Claimed by my Mate’s Brother

Chapter 8: Beneath the Surface

Amara

The cave walls pressed close around us, the fire’s dying embers painting Grayson’s scars in molten gold. My skin still burned where he’d touched me—his lips on my neck, his hands under the hoodie that smelled like pine and violence. Like him.

I should’ve been exhausted. Instead, every nerve hummed, strung tight with anticipation. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands again. The way he’d held me like I was something fragile and precious. Something breakable, yet desired.

Sera paced in my mind, her claws scraping my ribs. “He’s holding back. Why?”

I knew why.

Grayson Blackwood was a storm barely leashed. I’d felt it when he kissed me—the way his fingers trembled against my waist, the growl trapped in his throat. He wanted me. But he thought I was fragile.

The irony burned. Cassian had rejected me for being weak. Grayson hesitated because he feared breaking me.

Neither understood what I truly was.

“You said you saw me before the Trials.” My voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Grayson didn’t move from where he leaned against the far wall, but his eyes—always watching, always hungry—darkened. “I did.”

“Tell me.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You were training with that dagger your mother gave you. The one with the wolf’s-head hilt.”

My breath hitched. He remembered.

“You fought like you were born holding steel,” he continued, stepping closer. “And when you laughed—”

“I never laughed during training.”

“Once.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip, igniting a fresh wave of heat. “Jaxon tripped over his own feet. You tried to hide it, but

your eyes crinkled at the corners.”

I’d forgotten that. Forgotten how joy used to feel before the weight of expectations crushed it.

Grayson’s voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I thought you were made of fire. And I was already burning.”

The confession unraveled me. He hadn’t just watched—he’d memorized me. Studied the details. Seen me in ways no one else ever

had.

My pulse thudded in my ears. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t supposed to want you,” he said, voice raw. “You were meant for my brother. At least… that’s what I believed.”

“I wasn’t meant for him,” I whispered. “Not really.”

“I know that now.”

He stepped closer, and the air between us thickened.

“You came back... more than once, didn’t you?” I asked.

His lips tightened. “Yeah. I stayed away at first because I thought it was the right thing to do. But I couldn’t stay gone. I’d return in secret, watch you from the treeline. Training. Laughing. Growing.”

“Why didn’t you approach me?”

“Because Cassian had already claimed you. And even if fate burned inside me every time I saw you, I wasn’t going to ruin your life

by challenging that bond again.”

“And yet you did.”

“I couldn’t stay away this time,” he said, stepping closer. “Not after what he did. Not when I felt your pain.”

“I didn’t know... I didn’t feel anything for him like this. Not like what I feel now.”

He surged forward, kissing me with teeth and desperation. His groan vibrated through me as he backed me against the wall, his hands sliding under my thighs to lift me. My legs locked around his hips, the hard planes of his body pressing into me in ways that made my pulse riot.

Our mouths clashed in a frenzy of need—his tongue stroked mine with a hunger that made my toes curl, and I gasped when his teeth nipped my bottom lip.

“Amara.” He tore his mouth from mine, chest heaving. “We can’t—not yet.”

“Why?” My nails scored his shoulders. “Because I’m some broken thing to coddle?”

His growl shook the air. “Because when I take you, it won’t be in a f*****g cave while you’re running for your life.”

The raw possessiveness in his voice sent a shockwave through me. This wasn’t hesitation—it was a vow.

“You think I care about where we are?” I challenged, pressing closer, feeling the hard ridge of him between my thighs. “I care about who I’m with.”

His hands trembled. Just slightly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” I whispered.

I let my hands roam—up under the hoodie, across the hard ridges of his abs. His breath hitched. His c**k strained against his pants, and the friction made my thighs tighten around him.

Grayson

Her scent was everywhere. Jasmine. Steel. Mine.

Kael howled as Amara arched against me, her hips grinding down in a way that nearly shattered my control. “Mark her,” he demanded. “Now.”

I gripped her waist tighter, fighting the urge to sink my teeth into the claiming mark that had taunted me for years. Not like this.

She deserved more than stone floors and half-feral desperation.

“Soon,” I promised—her or the beast inside me, I wasn’t sure.

Her lips found the scar over my heart, her tongue tracing the old wound. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Fuck.

I barely recognized my own voice. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She smiled against my skin. “I hope so.”

Her hand found the front of my jeans, palming me through the fabric. My breath caught, hips thrusting instinctively into her touch.

“Tell me what you want,” I rasped.

“You,” she breathed. “All of you.”

I cupped her face, kissed her slow and deep, letting her taste how much I needed her. One hand wandered to her waist, the other under her hoodie—exploring, savoring, burning the shape of her into memory.

“Say it again,” I growled.

“I want you.”

I had to force myself to stop. My body screamed in protest, my wolf howled in denial. I pressed my forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“If I don’t stop now,” I said hoarsely, “I’ll take you here and now, on this cave floor, and I won’t be gentle. I’ll make you scream my name until your throat’s raw, until the whole damn forest knows who you belong to.”

Her gasp nearly broke me.

“But I won’t,” I said, pulling back. “You deserve more than this. When I finally claim you, it’ll be in a bed with clean sheets and time to learn every inch of you. I want to hear every sound you make, feel you fall apart for me again and again. Not because we were desperate—but because you knew you were mine.”

Her expression was half disappointment, half awe. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Every damn night since I first saw you.”

We collapsed by the fire later, limbs tangled, her head resting above my heart, the gentle rise and fall of her breath echoing the storm that still surged in my veins. Her fingers moved in slow, reverent circles over the ink etched into my side—a crescent moon pierced by a dagger, the infamous mark of the exiled prince of Crescent Hollow.

She studied it like it might speak back. Like it might tell her the parts of me I couldn’t say aloud.

“You never told me why they really cast you out,” she murmured, her voice a mix of curiosity and something softer. Something fragile.

I stared up at the jagged stone ceiling of the cave, smoke curling from the last glowing ember. I swallowed hard. The truth felt

heavier now, with her so close. But she deserved it.

“Because I challenged Cassian the day he was named heir,” I said finally.

She pulled back slightly, her brows pulling together. “For me?”

“For me,” I corrected gently, catching her hand and placing it firmly over my pounding heart. “Because I couldn't watch him be handed everything while I lived in the shadows, trained harder, bled more—and still wasn’t enough. And when he was promised you—when the Moon supposedly paired him with you—I felt something break. I knew it was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. You were never meant for him.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was holding her breath.

“The night of the Trials,” I continued, my voice low, haunted, “I came back. I hid in the trees. Watched as you stepped onto that stone like a queen being offered up. And when he rejected you, Amara, it nearly destroyed me.”

She didn’t speak. Just stared at me, like she was trying to understand all the shattered pieces I’d kept hidden for years.

“I left the pack years ago because I had to,” I said. “But I came back. Again and again. I watched you from afar because that’s all I thought I could have. Just seeing you—it was enough to get me through the loneliness, the rage.”

She cupped my cheek then, her thumb brushing over the stubble lining my jaw. “I wish I’d known.”

I exhaled slowly, grounding myself in the feel of her. “If I’d believed I deserved you, I would’ve fought for you long before now.”

She leaned in, lips grazing mine in a kiss that was more promise than passion. “Then fight for me now.”

Outside, the wind howled through the trees. A warning—or a war cry. We were no longer just mates caught in fate’s twisted grip.

We were the storm that was coming.