Verveville's Curse

Chapter26

Willow’s pov

He stood before me, bare chested, droplets still rolling down the ridges of his chest, his hair damp, his skin flushed from the heat of his own shower. A towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

My throat went dry.

Every thought I had prepared vanished in an instant.

“Lylah?” His voice was low, husky from the steam. His eyes scanned over me,my dripping hair, my hastily thrown on dress and then locked on mine.

I stuttered, my mouth opening but no words forming. My gaze betrayed me, falling to the drop of water sliding down his chest and vanishing into the waist of his towel.

Heat surged through me, curling low in my stomach.

Damn him.

“I..uh..I…” I fumbled, my face burning.

The corner of his mouth twitched, like he knew exactly what kind of mess I was becoming just by looking at him. His eyes didn’t leave mine, intense, deliberate, as if he were daring me to speak.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low, controlled, but with something darker.

“I…” My throat closed. I forced it open again. “I came to… to ask you…”

“To ask me what?” His eyes narrowed, reading every twitch of my face, every stutter of my heart.

The words tumbled out in a rush. “Why do you look at me like that if you don’t feel anything for me? Why do you?…why do you torture me?”

His chest rose sharply, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Do you have any idea,” I snapped, stepping forward now, anger clawing its way back, “what you’re doing to me? You tell me to stay away, but then you stare at me like…like you want me. You act like I don’t belong, but then you act as if…”

“As if what?” His voice dropped, low and dangerous, it sounded like a growl.

“As if I’m yours,” I whispered, the words breaking, desperate.

Silence.

Then he was in front of me, so close I could feel the heat rolling off him, the scent of soap and storm clinging to his skin. His hand hovered at my jaw, trembling as if he was fighting with himself. His eyes blazed wolf and man both at war.

“You don’t understand, Lylah,” he said out, his control was like a blade’s edge. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” I cut in, voice shaking but defiant. “You can either tell me you don’t feel it and I’ll walk away, or…” I swallowed hard, pulse hammering in my ears. “Or you admit the truth.”

His breath hitched, ragged.

For a long, hellish second, I thought he’d push me back. Thought he…for a long, torturous second, I thought he’d push me back. Thought he’d slam a wall between us again with that iron restriction of his.

But then his hand closed around my jaw, firm and shaking at once, tilting my face up until his eyes locked with mine.

The storm inside them was unbearable. Desire, Pain, Hunger and Fear.

“The truth?” he rasped. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone like he was branding me. “The truth is I think about you every night. The truth is I dream of you, of your skin, your mouth, your body pressed beneath mine until I wake burning. And the truth…” His voice broke, harsher now, “..is that I can’t have you. Not now. Not ever.”

My chest heaved, the air around us suffocating. His confession cracked something inside me wide open. I swayed closer, like his words themselves had pulled me in.

“Why not?” My whisper trembled. “Tell me why not.”

His jaw tightened, his breath ragged against my lips. “Because… because, Lylah, if I let myself have you, I will destroy you.”

His forehead pressed against mine, raw, desperate. I could feel the war in him.

“Then destroy me,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “If that’s what it takes.”

His groan was deep, torn from somewhere deep. His mouth hovered over mine, barely a breath apart. Every muscle screamed with denial, but every glance, every breath betrayed him.

“The way you looked at me,” he murmured, voice rough, “with the same hunger in my eyes… I knew you felt it. I knew, even with my control, I felt happier. But happiness isn’t mine to keep.”

My lips brushed his as I breathed, “Then give me one moment. Just one. Even if it kills me.”

His control snapped.

His mouth crashed onto mine, fierce and claiming, as if he’d been starved for years and I was the only thing that could save him. His grip slid from my jaw into my hair, holding me captive, while his other hand crushed me against the hard, burning wall of his chest.

There was no air, no thought, no world, just Kael, his kiss devouring, his control, destroyed.

And gods help me, I kissed him back like I’d been waiting all my life.

His mouth claimed mine like we’ve been starved for years, violent, hungry, unstoppable.

The taste of him was dizzying, darker than wine, richer than any forbidden fruit. His tongue slid against mine, hot, insistent, leaving me trembling as if my body belonged to him already.

I clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could ever be enough. His hand tangled deeper into my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp, and he swallowed the sound like it was his to own.

“Gods, Lylah…” he groaned into my mouth, the sound rough, almost broken. His lips trailed down my jaw, grazing fire across my skin until they found my throat. His teeth scraped, and my knees nearly buckled. It felt like he was trying to mark me. Trying to merge our scents together.

“You don’t know how much I want you.” His breath seared the sensitive skin at my neck. His hand slid down, gripping my waist, pulling me flush against the hard, undeniable proof of his desire. The contact made me whimper, shameless, needy and his answering growl rumbled through my entire body.

I arched into him. My fingers fisted in his hair, my lips seeking his again. “Then take me,” I breathed, desperate, aching. “Please.”

He slammed me back against the wall, his body caging mine, his thigh pressing between mine until I could feel every line of him. His mouth devoured mine again, savage, deep, his tongue tangling with mine until I was drunk on him.

His hand skimmed under my tunic, calloused fingers brushing bare skin, scorching a trail up my ribs, higher, higher…

And then he froze.

His hand trembled against my skin. His breathing turned ragged, violent, as if holding himself back was costing him his sanity.

I felt him pull away, just barely, his forehead pressing to mine like he was physically restraining himself.

“If I take you…” His voice was rock, torn. “If I let myself… I won’t stop. And if I don’t stop, Lylah, the curse will take you from me. I’ll lose you before I’ve even had you.”

Tears burned my eyes, frustration and longing like a knot in my chest. My body ached for him, my lips swollen, my skin buzzing where he’d touched me.

“Then let me be lost to you,” I whispered fiercely. “Because right now, Kael, I don’t care about anything. I only care about you.

For one agonizing moment, I thought he’d give in. His lips hovered over mine, trembling, his hand still stayed hot against my bare waist. His eyes blazed with that same hunger I’d seen all morning, only now unleashed, unguarded.

But with a throaty sound, he tore himself away.

He staggered back, chest heaving, eyes wild. His control had sliced, but his fear had won.

“I can’t,” he choked. “Not like this, Not when every part of me wants to ruin you.”

And then he turned, leaving me pressed against the wall, lips swollen, heart thundering, every nerve screaming for the man who’d just walked away.