Chapter 13 - Marcus
It had been six years.
Six years of searching.
Six years of longing.
Six years of regret.
Six years of ache.
And now Athena was in his arms again.
Marcus poured it all into the desperate press of his lips against hers.
He wasn’t gentle. He couldn’t be. His hunger was old and deep and angry, and it came out in the way he kissed her—like a man starved for a taste he never thought he would get again.
She gasped into his mouth, her magic sparking white-hot between them, crackling through the air like a live wire. The scent of her filled his head, and his wolf pushed against his skin, snarling with need.
He walked her backward until her spine hit the rough, crumbling church wall, the stone biting into her back, grounding them both.
His hands slid down to grip her waist, fingers pressing into her like he needed to make sure she was real. She was warm, alive, trembling—and here.
He kissed her harder, drinking her in. His mouth moved with urgency, his lips fierce and unforgiving as they devoured hers. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be. He sucked on her lower lip until she moaned into him, and the sound drove him nearly feral.
The taste of her—fuck—was everything. It sent his wolf howling in his head, demanding more.
She arched into him with a whimper, and a dark satisfaction bloomed in his chest. Her body remembered him. Even after all these years, it still knew his touch. It still responded.
Their teeth clashed, and his heartbeat thundered like war drums in his chest, straining and desperate.
Her nails scraped down his neck, but he didn’t flinch. The sting only made him growl low in his throat, primal and needy. His tongue swept against hers in a possessive stroke, claiming.
His hands slipped from her waist and roamed, stroking down to her hips as he pulled her even closer. She fit into him perfectly, like muscle memory—like fate.
He wanted to feel every inch of her again. He wanted to—
“No,” Athena breathed sharply.
She tore her mouth from his with a ragged gasp, like the kiss had jolted something sharp and important off her memory.
Marcus froze.
Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, but her green eyes were wide with devastation, stripped of the desire that had burned there just seconds before.
She looked afraid. Not of him. But of herself. Of what they had just done. Of what it could mean.
And that look shattered him.
“Athena—”
“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice frayed at the edges. Like speaking to him was suddenly too much.
He loosened his grip on her instantly.
She pressed a shaking hand to his chest, a silent push for space as her magic flickered between them erratically.
“I can’t,” she whispered as her voice cracked.