Jaded

Chapter Ten

Luca's gaze never left hers, a silent interrogation.

Jade stared right back, completely stunned. The behavior was so unlike him; he rarely involved himself directly in her personal life. He gave advice, warnings, unsolicited opinions, but he almost never inserted himself like this. This felt different. This felt possessive. Dangerously so. "Luca..."

"You have an entire second identity."

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of her usual defiance returning. "That is not the point."

"No?"

"No." The silence stretched, a palpable entity in the room.

The fire crackled softly.

Outside, the wind whispered against the windows.

Inside, tension gathered like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating.

Finally, Jade folded her arms over her chest, a defensive posture. "Luca, we are not mates."

The words landed between them like a stone, shattering the fragile peace. Something dark flashed across his expression, a primal rage simmering beneath the surface. "You are mine until you are bonded." The growl in his voice seemed to vibrate through the room itself. He turned away abruptly, grabbing the shirt from the stack of clothes. The fabric barely made it over his head before Jade spoke again.

"I told you—"

Luca spun, fast. Too fast. One second he was facing away from her, the next he was standing directly in front of her, his eyes changed. Amber. Bright. Predatory. His wolf pushing dangerously close to the surface. Most people would have taken a step back. Jade took none.

"You will not reject your mate!" The words exploded from him, raw, furious, instinctive. The room went completely still. Jade stared at him, then slowly narrowed her eyes, the way she always did when someone attempted to tell her what she could or could not do. The moment Luca saw that look, he knew he had made a mistake. Because Jade didn't respond well to commands; she treated them like challenges.

Jade tilted her head, her lips curving, not into a smile, but into a warning. "Watch me." The words came out quiet, deadly, certain.

Not an ounce of hesitation.

Not an inch of fear.

And Luca felt something dangerously close to admiration. Because even staring directly into the eyes of an angry wolf, she still refused to bow. She always had. And that, more than anything else, was exactly why she was impossible.

"I could be just like you and not find my mate for years," Jade said firmly, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "My mind may change by then. But if I am to be bonded by midnight, I am rejecting them. You, Roman, not even Walter will stop me." The vow settled heavily between them, a gauntlet thrown down.

Luca's entire body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. The muscles in his jaw flexed once, twice, like a predator tensing before a strike. His amber eyes held hers for a long moment, a burning intensity that seemed to strip away her defenses. Then, he blinked. When they opened again, the gold had disappeared, leaving only the familiar, unnerving darkness, a void that promised something ancient and untamed.

For several seconds, he said nothing, the silence stretching, thick with unspoken threats. Then, he inhaled slowly through his nose, a sound like a coiled snake. He turned away, a deliberate act of dismissal that surprised Jade more than another argument would have. She had expected him to push back, to growl, to lecture. Instead, he simply walked away, leaving her standing alone in the suddenly too-bright bedroom.

She followed him into the living room, which was dimly lit.

Night had fully settled outside, turning the massive windows into dark mirrors that reflected the interior of the lodge, the forest beyond a vanished blackness.

Luca stopped near the fireplace, the hearth cold and empty, a stark contrast to the inferno that had raged between them moments before. A cigarette appeared between his fingers as if conjured from the shadows, and a second later, a lighter sparked, briefly illuminating his face in an orange glow. He inhaled deeply, and the tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction, just enough to be noticeable.

Across the room, Jade headed toward the kitchen. The bottle of white wine still sat on the counter from earlier. She poured herself a fresh glass, the cool liquid a welcome balm, and took a slow sip before wandering back into the living room. The clock above the mantel caught her attention: 9:34 PM. Her stomach fluttered. Less than three hours. Less than three hours before everything changed. At midnight, she would officially become a beta member of the pack.

No more restrictions.

No more being left behind.

No more Walter deciding what she could and couldn’t participate in–patrols, training, missions.

Finally. A small smile tugged at her lips. That part she couldn’t wait for. The bond, however... that was another matter entirely. The very thought irritated her. The idea that some invisible force might one day dictate who she belonged to made her skin crawl.

Jade settled onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath herself as she swirled the wine in her glass.

Across the room, Luca stood with one forearm braced against the mantel, smoke drifting lazily toward the ceiling.

For several moments, neither of them spoke.

The silence was comfortable, mostly.

Then Jade remembered something, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "What did you mean by, 'I'm yours until I'm bonded'?”

