Instead, she held on to her smirk, though she felt her pulse trip over itself in betrayal.
Kaelith's gaze didn't leave her, something dark and unreadable moving in his eyes as his thumb grazed along the line of her jaw. And for a moment, he looked at her. Beautiful didn't begin to cover her—there was a somewhat dangerous edge to her, something untouchable. The way her lips curved when she teased, the spark in her eyes, the way she could steady his raging wolf without even trying—like she just got him, knowing exactly what to do. It was completely intoxicating.
"You talk about me killing like it's nothing," he said at last, his voice low, threaded with dark amusement. "Doesn't it scare you? Or does it... excite you instead?"
She tilted her head, that infuriating smirk never slipping. "Maybe," she said, giving a small, casual shrug. "What can I say? I might be just full of surprises."
His thumb was still on her jaw, his gaze heavy, like he was trying to see past all her walls and right into her soul. He was quiet for a long moment as he gathered his thoughts, and she could feel the frustration rolling off him in hot, agitated waves.
Finally, he drew in a sharp breath.
"I don't know how much you really understand about our world," he started, his voice low and steady but with a hard edge. His hand moved down to the curve of her arm, then back up to trace the line of her neck, like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded. And honestly, he really did.
"Those people you saw earlier…" he began, jaw tight, his gaze locked on hers. "That's the council. They're like the leaders from every group in our world. The governing body of all our kind, the ones who pass judgment, set laws, and keep order."
"They're not just leaders—they're the law, and above them stand the royals— who carry the highest authority."
Isaldora just nodded, humming lightly like she was listening to a boring podcast. She was so not interested in this shit. She didn't need the lecture—she knew exactly who the council was. But Kaelith didn't know that, so she let him talk. Let him vent.
"My pack, Duskhowl, is the royal pack of werewolves. That's what makes me royalty." He let that sink in, his eyes locked with hers, searching for any flicker of surprise—but there was nothing.
"In the same way, Adrien and Victor are royalty of the vampire bloodline—" His tone dropped, growing darker now as he continued further. "Adrien is the prince, Victor their king. Every faction has its rulers. The council exists to bring those leaders together, to maintain this fragile peace." His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
His hand brushed along the side of her face again before settling at her neck, his thumb resting on her pulse. "But they weren't thrilled," he muttered, the memory fueling his anger all over again. "Not even a little bit thrilled about me having a human mate." His voice was pure irritation, his frustration palpable.
His jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a hard line, and the tension in his shoulders came back with a vengeance. How fucking dare they? Who did they think they were to look at her like she was nothing? To judge her? To question a bond that was destined? The sheer audacity of those council members, trying to impose their authority, openly disrespecting her…it made his blood boil. If the council had begun to think too highly of its own authority, he'd be more than happy to remind them of their place.
And then there were Adrien and Victor. Their interference… Victor's open hostility toward her… The way the vampire king had looked her up and down like she was trash—it made Kaelith's vision tinge with red. He could still feel the sting of that condescension.
"They think their opinion matters," he growled, the sound low and vicious. "That they can tell me who I should or shouldn't choose."
Isaldora saw the raw rage flash in his eyes, heard the shift in his breathing. But her own expression didn't change. It was calm, cool, completely unreadable—like none of this mattered to her. Her fingers had been trailing lightly along the back of his neck, the faintest graze of her nails against his skin to keep him in check.
Kaelith's wolf was right there, itching to break free, to lash out, but her touch was like an anchor. It grounded him, dousing the fire inside him just enough to keep him from exploding. The faint, calculated touch worked like ice on fire—slowing the storm inside him, dulling the edge of his rage.
He exhaled, a long, heavy breath, and leaned into her. His forehead brushed against hers before he nuzzled back into her neck; her hair smelled like heaven, just like her. His teeth grazed her skin slowly, then he kissed and sucked lightly, each movement draining the load of the tension coiled inside him.
The low growl in his throat faded completely, his aura softening. The anger was still there, smoldering, but it was banked now, replaced by a calm he could only ever find with her. Her touch, her presence, had pulled him back from the edge. Again. It was foolish how easily he could lose his shit the moment it came to her.
Isaldora felt the muscles in his shoulders relax under her fingers. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips—one he couldn't see with his face buried in her neck.
She gently pulled back, tilting her head to look at him. "Calm now?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with something else.
Kaelith let out a low hum, a soft rumble of contentment vibrating through his chest. His grey eyes were clear, focused only on her.
A relieved, almost smug smirk appeared on her lips. "Perfect, then."
And before he could even process it, she pushed him—literally shoved him off her with both hands. He stumbled back a step, his eyes flying wide open. He was totally caught off guard.
She didn't even hesitate. She just turned and walked over to the chair opposite his work table, sitting down like she owned the place. As she settled, her posture was all cool, controlled detachment—a complete one-eighty from the warm, pliant woman in his arms just seconds ago.
"Then… we should start talking about actual important matters now," she said, looking him straight in the eye. Her gaze was cold, focused, and all business.
————
Alright, be honest: who saw that coming? Raise your hand in the comments. ...Anyone?