breaking point
868 Words
(Lira's POV)
His mouth crashed into mine with none of the teasing slowness of his fingers. This was pure possession—hot and demanding, his teeth scraping my bottom lip until I gasped. The taste of myself on his tongue sent a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.
"Mine," he growled against my lips.
I should have argued. Should have shoved him away. Instead, I arched against him, my nails scoring down his bare chest as his hips pressed me into the furs. The hard length of him burned through our clothes, drawing a whimper from my throat that had his eyes flashing wolf-gold in the dark.
A snore from Ryn's corner of the cave made me stiffen.
Kael's chuckle was dark as he nipped at my earlobe. "Quiet, princess. Unless you want an audience."
Her body was a revelation.
Every gasp, every tremble, every time her claws pricked my skin—she was fire and lightning in my arms. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, blending with the musk of sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood where she'd marked me.
I dragged my lips down her throat, biting just hard enough to make her hips jerk. "This what you dreamed about?" I murmured against her pulse. "When you touched yourself thinking of me?"
Her answering moan was answer enough.
The first slide of her tight heat around my fingers had us both shuddering. She was so f*****g perfect—clenching around me, her breath coming in ragged pants against my shoulder.
"Look at me," I demanded.
Her silver eyes locked onto mine, wide and vulnerable in a way she'd never allow in daylight. I crooked my fingers just so—
"Kael!"
Her cry was muffled against my palm as she came apart, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers. The sight of her—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, completely undone—nearly had me spilling in my pants like some untried pup.
I didn't give her time to recover.
One hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back as I lined myself up. "Last chance to tell me no," I warned, my voice rough with need.
Her answer was a roll of her hips that had me sheathing inside her in one smooth thrust.
Fuck.
Tight. So f*****g tight. Her walls clenched around me like a vise, drawing a groan from deep in my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved—just breathed, connected in the most primal way possible.
Then she rocked against me, and all coherent thought vanished.
The river smelled different tonight.
Not just the usual wet earth and iron-rich water, but something sharper underneath. Like lightning about to strike. I crouched at the water's edge, my reflection fracturing with every ripple, when the wind shifted—and there it was.
Him.
Kael's scent wrapped around me like smoke—pine resin and something darker, something that made my wolf prick its ears. I spun, claws already out, just as he emerged from the treeline.
Moonlight painted him in silver and shadow. He'd taken a wound since our last encounter—a fresh gash across his ribs that glistened in the pale light. The bastard was smiling.
"Following me now, princess?"
I bared my teeth. "This is Blackfang territory."
"And yet," he stepped closer, boots sinking into the mud, "here you are. Alone."
The space between us crackled. I could see every detail—the way his pulse jumped in his throat, the flecks of gold in his predator's eyes, the fresh blood welling at his wound. My mouth watered.
No.
I lunged first.
(Kael's POV)
She fought like the river—all flash and fury, her movements liquid. My back hit the ground with a splash, icy water soaking through my shirt. Lira straddled me, her claws at my throat, her braid coming undone in dark waves around us.
Then she froze.
Her nostrils flared. That scent—my scent—was all over her now. I watched the realization hit her like a physical blow. Mates could track each other anywhere. There would be no more hiding.
Lira's grip trembled. "This changes nothing."
I grinned up at my furious, beautiful enemy. "Liar."
(The Howling)
The first warning cry split the night.
Blackfang patrol. Close.
Lira was off me in an instant, but not before I caught the way her eyes flicked to my wound. Concern? Guilt? I filed it away to torment her with later.
Ryn materialized beside me, tossing a stolen Blackfang cloak in my direction. "They're tracking your blood, you idiot."
Across the clearing, Lira was arguing with Jarek, her gestures sharp. I didn't need wolf hearing to know what she was saying—let them go.
Our eyes met through the trees. One heartbeat. Two.
Then she turned away.
Back at camp, Ryn stitched my wound with his usual lack of sympathy. "You're playing a dangerous game."
I flexed my shoulder, testing the pull of the thread. "Worth it."
Because here's what Lira didn't know—while she'd been distracted by our little river fight, I'd planted something at the Blackfang border.
A single white wolf's tooth.
The oldest challenge there was.
- Writer
