The Beta's Blood: Rewritten

Chapter Five

The room was dim, cast in warm amber light from a setting sun that streamed through the high windows. Jameson gently laid Ace on the bed, his movements delicate, almost reverent. The door clicked shut behind him with finality, and he turned the lock before dragging both dressers in front of it. A fortress of desperation.

Ace blinked at the sound. Had Felix really left her? Guilt lanced through her chest like a blade. This is the second time I’ve hurt him... but I tried. I really did try to run, she reasoned.

Her gaze darted across the room, cataloging every object, every possible exit. I have to get out. While I still can. While I’m still thinking clearly. But then Jameson knelt at her side.

He took her injured arm in his hands with surprising gentleness, eyes soft with grief. A warm pulse of energy spread from his palm into her bruised skin, easing the ache, coaxing away the sharp edges of the pain.

His voice broke into her thoughts raw and ragged. “All this time . . .” he breathed. His eyes, so often fierce, shimmered now with unshed tears. “Being apart from you, it’s been hell. I’ve been going insane without you.”

Ace’s heart cracked. Despite everything, the sight of him vulnerable, begging, still ignited something deep and dangerous inside her. He cupped her cheek. “How could you let him touch you?” He whispered, voice breaking. “You’re mine, Ace. How could you stop loving me so easily?”

The words struck harder than any blow. She stared at him, silent, wounded, her chest tight with truths too dangerous to say. “I haven’t,” she said at last, barely above a whisper. “But I have no choice but to push forward. If I don’t, my family dies.”

She allowed her fingertips to brush his jawline, grazing the dark stubble that had grown. Jameson moved closer, forehead pressed gently to hers. His breath trembled between them. “No they won’t,” he murmured. “I’ll fix it. I swear, I can fix everything.”

Ace closed her eyes. It would be so easy to believe him. So easy to fall for the lie. But she’d seen the iron grip his father held over him . . . over everything.

Jameson’s mouth brushed her neck. Hot, desperate and possessive. A low growl vibrated against her throat. “I can still smell him on you.”

She gasped, the brush of his lips against her skin sending a cascade of little tingles that unraveled every tightly held thread inside her. Her body betrayed her, arching toward him instinctively. She forgot they were still bare from the shift, she forgot everything but the way he felt.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, lips ghosting over her pulse. “I won’t mark you . . . not yet, but I will have you.” His mouth traced the slope of her neck, and every nerve in her body sang with want, need and confusion. His touch was slow, reverent, like a man who believed this was the last moment he’d ever have her.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “And you’re mine. All mine.” Each word wrapped around her like a binding spell. She felt herself folding under the weight of everything, his body, his words, the undeniable bond, weak, yet still pulsing between them. She wanted to run, and she wanted to stay. She wanted to scream, and she wanted to surrender.

His hands moved with care, trailing down her sides, mapping the curves of her body like they were sacred. Their mouths met again, this time he tasted her, the kiss was slower, deeper. It wasn’t just passion, it was desperation. A form of worship. A need that had been denied for too long.

Their kiss turned into something fuller, something that drew out soft gasps and stifled sobs. Jameson held her as if she would disappear. She clung to him like he was the only thing still tethering her to the earth.

He brushed his hand between her thighs, then pushed his fingers inside her. Her body instinctively arched, and he caught her soft sigh in his throat. “Mmm.” He hummed against her lips.

He kissed her again, a tentative brush that sent a jolt through her spine. Then he deepened it, and she responded in kind, tilting her head, pressing closer, tasting him as he continued to pleasure her. An intense feeling slowly began to build, eventually exploding within her. A soft moan escaped as the feeling spread throughout her body, leaving her trembling.

Without warning, Jameson removed his hand and climbed carefully over top of her. Skin brushing skin, until his lower half pressed up against hers. “Jameson, I've never-” “It’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” His voice was soft and sure. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, the world fell away into silence until finally; she nodded, giving him the permission he was waiting for. He entered her slowly; she gasped at the unfamiliar sensation and let her body ease into it.

“You have to relax.” He breathed, touching his forehead to hers, stilling himself, allowing her time to adjust. “I’m going to move again,” His voice was smooth like velvet. She bit her lip, nerves fluttering, and nodded. The feeling of being filled was intense and uncomfortable at first, but the sensation soon shifted into something deeply pleasurable.

Their movements, began to echo each other, like a dance no one had taught them but they both instinctively knew. Every subtle shift of weight, every glance, every touch fanned the heat that simmered between them.

It was a closeness that neither rushed nor resisted, a magnetic pull that left them lightheaded yet rooted in each other. The two moved together in tandem until a warmth spread throughout her lower belly and Jameson settled to a stop, their breaths mingling.

The quiet after was a gentle, almost sacred kind of silence. Their breaths still came in slow, uneven rhythms, hearts pounding in tandem as the warmth of their bodies settled into the lingering heat of the sheets.

He came to lay beside her, and she rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of him beneath her ear. He traced lazy circles along her back with a fingertip, a soft, absentminded rhythm that made her sigh contentedly. Every so often, their fingers twined, a simple connection that spoke louder than words ever could.

“I could stay like this forever,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, hushed by sleep and exhaustion. “Me too,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the faint scent of her hair. “You’re perfect like this . . . right here, right now.”

They shifted slightly, settling into each other’s curves, the world outside forgotten. Her eyelids fluttered as the weight of the day and the intimacy they had shared pulled her toward sleep. His arm tightened around her, protective, grounding, as if holding her close could keep the moment from ending.

Soft breaths became slower, then even, until finally, she drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the arms of the mate who had once rejected her . . . the one she could never truly stop loving. The last thing she felt before surrendering to her dreams was his lips brushing her temple.