Contracted To My Fated Mate

Unable to Resist

The knock came three hours after midnight.

Esmeray had been lying awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the bond hum insistently. Sleep was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Kenzo’s face. The raw need in his dark eyes, the way his voice had gone rough when he’d said I don’t want to reject you.

She’d tried everything. A cold shower that did nothing to cool the heat in her blood. Push-ups until her arms burned. Meditation techniques she’d learned in the military to control her breathing and heart rate.

Nothing worked.

The bond wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was him.

When the knock sounded—soft, almost hesitant—Snowflake surged forward with a possessive growl.

Mate. He’s here.

Esmeray’s heart slammed against her ribs. She knew she should ignore it. Should pretend to be asleep. Should maintain the distance they’d agreed on.

Instead, she found herself crossing the room and opening the door.

Kenzo stood in the hallway, still dressed in the dark slacks and white shirt he’d worn earlier, though the shirt was now untucked and the top buttons undone. He looked like a mad man.

“I tried to stay away,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I told myself I could make it through the night, that I could give us both space to think.”

“But you couldn’t,” Esmeray finished.

“No.” His eyes tracked over her face, down to where her tank top clung to her curves, then back up. “I can feel you. Every breath you take, every time your heart beats—I feel it like it’s my own. And it’s driving me insane.”

Esmeray’s fingers tightened on the door frame. “This is a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“If we do this, it makes everything harder. The bond will strengthen and we haven’t figured everything else out yet.”

“I know,” Kenzo repeated, and took a step closer. Close enough that she could smell the hint of jasmine now. “Tell me to leave, Esmeray. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away. I’ll find a way to survive the night without you.”

She should tell him to leave. Should close the door and lock it and force them both to maintain control. But the bond was singing between them, demanding acknowledgment, and Esmeray was so tired of fighting. It had only been a few hours and she was truly tired, how could they go months, maybe even years pretending like this?

“I can’t,” she admitted, and the confession felt like surrender. “I can’t tell you to leave when every part of me is screaming for you to stay.”

Something in Kenzo’s expression shifted—relief and hunger and desperate need all tangled together. “Then let me in.”

Esmeray stepped back, and Kenzo crossed the threshold. The moment the door closed behind him, the air in the room changed like it had before. Became charged with electricity, with possibility, with the inevitability of what was about to happen.

They stood facing each other, three feet of space between them that felt like an ocean.

“We shouldn’t,” Esmeray said, but even she could hear how weak the protest sounded.

“No,” Kenzo agreed. “We shouldn’t.”

Neither of them moved.

“If we do this,” Esmeray continued, “there’s no going back. The bond will—”

“I don’t care.” Kenzo’s voice was rough, almost broken. “I’ve spent my entire life doing what I’m supposed to do. Following the rules. Being the perfect prince. And for what? So I could stand here and pretend I don’t feel this? Pretend you’re not the only thing that’s ever felt real?”

The words hit Esmeray hard.

“I’m already tired of pretending,” she said quietly.

“So am I.”

The space between them disappeared.

Esmeray didn’t know who moved first—whether she closed the distance or he did—but suddenly Kenzo’s hands were in her braids and his mouth was on hers and the bond exploded between them with enough force to make her knees buckle.

The kiss was nothing like she’d imagined. It wasn’t gentle or exploratory or tentative. It was raw and desperate and all consuming, as though they were both drowning.

Kenzo’s mouth moved against hers with bruising intensity, his tongue sliding past her lips to taste. Esmeray met him with equal ferocity, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer even though there was no space left between them.

Yes, Snowflake howled. Ours. Claim him. Make him ours.

And beneath that, she could feel Midnight responding—a dark, possessive presence that recognized Snowflake as his mate, his equal and other half.

Kenzo’s hands moved from her braids to her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. He walked her backward until her spine hit the wall, and the solid surface behind her was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Tell me to stop,” Kenzo said against her mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Tell me this is too fast, too much, and I’ll—”

“Don’t you dare stop,” Esmeray interrupted, and pulled him back down to her.

The second kiss was even more intense than the first. Kenzo’s body pressed against hers and Esmeray could feel every inch of him. Could feel how much he wanted this, wanted her.

His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, trailing hot kisses down the column of her throat. When his teeth scraped over her pulse point, Esmeray’s head fell back against the wall and a sound escaped her that was half gasp, half moan.

“You have no idea,” Kenzo said, his voice muffled against her skin, “From the moment you walked through my door, I’ve been imagining what you’d taste like. What sounds you’d make. How you’d feel in my hands.”

His palms slid under her tank top, rough against the smooth skin of her stomach, and Esmeray’s breath hitched. She’d been touched before—had taken lovers during her years in the military—but nothing had ever felt like this. Every point of contact sent electricity racing through her veins, the bond amplifying every sensation until it was almost overwhelming.

