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This exact reason was why I read, to escape into stories of adventure and lust and soul-consuming passion—everything lacking in my real life. I lived through books, and they mended me for a time, but once they were finished, the hole in my soul returned, the emptiness in my chest that comes with crashing back to reality, reminded of duty and responsibility, rules and confinement.
Well damn, took the words right out of my mouth with that one 😅
It felt as if everything I desired was just out of reach, just barely out of sight, taunting me but never revealing itself, and I was desperately chasing it in every book I devoured.
Just as I stepped over the threshold, something tugged at me, demanding my attention. I glanced up and locked eyes with a devastatingly handsome stranger.
As soon as I read this, I was like MATEEE
As soon as the door closed, it opened again. I froze as a woman entered. When she glanced up, she looked straight at me and I felt everything at once. The pull. The lust. The blinding, overwhelming need. The bond. I was staring at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and she was my mate. I knew it in my soul as we locked eyes.
My mate was General Starrin’s daughter. Human. She was human.
Studying the large house, heat flushed through me as I was reminded of his promise to “provide” for her, my mate. Before I could stop myself, fire sparked at my fingertips.
The giggles that came out reading this, we love a posessive MMC
Goddess, I’d kissed him. The King of Ravaryn. The son of Adrastus. The vicious counterpart to his father. He let me kiss him. Kissed me back, even.
Another shout—distinctly Rogue’s—and something deep tugged me back, insisting I return.
As they dragged me up the stairs, bruising my arms, I felt nothing but betrayal.
His eyes dropped to my arm, narrowing, and I followed his line of sight. In this tunic, a hand print bruise around my bicep was visible, already purpling. He sat forward as his gaze shifted to my other arm, eyeing the matching mark. “I’ll kill them,” he seethed, deathly still, before jerking to his feet and striding to the door, leaving a trail of swirling smoke in his wake.
Suddenly, he gripped my hair, wrapping the strands around his fist, and ripped my head back, exposing my neck. I froze, barely daring to breathe, as he brought his face down and leisurely ran his lips along my neck. “Yes, I guess it did.”
“Ara…” His head shook slowly, holding my gaze with a serious intensity. “She is not human. Not entirely.”
Alden looked at me with a seriousness that, even for him, was unusual. “She is the lost daughter of King Vaelor.”
“Well…” His smirk widened into a grin. “The thought of you on your knees before me is an intriguing thought.”
With a mind of its own, my hand reached back and cracked across his cheek in a hard slap. His head snapped to the side, and he released a low, breathy laugh. “Do not touch me.” His eyes darkened as he rubbed his cheek, and a red handprint began to show. “That should not turn me on.” A vicious grin pulled at his lips. “But fuck…it does.”
I realized his tunic was the same deep blue color as my dress. That sneaky dresser.
Gray eyes… My eyes. The ones that matched no one else in the family. The ones my mother adored.
“You’re mine, just as I am yours. The feeling pulling you towards me? That’s our mate bond.”
But that night, she chose to be with me, and after a lifetime of being hated, forgotten, and alone, in that moment, I had wanted it so badly. I wanted her. A life. A mate. To be chosen. Wanted. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted her to want me.
Ara placed a palm on my cheek and pulled my face back to her. “You are not him,” she whispered.
Orphans. We’re orphans, both raised by men who wished us dead.
“I have no one.” He caught my hands that time, wrapping one hand around the back of my head and pulling me into his chest. I melted into him, unraveling as his scent enveloped me. “Me. You have me.”
“You can be angry. Hell, you should be, but you’ll be angry here. With me. Take it out on me. Take out every ugly, suffocating emotion on me, because I am not letting you go out there to shoulder this alone.” He brought his hands to my cheeks. “You are not alone, Ara.”
“What a pair we are,” I mumbled, lying my head back down on my elbow. “Indeed. What a broken pair.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes following their movement. “Yes, quite beautiful,” I whispered back, my eyes never leaving her.
“This”—his thumb slid down across the mark—“is a symbol of… surrender. I know you believe that it was my claim upon you, but it wasn’t. It never was. I bound my body and soul to you, little storm.”
It’s you. All of you. Your strength and resilience. Your determination to endure no matter what fate throws at you. Your love of love and stories and hope. You are entirely the opposite of everything that I am, and I would gladly wear your shackles if it meant I could have you.”
“If I’m fated to live a life of longing for someone who will never return my affection, I’m glad to long for someone so…worthy.”
“I don’t want you to live another day, or Goddess forbid die, without knowing that I…I love you.”
