Chapter 3: A Bad Idea
1278 Words
Everything I’d ever been taught told me to get the hell out of there. He belonged to Freya. My sister. The same sister who had watched with a smile while Scott tore my life apart in front of the Council.
The same sister who’d sent me here this morning with a Cartier box in my hand, treating me like her own personal errand girl.
Fuck it.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“You do.”
I took a step back, but my heel caught the edge of the rug. I stumbled, and Xavier caught me—one hand firm on my waist, the other gripping my wrist. The contact sent a jolt of heat straight through me.
“I can let you go,” he said, his voice low.
“I know.”
“But you don’t want me to.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t pull away, either.
His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. “You’re always so quiet around me. I thought you hated me.”
“I never hated you.”
“You ignored me.”
“I ignore everyone.”
A small, unwilling smile tugged at my lips.
“There it is,” he murmured. “That smile.”
“Stop counting them.”
“I’m starting to think they’re worth collecting.”
Heat climbed my neck. “This is a terrible idea.”
“It is.”
“You’re not even denying it.”
“I’d be lying if I did.”
Scott had always told people exactly what they wanted to hear. Xavier said the things that burned.
“Do you feel guilty?” I asked.
“Yes.” His gaze didn’t waver. “But the guilt isn’t stopping me. That’s a problem for both of us.”
I let out a short laugh. Standing this close, he didn’t look like the bored royal I’d seen at family dinners. He looked hungry.
His eyes traced my face. “You have freckles.”
“Nobody notices them.”
“I do. They suit you.”
No one had ever said anything like that to me.
“Do you actually think I’m beautiful?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Xavier didn’t hesitate. “I think you’re the kind of beauty people miss because they’re too busy staring at your sister.”
He stepped closer, smelling of cedar and whiskey. “I’ve watched men overlook you for years. They’re idiots.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” His voice dropped. “Your sister is beautiful. You are too. And right now, I don’t give a damn about any of the rest of it.”
Something just broke inside me.
I reached out, grabbed his sweater, and pulled him down into a kiss that felt desperate and almost angry—nothing like the careful way Scott always touched me. Xavier didn’t hesitate; he hauled me back with him until my legs hit the couch and we both tumbled down.
He braced himself over me, his thigh pressing between my legs and sending a surge of heat straight through my stomach. I arched into him, and he let out a low, rough sound as his hand slid under my blouse, his palm hot against my skin.
Ciel’s voice had shifted from a scream to a low, relentless claim. I tugged his sweater off; he broke the kiss just long enough to toss it aside. The sight of his lean frame and the faint scar on his collarbone left me breathless. As I reached for him, he pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me harder.
He released my hands, and I shoved his chest, rolling us over until I was straddling him. He stripped off my whiskey-damp blouse and dropped it to the floor.
The cool air lingered only a moment before his mouth found the lace of my bra and the sensitive skin above it, making me gasp as my fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Xavier—”
“Tell me to stop,” he said against my skin, his voice rough.
I didn’t.
I undid his belt, his breath hitching. He helped shove his pants down and flipped us, pinning me beneath him. Feeling his hardness against my thighs, my last hesitation vanished.
Freya’s face flashed through my mind—the cold smile, the way she adjusted her necklace, the way she walked past me like I was already discarded.
Enjoy this, then.
I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“God, don’t you dare stop,” I rasped, lightheaded and starving for more after an hour of his relentless pace.
Xavier drove into me with a slow, punishing depth that blurred my vision. He paused for a heartbeat, pinning me to the sheets, savoring the way my body trembled around him.
“I’m in heat,” I gasped, fighting for breath. “And you… you’re a f*****g lycan. Do your magic!”
With every agonizing withdrawal and sudden plunge, the tension in my gut tightened. I arched my back, nails digging into his shoulders as a guttural groan ripped from my throat.
“I had no idea you were this starved,” he growled, the predatory rumble vibrating through my chest. He nipped my ear, his voice a dark husk. “Who knew you were such a filthy little Omega?”
Ciel was exicted. She had never behaved like this before and I agred this was f*****g intense.
Xavier drove into me with a slow, punishing depth that blurred my vision. He paused for a heartbeat, pinning me to the sheets, savoring the way my body trembled around him.
“I’m in heat,” I gasped, fighting for breath. “And you… you’re a f*****g lycan. Do your magic!”
With every agonizing withdrawal and sudden plunge, the tension in my gut tightened. I arched my back, nails digging into his shoulders as a guttural groan ripped from my throat.
“I had no idea you were this starved,” he growled, the predatory rumble vibrating through my chest. He nipped my ear, his voice a dark husk. “Who knew you were such a filthy little Omega?”
Ciel was exicted. She had never behaved like this before, and I agreed this was f*****g intense.
Xavier’s hand slid under my hip, hoisting me up. For a second, the world blurred, and I just lost it, clinging to him for dear life. He followed right after, letting out this low, ragged sound against the skin of my neck.
We stayed like that for a while, barely moving. The only thing filling the silence of the penthouse was the sound of us trying to catch our breath. The sweat was starting to make my skin feel chilled, and my blouse was nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor.
Then it actually sank in—Freya’s engagement ring, the Council probably watching us, and the fact that I was practically naked underneath my sister’s fiancé.
Xavier lifted his head. His violet eyes were dark and still half-wild. “That is…”
I opened my mouth to speak when his phone rang.
Neither of us moved. It stopped, then immediately started again.
Xavier’s jaw tightened. He reached for it without leaving the couch. The screen lit up for the third time.
A nervous male voice came through the speaker the moment he answered. “Mr. Beckett… sorry to bother you. It’s Miss Holloway, sir. She insists on coming up.”
Xavier’s eyes locked on mine. “That,” he repeated, “was a problem.”
- Writer