Luca took another drag from his cigarette. For a moment, she thought he might ignore the question entirely, let it dissipate into the smoke. Instead, he slowly turned around, his gaze finding hers immediately, a dark, unreadable depth within it. "I meant exactly what I said.”

Jade arched an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

Luca exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, a plume of gray that obscured his face for a fleeting moment before he lowered his arm and his eyes returned to hers. "You are mine, Jade." The statement was delivered with such certainty, such absolute conviction, it almost sounded ridiculous.

Almost.

"No human males,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "Just me.”

The corner of Jade’s mouth immediately curled upward. There it was. The possessiveness. The dominance. The absolute confidence. And if she were being honest? A small, traitorous part of her liked it. Far more than she intended to admit. Unfortunately for Luca, enjoying something and obeying it were two very different things.

Jade lifted her wine glass, her eyes never leaving his. "I don't typically stick with one man for more than a week." She deliberately looked away from him then, turning her attention toward the dark window beside the fireplace. "Especially when they think they're about to order me around." A grin threatened, a dangerous spark in her eyes. She could practically feel his irritation from across the room. The reaction was worth it.

A quiet chuckle escaped Luca, a low, rumbling sound that immediately caught her attention. Jade looked back.

Mistake.

A very big mistake.

Because Luca was smiling now, a slow, predatory unfolding of his lips.

Not his usual smirk.

Not amusement.

Something far more dangerous.

His expression carried the chilling confidence of someone who had just realized he was holding all the cards. Slowly, deliberately, he stubbed out the cigarette, the ember dying with a soft hiss. "Unlike those humans," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his voice dangerously soft, "I know everything about you, Jade.”

The words landed with startling accuracy, like a perfectly aimed dart.

Jade opened her mouth, then stopped.

Her reply, whatever it might have been, vanished before it ever formed.

Luca's smile widened slightly, a flicker of triumph in his dark eyes.

Victory.

The bastard knew he had scored a hit. Because he was right. The men she met never knew her. Not really. They knew Ginger. Or whichever version of herself she decided to show them. They knew carefully selected pieces, temporary pieces, disposable pieces. Luca knew everything.

The good.

The bad.

The embarrassing.

The reckless.

The stubborn.

The infuriating.

All of it.

He knew where she hid when she was upset, he knew how many sugars she preferred in her coffee, he knew exactly what expression she made before she did something stupid, and he knew every scar she carried.

Every weakness.

Every strength.

And worse—he knew she knew he was right.

Jade narrowed her pale-green eyes, the usual spark of defiance now tinged with a grudging acknowledgment. "f**k you, Luca.”

His laugh filled the room.

Deep.

Warm.

Entirely too pleased with himself—that particular sound he made when she said something that hit him right in the chest and he was trying to pretend it didn't. "There she is.”

He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees between her legs like it was the only place he belonged. Like his body had been waiting for permission to fold itself at her feet. The couch cushion dipped where his hands braced on either side of her thighs.

Jade reached for him before she thought about it—her fingers finding his hair, still damp from the shower, the dark strands curling around her knuckles. He leaned into the touch like a half-starved thing. His eyes closed. Just for a second, just long enough for her to see the cracks in that Alpha composure.

"You said in the shower that this could not continue between us." She said it quiet. Not an accusation. A reminder. For both of them.

His eyes opened. That amber ring was already bleeding in, hunger tightening the lines of his face. "That was before I heard the voice of the man that spent the night with you.”

Her fingers stilled in his hair. She didn't tell him he was wrong, because he wasn't. She didn't apologize, because she had nothing to apologize for. She held still and let him feel whatever he needed to feel. "You smelled him in the hall, didn't you?”

Luca's jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek jumped once, twice. His hands curled against the couch cushions, fingers sinking into the fabric. "Your scent lingered on him." His voice dropped, rougher now. "I smelled the motherfucker in the parking deck. First floor. Elevator. The hallway outside your door. Everywhere you walked this morning, I followed your trail and found him on it.”

Jade, let out a breath that was almost a laugh, shaking her head slowly. "Okay. I get the picture.” She studied him—the set of his shoulders, the white-knuckle grip on her couch, the way he was breathing like he had just run a mile. All that possessive fire banked behind a thin wall of control. "What makes you think you'll be able to handle it?" she asked. "If I were to be bonded. If I had someone else's mark on my neck. Someone else's name in my chest."

