Kidnapped by the Werewolf Mafioso

Chapter Fourteen

AKIKO

My body doesn't belong to me anymore.

I wake to find myself wrapped around Giancarlo like invasive ivy, our limbs so tangled I can't tell where I end and he begins. The sheets beneath us are shredded—when did that happen? My nails, I realize, seeing the deep gouges in the mattress. His back bears matching marks, already healing but still angry red.

The changes started immediately after he knotted me the first time. That impossible swelling that locked us together while my body convulsed around him, while the bond rewrote my DNA into something new. Now, three days later—or is it four?—I catalog the differences with scientific precision.

My temperature runs hotter. Not the fever of transformation but something permanent, like I carry my own furnace beneath my skin. When I breathe, I taste him on the air—pine and winter storms and the iron tang of blood we've shared. My vision cuts sharper through the darkness. I can hear his heartbeat from rooms away, feel the blood moving through his veins like rivers calling me home.

"You're awake." His voice rumbles against my throat where he's been marking me again. The bruises fade too quickly now, forcing him to refresh them every few hours. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry." The word encompasses too much—hunger for food, for him, for the taste of his blood on my tongue. "Empty. Like I need..."

"I know." He shifts, and I feel him hardening against my thigh again. Neither of us has left this bed for more than minutes at a time. "The bond demands completion. Over and over until our bodies learn they're one."

His hand trails down my spine, finding places that make me arch into him. My response is immediate, violent in its intensity. The yokai whisper from the corners where they keep vigil, amused by our endless appetite.

The kitsune learns her nature, Noriko observes, frost patterns on the windows spelling out old fertility runes. Blood and pleasure, pain and joining. As it was with her mother.

"Tell me about the blood." I nip at his throat, feeling his pulse jump. "Why do I crave it?"

"Wolves share blood to strengthen pack bonds." He tilts his head, offering. "But this is deeper. Your kitsune nature mixing with wolf, creating something new."

I bite without warning, canines—longer now, sharper—piercing skin. His blood floods my mouth like wine, like power, like coming home. Through the bond I feel his pleasure spike, the pain transmuting into something that makes him grind against me.

"Fuck." He fists my hair, not pulling me away but holding me there. "Take what you need."

I drink deeply, each swallow making the world sharper. I can feel his memories in the blood—flashes of violence, of loneliness, of the moment he first saw me on that platform. His desperate need to claim me, protect me, keep me. The way I looked feeding Dylan to the yokai, magnificent in my brutality.

When I release him, blood paints my lips. He kisses me fierce and desperate, tasting himself on my tongue. Then his teeth find my throat, returning the favor. The penetration makes me cry out, hips bucking against him. It's too much and not enough, this endless cycle of need.

"Mine," he growls against my skin, and I feel the word in my bones.

"Prove it."

The challenge ignites something feral in him. He flips me onto my stomach, hands rough and perfect. I fight because I can, because the struggle makes it sweeter. We grapple for dominance, naked bodies sliding against each other, each trying to pin the other.

He's stronger but I'm faster. I almost escape before he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head. The position leaves me vulnerable, exposed, exactly where I want to be.

"Yield." Command and plea tangled together.

"Make me."

He enters me in one brutal thrust that whites out my vision. No gentleness now, no careful exploration. Just raw need that borders on violence. I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies creating rhythms that make the bed frame crack.

"Harder." I bare my teeth, challenging. "I won't break."

"No," he agrees, driving deeper. "You won't."

The pain-pleasure blurs until I can't separate them. Every nerve ending fires at once, the bond amplifying sensation until I'm drowning in it. His blood on my tongue, mine on his. The slide of sweat-slicked skin. The bruising grip of his hands that will fade too quickly.

When he flips me again, I wrap my legs around him, changing the angle. The new position makes us both groan. Face to face now, I can see his control fracturing. The civilized veneer stripped away to reveal the predator beneath.

"I need—" He can't finish, but I understand.

"Yes." Permission for whatever comes next.

His pace turns punishing. I score my nails down his chest, drawing blood that I lick away greedily. The taste makes my vision shift—everything sharper, clearer, more. I can see the threads that bind us, golden ropes of connection that pulse with each thrust.

The bond completes itself, Kazuki intones solemnly. Nine times nine, as tradition demands.

Have we really coupled that many times? The days blur together in a haze of tangled limbs and shared blood. My body bears the evidence—bruises and bite marks and the deep satisfaction of being thoroughly claimed.

"Look at me." Giancarlo's command cuts through my drifting thoughts. When I meet his eyes, they're more wolf than man. "I want to see you come apart."

He reaches between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes me see stars. Combined with the brutal pace, it's too much. I shatter around him, inner muscles clenching hard enough to drag him over with me. But this time, there's more.

The knot swells, locking us together. The pressure borders on pain but transmutes into pleasure that makes me scream. I can feel him pulsing inside me, filling me, claiming me in the most primal way possible.

"Mine," he says again, and this time I echo it.

"Mine."

We're locked together, bodies joined so completely I forget we were ever separate. The bond sings between us, satisfied for the moment. But only for a moment. Already I can feel the hunger building again, the need for more. More blood, more pleasure, more of this terrifying intimacy that's remaking us both.

