Page 453 of Hate Mates

He’s across the room, his gaze focused on me, heat simmering behind his dark eyes. It’s like a physical pull, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if I should give in. Satisfy this craving.

I shake my head quickly, trying to dismiss the thought. Akira is still talking, but his words barely register. My chest tightens, and I murmur a quick excuse, heading for the back door. The cool night air on the balcony does little to calm the fire ignited within me.

I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself. But when I turn around, he’s there—standing in the shadows, watching me.

“It’s a little creepy, you know,” I say, my voice sharper than intended.

He shrugs, a half smile curving his lips. “You complained about me startling you before, so I waited. Plus,” he adds, his gaze dipping briefly to myfurisode, “you look absolutely stunning in my present,hime.”

Hime—princess. I can’t help the soft laugh that escapes me. “I’m anything but a princess, Takashi-sama.”

“Call me Taka, please.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, and my eyes dart toward the party inside. The last thing I need is to spark rumors that could hurt my family even more.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reading my thoughts with unnerving ease. “There’s nothing untoward going on.”

“I beg to differ. You’re a betrothed man, and I’m a single woman—and we’re alone on a balcony.”

The thought should scare me, but instead, it excites me. A flood of heat rushes through me, unbidden images flashing across my mind: his hands on me, our bodies tangled. Where on earth is this coming from?

“Who says I’m betrothed?” he counters smoothly, his voice low. “And who says you’re single?”

I cock my head to the side, disbelief tightening my chest. “You’re demented.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, and I bite my tongue, expecting anger. Instead, he laughs—a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Oh,koibito,” he murmurs, his tone teasing yet unmistakably intimate. “I hope you keep that fire for as long as we live.”

Koibito? Sweetheart. His sweetheart?

“Are you drunk?” I ask, more to steady myself than anything else.

“On you? Yes.”

His words steal the air from my lungs as he steps closer. Instinctively, I retreat, my back pressing against the cool rail of the balcony.

But he doesn’t stop. His movements are slow and calculated, like a predator closing in on its prey. And when his body finally brushes against mine, a wave of heat washes over me, making my pulse race.

His hand lifts, cupping my cheek, and before I realize it, I’m leaning into his touch instead of pulling away. The warmth of his skin grounds me, even as the world feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asks, his voice softer now, threaded with something deeper. “It was always supposed to end like this. Your soul and mine are connected throughenishi. Meeting you was no coincidence.”

I shake my head slightly, but I don’t break the connection of his hand on my cheek. The weight of his words makes my chest tighten, even as his touch feels like the only thing tethering me to the earth.

“It’s just a story,” I whisper, though my voice lacks conviction.

“But it’s not, is it?” His gaze pierces mine, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “Tell me you don’t feel it—that when our eyes met for the first time, you didn’t feel the pull. I heardkokoro no yobigoe—the call of your heart—and my soul answered.”

His words are irrational, poetic, impossible. I should laugh, push him away, dismiss it all as beautiful lies meant to get under my skin. And yet, I can’t deny the truth that burns in me: I did feel it. That pull. That inexplicable connection.

Even if there’s no future in this, even if it’s a ploy, I fear I’ll never feel this kind of passion again. And that fear drives me to give in.

“Kiss me,” I breathe out, the words barely audible.

His dark eyes flare, the glimpse of control slipping away before he steps closer, his movements sure and commanding. His hands rise to cup my face, his touch firm yet tender, as his lips capture mine. The kiss is consuming, igniting every nerve in my body. His mouth moves over mine with skill and hunger, his tongue coaxing mine to meet his.

I melt against him, clutching at the silk of his black kimono, feeling the smooth fabric beneath my fingers. He tastes like sake and something darker—something that feels like power wrapped in seduction. The world disappears, the party and the city fading into irrelevance. All that matters is him.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing shallow. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,hime,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. “If we do this, you’re mine. Entirely. Forever.”

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