The Fated Mate almost Missed

Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Lyra’s POV

The sky was just starting to lighten, casting a soft blush over the compound, when I saw him.

Gavin.

He stood at the threshold of my door, arms crossed over his chest, tension in every inch of his body—but his eyes... his eyes were on me like he’d been waiting his whole life for this one moment.

I stopped in my tracks, breath caught.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low. “But I couldn’t stay away.”

My heart thundered. “You’re not the only one who couldn’t sleep.”

He stepped forward slowly, as if afraid I’d vanish.

“You saw him tonight?” he asked.

I nodded. “We ended it.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but then his jaw tightened. “Because of me?”

“No,” I said softly. “Because of me.”

Gavin looked at me like he could see everything—the years of loyalty, the ache of doing what was expected, the weight of being strong for everyone but myself. He reached out, fingertips grazing the back of my hand. I didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want to be your mistake, Lyra,” he said.

“You won’t be.”

I opened the door.

He followed me in.

The moment the door clicked shut, something shifted between us. The air changed. The scent of him overwhelmed me—pine smoke, wild musk, and the barest hint of sandalwood. It wrapped around my senses, igniting the heat coiled low in my belly.

He moved toward me, deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. I stepped backward until my spine touched the wall, heart pounding so loud I swore he could hear it.

“You feel it too,” he murmured. “This pull.”

“I’ve tried not to.”

“I haven’t,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you in that council chamber. Not because of the bond. Because you—the fire in your eyes, the way you held the room like it belonged to you.”

He leaned closer, his lips just brushing my cheek as he whispered, “But the bond makes it worse. Like I’d die if I didn’t taste you.”

I shivered, my hands sliding up his chest. His heart thudded under my palm, strong and fast. Like mine.

I tilted my head, breath trembling. “Then taste me.”

Gavin groaned, and then his mouth was on mine—hot, demanding, relentless. He kissed me like he was starved for it, and maybe he was. Maybe we both were.

I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, pressing me into the wall as our mouths devoured each other. My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, heat pulsing between us.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark gold now, glowing faintly.

“I’m trying to be gentle,” he said, voice raw. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered, dragging his shirt over his head.

His skin was warm, firm under my palms. His chest heaved with every breath, muscles tight like he was barely holding back.

I kissed him again, slower this time, letting myself feel every inch of him. The stubble along his jaw. The way his lips softened when I took control. The way his hands trembled as he traced the curve of my thighs.

My nightgown fell in a whisper of fabric, and his eyes roamed me like he was memorizing a sacred map.

“Beautiful,” he said. “f*****g perfect.”

He sank to his knees before me, reverent.

I gasped as his lips found the inside of my thigh, the soft kiss turning into a trail of open-mouthed worship. His fingers slid through my slick heat, and I arched into his touch, already lost.

“Gavin—”

He growled low in his throat and buried his mouth between my legs, tasting me like he meant to claim me completely. My hand fisted in his hair as I cried out, hips bucking against his tongue. He didn’t let up—his mouth moved with wicked precision, teasing and punishing until I shattered against him.

The world tilted.

When I came down, he rose, kissing me again—my taste still on his lips. His eyes locked on mine as he guided himself to my entrance, thick and throbbing.

“Lyra,” he groaned, voice nearly broken, “I need—”

“I know. I want it.”

He slid inside me slowly, inch by thick, delicious inch, and my head dropped back with a gasp. The stretch, the fullness, the sheer rightness of him nearly undid me.

He moved inside me, deep and slow, his forehead resting against mine, breath ragged. “You feel like home,” he whispered. “Like the moon made you for me.”

I held him tighter. “Then take me like you’ve waited your whole life.”

And he did.

Gavin thrust harder, deeper, every movement fueled by months of tension, hunger, and unspoken want. Our bodies found a rhythm that was as old as time. He kissed my neck, my jaw, my shoulder—marking me in every way except the one that would seal the bond.

He didn’t bite.

Not yet.

But it was there. Between us. Coiling tighter with every thrust, every cry, every whispered name.

When we came together, it was a symphony—stars behind my eyes, the sound of his voice in my ear as he spilled inside me, the feel of his arms trembling around me.

We collapsed together, tangled and breathless, the world holding still for just a moment.

And in the silence after, as our heartbeats slowly calmed, Gavin cradled my face in his hands.

“You’re mine,” he whispered.

I touched his cheek. “And you’re mine.”

The bond pulsed between us, not sealed, but blooming.

And I knew then—this was only the beginning.