“Kenzo,” she said, his name coming out breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, and the intensity in his dark eyes made her core throb. “I need you to be sure,” he said for the millionth time.

Esmeray reached up and cupped his face in her hands, feeling the sparks from the contact. “I’m sure.”

“The council—”

“Can go to hell,” Esmeray said fiercely. “I didn’t survive war just to let a room full of politicians tell me who I can and can’t love.”

Something in Kenzo’s expression softened. “Love?”

“What else would you call this?” Esmeray asked. “The goddess chose you for me, Kenzo. And I don’t want to fight it.”

Kenzo’s mouth crashed back down on hers, and this time there was no hesitation. No holding back. His hands moved with purpose, stripping her tank top over her head and tossing it aside. Cool air hit her heated skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning through her.

Kenzo’s gaze raked over her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and the hunger in his eyes made her feel powerful. Desired.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and the reverence in his voice washed over in waves. “So damn beautiful it hurts to look at you.”

Esmeray reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. “Then stop looking and touch me.”

Kenzo’s hands were on her immediately—palms sliding up her ribs, thumbs brushing over sensitive skin, fingers mapping every curve like he was memorizing her. When his mouth followed the path his hands had traced, Esmeray’s knees gave out completely.

Kenzo caught her easily, his strength effortless as he lifted her. Esmeray wrapped her legs around his waist, and the new position brought them even closer together. She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her core, separated only by thin layers of fabric, and the friction made her gasp.

“Bed,” she managed to say.

Kenzo carried her across the room, his mouth never leaving her skin. When they reached the bed, he laid her down with surprising gentleness, his body covering hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Kenzo braced above her, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths, his dark eyes searching hers before his mouth found hers again. But this time the kiss was different. Deeper, more consuming, like he was trying to crawl inside her skin and make a home there. His hands moved with purpose, stripping away the rest of her clothing until there was nothing between them but skin and heat and need.

When Kenzo finally shed his own clothes, Esmeray’s breath caught. He was magnificently lean with dark skin like the color of whiskey, his body a weapon honed by years of training. But it was the way he looked at her that made her heart stutter. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Esmeray,” he murmured, her name on his lips sounded pleasant to her ears.

She reached for him, pulling him back down to her, and when their bodies finally aligned—skin to skin, heat to heat—the bond flared so intensely that Esmeray saw stars.

Mate, Snowflake howled. Ours. Finally ours.

Mine, Midnight responded, his presence dark and possessive in Kenzo’s consciousness.

Kenzo’s hand slid between them, fingers finding her center, and Esmeray’s back arched off the bed. He touched her with devastating precision, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her fingers dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

“You’re so responsive,” Kenzo said against her throat. “Every sound you make, every time you move—it’s driving me insane.”

“Then stop teasing me,” Esmeray said, her voice coming out rough and demanding. “I’m not fragile. I won’t break.”

Kenzo’s laugh was low and dark. “No, you won’t. You’re a warrior. A general. A pure blooded alpha just like me. You can take everything I want to give you.”

“Then give it to me.”

Kenzo positioned himself at her entrance, and for a moment, they both went still. This was it, the point of no return. Once they crossed this line, the bond would strengthen exponentially. Hiding what they were to each other would become nearly impossible, but they’d do their very best. The bond had become that important to them.

“Together,” Kenzo said, his forehead pressed against hers. “Whatever happens after this, we face it together.”

“Together,” Esmeray agreed.

Kenzo pushed forward, and the sensation of him filling her—stretching her, claiming her—made Esmeray’s vision white out. The bond exploded between them, a supernova of sensation and emotion that threatened to consume them both.

Perfect, Snowflake purred. He fits. He’s ours.

Kenzo went still, giving her time to adjust, but Esmeray could feel the tension in his body. The way every muscle was locked tight with the effort of holding back.

“Move,” she commanded, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Kenzo groaned—a raw, broken sound—and began to move. Slow at first, almost careful, but Esmeray wasn’t having it. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails raking down his back, her teeth finding his shoulder—not breaking skin, just pressure and heat and possession.

Kenzo’s movements became harder, faster, more desperate. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he drove into her with bruising force. And Esmeray loved it, loved the way he wasn’t holding back anymore. Loved the way he was claiming her with every thrust, every touch, every harsh breath against her skin.

“Mine,” Kenzo growled, and the word was more wolf than man. “You’re mine, Esmeray. Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her body coiling tighter with every movement. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes.” Kenzo’s mouth found the junction of her neck and shoulder and his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin.

Claim her, Midnight demanded. Mark her. Make her ours forever.

Kenzo’s canines extended, the primal instinct overwhelming everything else. He could taste her skin, feel her pulse racing beneath his tongue. One bite. That’s all it would take. One bite and she’d be marked as his for the rest of their lives.

Do it, Midnight snarled. She’s ours. Claim what belongs to us.