He didn't answer right away. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing into her thigh, his nose brushing the inside of her knee. The position was almost reverent—a future Alpha on his knees, hiding his face in her lap like a boy who'd been told something he couldn't bear. "I don't know, Jade." His voice came out muffled against her skin. "That will be my problem to bear. Not yours.”

She leaned back into the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling. Her fingers kept moving through his hair, steady strokes, the way you would soothe a spooked animal. "Luca—"

He was up before she could finish. Not slow. Not gentle. He rose to his feet and dropped onto the couch beside her, close enough that his thigh pressed against hers, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his skin. His hand landed on her knee, heavy and sure. "This is not a discussion, Jade.”

Her teeth came together. A flash of frustration, there and gone. But she didn't want to fight him tonight. Didn't want to pick apart the knot of what are we and where is this going and you can't have me and keep me and let me go all at once, Luca.

Her hand slid over to his lap.

He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just let her palm brush against the shape of him through his sweatpants, already half-hard, twitching under her touch.

"If you do not wish to have this discussion," she said, "then perhaps you should distract me, Lucas."

His teeth caught his bottom lip. Gnawed at it. That small tell that meant she'd gotten under his skin. "You know I hate it when you use my full name." A pause. "I am not old yet."

Jade smirked, leaning in until her mouth was a breath away from his. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to bite. Her hand stayed where it was, warm and still against his c**k. "You sure sound old," she murmured. "Following the rules like a good boy. Waiting for permission. This is not a discussion, Jade—that's what old men say when they are scared of what they will do if they actually let go."

His hand shot out and jerked hers away from his sweatpants. His grip was tight around her wrist, not quite painful, exactly on the edge of it. "Don't you f*****g dare." The growl was low. Real. The kind of sound that would have sent a lesser wolf cowering. Before she knows it, he is back on his knees between her legs again.

Jade's smirk widened. She held his gaze, pale green meeting that hungry amber, and didn't pull back an inch. "Or what?" she breathed.

The question sat between them like a lit match in a dry room. His chest was rising too fast. His grip on her wrist was trembling—not from weakness, but from restraint. From the effort of not doing exactly what she was daring him to do.

He stared at her for a long, loaded moment. Then his hand released her wrist, slid up her arm, over her shoulder, and curled around the back of her neck. His thumb pressed against her pulse point. "You know exactly or what," he said. "That's why you keep pushing."

"Is it working?"

He kissed her instead of answering. Hard. Open-mouthed. His tongue sliding against hers, his hand tightening on her neck, pulling her closer like he was trying to consume her through his mouth alone.

When he broke away, they were both breathing ragged. "Bedroom," he said. "Now."

Jade's hand found his again, lacing their fingers together. "Lead the way, old man.”

He laughed—that same warm, helpless sound—and pulled her up off the couch.

The moonlight cut a white rectangle across the bed, spilling through the curtain she never bothered to close. Jade lay in it like she had been placed there—arms above her head, hair fanned across the pillow, the pale light tracing the curve of her ribs, the hollow of her throat, the dark peaks of her n*****s.

Luca knelt at the foot of the bed, still dressed in nothing but the sweatpants he had pulled on after their shower. His hands ran up her calves, over her knees, spreading her thighs. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was memorizing the terrain.

"You're staring," she said.

"I'm worshiping." He leaned down and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee. "There's a difference."

Her breath caught when his lips traveled higher, trailing up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she wanted him. He did it again—that same path, that same teasing pause—and she felt the heat of his exhale against her skin. "You're going to kill me," she whispered.

"Eventually." His tongue traced a line up her thigh, slow and wet. "Not tonight."

He settled between her legs and finally, finally put his mouth on her. His tongue flat against her c**t, his fingers curling into the flesh of her hips, holding her open while he licked into her like he was starving for the taste. Her back came off the mattress—an involuntary arc, a sound punched out of her throat that she couldn't have held back if she tried.

"Luca—"

He hummed against her, the vibration shooting straight up her spine, and doubled down. Two fingers sliding into her, curling, finding that spot that made her see stars. His tongue kept working, circling, pressing, until her thighs clamped around his head and she came with a cry that shattered the quiet.

He didn't give her time to recover.

He crawled up her body, replaced his fingers with his c**k in one slick thrust, and buried himself to the hilt. Her mouth opened on a silent scream. Her nails raked down his back. "Look at me," he said.

She couldn't. Her eyes were rolled back, her head pressing into the pillow, her whole body a live wire.

He grabbed her jaw and forced her gaze to his. "I said, look at me.”