"How long?" I pant against his throat.

"The knot? Twenty minutes, maybe thirty." He shifts carefully, trying not to hurt me with the swollen flesh that connects us. "The hunger? Days, maybe weeks. Until our bodies accept the bond fully."

"I'll go insane." But I'm smiling, delirious with endorphins and satisfaction.

"Insane with pleasure." He kisses me slow and deep. "There are worse fates."

The yokai twitter their agreement. They've grown bolder these past days, offering commentary and suggestions. Rei keeps score of our couplings. Yui sings fertility songs that make my bones ache. Even Tetsu has produced helpful items from his briefcase—oils that ease the joining, silks to replace the sheets we keep destroying.

When the knot finally releases, I whimper at the loss. Empty again, always empty without him inside me. But he doesn't let me suffer long. His mouth replaces what we've lost, tongue and teeth working me toward another peak.

I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him there. The sight of him between my thighs—this dangerous man brought to his knees by need for me—makes power surge through my veins. I am predator and prey, claimed and claiming, everything and nothing all at once.

"Again," I demand when he rises. "More."

"Greedy little fox." But he's already hard again, the wolf's stamina matching my kitsune appetite. "Turn over."

I comply, presenting myself like the animal I'm becoming. He runs his hands down my spine, over the curve of my ass, appreciating. Then he's inside me again, the new angle making us both curse.

"You're going to kill me." He sets a rhythm that makes my toes curl. "Death by mate bond."

"There are worse fates," I echo his earlier words.

We lose ourselves again in the ancient dance. Bodies moving together, against each other. The wrestling for dominance that always ends the same way—with us joined, inseparable, complete. My yokai sing approval in languages that predate human speech.

Time becomes meaningless. We exist in an endless now of touch and taste and the electric connection that demands constant feeding. Isabella brings food that we barely taste. Leaves water we drink only to fuel more passion. The world outside ceases to exist.

"I can't stop." I confess it against his chest during a brief respite. "I need you constantly. Need your blood, your body, your everything."

"I know." He strokes my hair, gentle despite the bruises I've left on him. "I'm the same. The bond is rewriting us, making us into something new."

"What if it never stops?"

"Then we'll adapt." Simple as that. "We'll find ways to function while feeding this hunger."

"Your empire—"

"Can wait. You can't." He pulls me up for another kiss. "Nothing matters but this. But you."

The words unlock something in my chest. Not love—too early, too raw for that word. But recognition. Understanding. The beginning of something that might grow into forever if we survive this crucible.

"Bite me again," I whisper. "Please."

He obliges, teeth sinking deep. I return the favor, our blood mingling as we move together. The feedback loop intensifies—his pleasure becomes mine, mine becomes his, until we're drowning in shared sensation.

My body changes with each exchange. Stronger, faster, more resilient. The bruises fade in minutes now. The scratches heal before they can properly bleed. Only his bite marks linger, refreshed constantly by our mutual need.

"You're becoming something new." He traces the marks on my throat with reverence. "Not just wolf, not just kitsune. Something unique."

"Something yours."

"Something mine," he agrees. Then, softer, "And I'm becoming something else... strictly for you."

The admission hangs between us, heavy with implication. This isn't one-sided claiming. We're remaking each other, blood and bone and the spaces between heartbeats. Each coupling drives us deeper into shared identity.

When he enters me again, I'm ready for the knot this time. Welcome it, even. The pressure-pain-pleasure of being locked together, unable to separate. This is what the nuns feared—not the s*x but the connection. The way two becomes one becomes something entirely other.

"I love—" He bites the words back, but I feel them through the bond.

"I know." I touch his face, trace the sharp angles that have become my whole world. "Not yet. But soon."

"Soon," he agrees.

We rock together gently, the knot preventing anything more vigorous. But the slow grind hits differently, makes me feel every inch of him. Every pulse, every breath, every minute shift that sends sparks through oversensitive nerves.

The yokai begin singing something that sounds like a wedding song. Or maybe a funeral dirge. With them, it's hard to tell the difference. But the melody wraps around us, ancient magic recognizing what we're becoming.

When release finally claims us this time, it's quieter. Deeper. Something settles in my chest—not satisfaction of the body but of the soul. The hunger remains but tempered now, manageable.

"We should eat real food," I murmur against his throat. "Shower. Maybe see if the world still exists outside this room."

"In a minute." He holds me closer, still locked inside me. "Just... let me have this moment."

I understand. This pause between one hunger and the next. This breath before we dive back into the consuming need that will drive us for days yet. Maybe weeks. Maybe forever, in smaller ways.

"Gianni?" I use his nickname for the first time, feel his pleasure at hearing it. "Thank you. For being patient. For letting me choose."

"Always." The word carries weight of promise. "In all things, always."

The knot releases slowly, leaving me empty and already craving the next joining. But for now, we hold each other. Two predators learning to be gentle. Two weapons discovering they can create instead of destroy.

Outside, the yokai guard us. Inside, we guard each other.

The hunger will return—moments from now, demanding and deep. But this breath of peace between storms is precious too. Proof that what we're building is more than lust, more than the bond's demands.

It's the beginning of forever, written in blood and pleasure and the sweet ache of bodies learning they were always meant to be one.