Varg lifted me from the wet marble and the water in one swift motion, as if I were a feather—a weightless, fragile thing in his massive arms. As the water cascading from our soaked bodies splashed against the floor, he pressed me against his chest so hard that the primal heat of his scarred skin felt like it was being stitched into my ice-cold, yet internally burning, flesh. The chilly air of the hallway bit into my skin like a thousand needles after the suffocating steam of the bath.
I was trembling, but within Varg's embrace, the only thing I truly felt was the raw, jolting vibration of the violence he was trying to suppress. His muscles had hardened like steel; every footstep he took against the marble echoed through the silent mansion like the herald of an approaching storm.
The way he carried me wasn't out of tenderness—it was a declaration of ownership, silent and relentless, like a wolf carrying its prey to its den.
The hallway was steaming from our collective heat; the mist rising from our skin as it touched the cold air swirled together. This mad fire nesting in our loins was scorching my reason, enslaving us both.
Varg kicked the heavy wooden bedroom door shut with a violent thud.
Darkness had settled into every corner like a thick fog; only the fading crimson glow from the hearth illuminated the terrifying yet mesmerizing desire on Varg's face and the pitch-black void in his eyes.
He dropped me onto the center of that massive, high bed. The sheets instantly clung to my skin under the weight of my wet body, leaving no space between my flesh and the fabric.
Why did the touch of cold, wet cloth feel so intoxicating?
Why did I crave to crawl deeper into his massive frame rather than resist him?
Why was I desperate to be stained with his scent even in the breath in my lungs or the blood in my veins? The agonizing, sweet ache of the heat twisted into a knot at the pit of my stomach, creating a throbbing hunger in my womb.
Varg stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at me. Water dripping from his wet hair slid down his broad chest, weaving through his muscles before disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.
His legendary scarred skin looked even more savage in the hearth's red glow. His eyes... those eyes no longer belonged to a man.
He was now the starving wolf from the darkest corners of the forest, and his prey lay right before him, defenseless. His pupils had dilated so much that the famous ember-colored ring was but a thin halo; a pitch-black abyss was preparing to swallow me whole.
And I was walking into the flames, ready to vanish in this naked, midnight darkness, leaving my pride and fear on that marble floor.
"You can still run from me!" Varg growled.
His voice was an animalistic threat that sliced through the silence of the night like a blade. He braced his knees on either side of me, the bed sinking under his immense weight, the sheets tightening over me.
"You can still run to that door and follow your friends, Vespera. But if you stay in this bed... if you keep mind-f-cking me with your scent, that damn Omega scent... I will bury you in this darkness. I won't be able to protect you even from myself...."
"Do you understand? By the end of this night, there will be nothing left of me but a monster."
"I'm not going," I moaned, writhing on the bed like a serpent.
I was drunk on the intoxication of the heat. My skin grew more sensitive with every passing second; even the texture of the sheet was painful.
"You locked the doors, Varg. But you placed the real lock on my heart. Don't leave me alone with this fire... Leave your damn pride and your ghosts and come to me. Only you can quench this pain. Only your mark can stop this throbbing."
Varg hissed a single curse and leaned over me. His hands buried themselves into my wet hair, pulling my head back to force me to look at him.
His lips were millimeters away from my burning ones, but he didn't kiss me.
He only breathed his hot, wild breath against my skin, driving me to the brink of insanity. A kiss might have shattered me, but his breath grazing my skin caused deep earthquakes in my soul.
"I want you," he whispered, his voice dark and broken like a confession.
"I want to sink my teeth into that beautiful neck of yours, to feel the taste of your blood on my tongue, to bind your soul to this house forever. But I won't. I will see you submit to me by your own desire alone, without marking you, without sinking these damn fangs into your skin. You will share this pain, this fire, with me... unmarked."
These words opened a wound in my soul deeper than any mark.
There was no bond, no blood tie; only carnal pleasure and Varg's hunger for possession. I let out a pained moan, but I wanted so much more.
The innocent Vespera from those forest cabins was long dead; now, there was an Omega in love with this monster before her, thirsting for the darkness.
"Destroy me..." I said, involuntarily. "Destroy me if you wish."
Varg growled with a voice that had lost all control. "You will suffer, but you will want only me. I will be the fire in your loins, Vespera."
His fingers began to wander across my wet and hot skin with agonizing, torturous slowness. They descended from my collarbones to the center of my ribcage.
Every touch was firm enough to leave a bruise, yet possessive. The void inside me deepened with his rough touch. I yearned to wrap my legs around his waist, to pull him completely onto me, and to be crushed under that massive torso.
I could have fallen at his feet and prayed for a thousand torments just to belong to him more.
If pain was to come, it had to come from him. And I had to feel it in every cell, down to my marrow, as I writhed beneath him.
"Look at me," he commanded, wrapping his fingers around my chin to turn my face to him.
"Look into my eyes. There are no glittering city streets tonight. No forest cabins where you came from. There is only you and me." He continued with a deep breath that felt like it pierced my lungs.
"Tonight, there is only my darkness and my unquenchable, filthy hunger for you. Do you really want this? Do you want your soul to be crushed under a monster like me?"
"I want it..." I whispered, unaware of the tears in my eyes and the drunkenness of the heat. "I want you, Varg. Break me, burn me, do not deprive me of yourself."
A low rumble spilled from Varg's throat.
He leaned down and buried himself in my neck, right over my carotid artery. He pressed his fangs there; I could feel them, those sharp tips beginning to crush my skin.
My veins throbbed in anticipation of the mating venom, my heart jumped into my throat.
But he didn't. He only bit; he carved that sharp pain into my skin, claiming his property but not drawing blood. An unmarked bite—a declaration of carnal pleasure and dominance.
It hurt, but the pain, merging with the fire of the heat, drove me even wilder. His hands wrapped around the curves of my waist, jolting me and burying me into the pillows.
The pressure on me increased until I lost my breath. As his massive, scarred chest rubbed against my breasts, the fire of the heat turned into an inferno.
His hands memorized every inch of my body like a map, his rough fingers claiming ownership over my hips.
His teeth did not pierce through. But between those wet sheets, beneath Varg's massive and scarred body, all the doors of my soul opened to him.
This was much more than a physical union; it was two wild souls burning in each other's fire. As our sweat mingled, that single word he whispered into my ear was branded into my mind.
"Mine."