Her pale green eyes found his, and something in his chest cracked open.

He pulled out slow—agonizingly slow—watching her face the whole time.

The way her lips parted.

The way her pupils blew.

The way her body tried to follow his when he withdrew.

Then he slammed back in.

Her head lolled back, the arch of her throat a perfect curve in the moonlight. He dropped his mouth to it, teeth scraping over her pulse, tongue soothing the sting. He f****d her like that—deep and hard, each thrust punching a gasp out of her, his hand still wrapped around her jaw, keeping her eyes on his.

"You feel that?" he asked. "You feel what you do to me?"

She couldn't answer. Could only nod, her fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, his back, anywhere.

He flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out—a single brutal motion that drove him deeper, made her gasp into the pillow. He pulled her hips up, arched her back, and drove into her from behind. The new angle was devastating. She felt him everywhere. In her throat. Behind her eyes. In that hollow place behind her ribs that she'd been pretending didn't exist.

His hand tangled in her hair and pulled, forcing her head back, her spine bowing. His other hand found her c**t, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. "Come for me," he said. "Now."

Within a few thrusts, she came with his name on her lips, broken and desperate, her body clenching around him so tight he had to grit his teeth to keep from following her over.

He pulled out, flipped her onto her back again, and drove back in. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper. The moonlight caught the sweat on his chest, the marks her nails had left on his shoulders, the raw hunger in his eyes.

He slowed.

Just a little.

Enough to change the angle, enough to grind instead of thrust, his hips rolling in a rhythm that made her toes curl. His mouth found hers—softer now, a kiss that said more than words could. His tongue slid against hers, slow and deep, and she felt the shift in him. The crack in his control. "I love you,” he said against her mouth.

The words hit her like a physical blow. They had never said it. Not once. Not in words that meant more than the simple, I love you.

Her hands came up to frame his face, her thumbs tracing his cheekbones. "Say it again."

"I love you, Jade." His voice broke on her name. "I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you.”

She laughed—a wet, broken sound—and pulled him down into a kiss. Her legs tightened around him. Her hips rolled up to meet his. "I love you too, Luca.”

He laughed into her mouth, still f*****g her, still buried deep, and the sound vibrated through her chest like a second heartbeat.

They moved together in the moonlight—fast, then slow, then desperate again. He took her against the headboard, her legs over his shoulders, his mouth on her ankles. He took her on her side, one leg hitched over his arm, his hand splayed across her stomach so he could feel himself moving inside her. He took her on the floor when they rolled off the bed, laughing, his body covering hers, the hardwood cool against her back and his heat searing her front.

Each time she thought she was done, he found something else—a new angle, a new pace, a new way to pull pleasure out of her until she was hoarse and shaking and raw with it.

The last time, he laid her back on the bed and made love to her slow. Torturously slow. Each thrust a question. Each withdrawal a promise. His forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling, his eyes never leaving her face. "Stay with me," he whispered.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. "All night." Another nod.

His hips pressed forward, grinding deep, and she felt the tension coiling in him—the telltale shudder, the way his rhythm stuttered. He pulled out at the last second, his hand wrapping around his shaft, spilling hot across her stomach in thick, pulsing stripes. His breath came ragged. His forehead dropped to her shoulder. "f**k," he breathed.

She stroked his hair. "Eloquent."

He laughed weakly, kissed her collarbone, and collapsed beside her.

The silence settled over them like a blanket. The moonlight had shifted, climbing the wall; the rectangle of light grew smaller as the night deepened. Jade's breathing evened out, her hand still tangled in his hair, her body curled into his side.

He watched her fall asleep.

Her lips parted slightly. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks. The marks he had left on her neck were already bruising purple in the dim light. His c*m was drying on her stomach, silver in the moon glow.

He reached down and pulled the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She stirred, murmured something unintelligible, and pressed closer to him. His arm wrapped around her. His nose buried in her hair.

The clock on her nightstand glowed red: 11:47.

Thirteen minutes until midnight. Thirteen minutes until the day ended and a new one began. Thirteen minutes until the ceremony was one day closer — the ceremony where she would stand at his side as his beta, not his mate, not his bonded, just his.

His chest ached.

He tightened his arm around her, pulled her closer, and stared at the ceiling. The minutes ticked by. Her breath warm on his skin. Her heartbeat steady against his ribs.

11:48.

11:49.

Midnight was creeping in fast. And he wasn't ready to let go.