But just as his teeth pressed harder against her throat, just as Esmeray’s own canines extended in response—ready to mark him in return—a flash of clarity cut through the haze of desire.

The claiming marks would be visible, permanent undeniable proof of their fated bond.

The council would see them immediately.

“Wait,” Kenzo said, his voice strained as he pulled back from her neck. Every instinct wanted him to finish what he’d started, but he forced himself to stop. “Esmeray, wait.”

Esmeray’s eyes were wild, her wolf so close to the surface that Snowflake’s presence was almost tangible. Her canines were still extended, her body trembling with the need to complete the claiming ritual.

“The marks,” Kenzo said, his breath coming in harsh pants. “If we mark each other now, the council will know. They’ll see them and know exactly what we are.”

The words penetrated the fog of desire, and Esmeray’s eyes widened with understanding. Her canines retracted slowly, reluctantly, as reason fought against instinct.

No, Snowflake howled. We need to claim him. He’s ours. Mark him!

Not yet, Esmeray told her wolf, though it took every ounce of discipline she possessed. Not yet.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice shaking. “We can’t. Not yet.”

The loss of what they’d almost done, what they’d been seconds away from completing—hit them both. But Kenzo didn’t pull away. Instead, he captured her mouth in a possessive kiss, pouring all the frustration and need and desperate love into the connection between them.

“I still need you,” he said against her lips. “I need to feel you. All of you.”

“Then take me,” Esmeray said. “Just no marks, not yet.”

Kenzo’s movements became almost frantic as he drove into her again, harder this time, more desperate. They’d pulled back from the claiming, but they couldn’t stop this. Couldn’t deny themselves this connection.

Esmeray met him with equal intensity, her body rising to meet his, her hands gripping his shoulders and back, anywhere she could reach. The bond sang between them, amplifying every sensation, every touch, every breathless sound.

“Kenzo,” she gasped, feeling herself climbing higher, the tension coiling impossibly tight. “I’m—”

“I know,” he said, his voice rough. “I can feel it. Let go, Esmeray. I’ve got you.”

Her orgasm hit like a lightning strike; it was sudden and overwhelming and all-consuming. She cried out, her body clenching around him, and felt Kenzo follow her over the edge with a guttural groan that was half her name and something else.

For a moment, they were suspended in that perfect space where nothing existed except each other. Where the bond was the only reality and everything else faded into insignificance.

Then slowly, gradually, the world came back into focus.

Kenzo collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest, and they lay tangled together, both breathing hard, both trembling with aftershocks.

The bond was stronger now, more intense than before, but not complete.

They lay in silence for a long moment, the weight of what they’d done—and what they hadn’t done—settling over them.

Kenzo’s arms tightened around her and Esmeray turned her head to look at him. His dark eyes were troubled, his expression torn between satisfaction and frustration.

She traced her fingers over his chest, feeling his heart beating in perfect rhythm with her own as she murmured, “The bond is stronger now.”

“I feel it,” Kenzo said, and there was irritation in his voice now but she knew it wasn’t toward her but the situation. “Can even hear your wolf purring.”

Snowflake had indeed been purring, she and Midnight.

Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. In a few hours, they’d have to face the council. Would have to stand in the same room and pretend that nothing had changed between them.

But everything had changed.

They’d crossed a line tonight. Had given in to the bond in a way that made it stronger, more undeniable, more dangerous.

“You should go,” Esmeray said, though every part of her wanted him to stay. “Before anyone sees you leaving my quarters.”

Kenzo nodded, but he didn’t move. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave either,” Esmeray admitted. “But we don’t have a choice.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Kenzo disentangled himself from her and began gathering his clothes. Esmeray watched him dress, memorizing every line of his body, every movement, storing the memory away for the long days ahead when they’d have to maintain distance.

When he was fully dressed, Kenzo came back to the bed and leaned down to kiss her one more time. It was softer than their earlier kisses, but no less intense. A promise and a goodbye all at once.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said against her lips. “Somehow, we’ll find a way.”

Then he was gone, slipping out of her quarters as silently as he’d arrived, leaving Esmeray alone in the growing dawn.

She lay back on the bed, her body still humming with the aftereffects of their connection, her mind racing with everything that had just happened.

They’d given in to the bond. Had claimed each other in every way except the one that mattered most.

And now they had to hide it.

We should have marked him, Snowflake said, her presence sullen and frustrated. He’s ours. Everyone should know it.

Not yet, Esmeray repeated, knowing she’d have to say over and over. When we mark him, it has to be on our terms. Not when it puts everything at risk.

Everything is already at risk, Snowflake pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong.

Esmeray closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart, tried to find the discipline and control she’d need to face the council in a few hours.

But all she could think about was Kenzo’s hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, the way he’d looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

We’re in so much trouble, she told Snowflake.

We already were, her wolf responded. This just makes it more complicated.