Page 29 of Forbidden Bonds
He feeds me. Feeding me leads to fucking me. Now I’m clean,again, having just showered,again,witha towel wrapped around me. As I stare at my reflection in the guest bathroom, I wonder how the hell I ended up here. Three weeks ago, I was living in a constant state of stress, awaiting the next terror to descend. And then Ethan Black stormed into my life. I still don’t want to think about what we did in that nesting chamber, or, worse, my reaction to him—how I wanted him, even though he was a mated alpha.
I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself, nor come to terms with the way my body betrayed me. Mistakes litter my past, constant iterations, so many terrible things that I have done. Ethan is probably the least damning, yet he is recent and lingers the most.
And then I arrived at Chimera, and it soon became evident that Ethan Black was going rogue and that a new kind of misery was waiting for me at the hands of a ruthless criminal with whom he happens to be friends.
But then, Lucian gave me to Rhett.
And Rhett? Well, that’s complicated. I’ve not scratched the surface of this man. He’s younger than me. By how much, I’m not sure. However, our potential age difference is the least of my concerns.
It’s a lot to wrap your head around, and that’s not even taking into account that episode of crazy monkey sex that just went down in my nest, and the couch, nor the fact that I wanted it… desperately.
He’s ruined my nest. And me. Yeah, he’s definitely ruined me. Only not in the way one thinks of ruination. This destruction is the softer kind that takes place in your heart.
Only animal instincts,I tell myself. This time I recognize them for a lie.
The man has skills and the way he knows how to make me climax is worthy of a gold star… a row of them… like, fill that page. And I’ve been so starved of intimacy of any kind that it’s not surprising it leaves me so enthralled.
The water has washed his cum from me along with his scent, but the deep bite mark at my throat, and the littering of bruises offer a reminder of my new status, of being mated. Not only that, but a connection is burrowing in the center of my chest. Sometimes it tickles, sometimes it feels hot, and at yet other times, it pulses with discord.
It’s quiet now, a comforting awareness of him being close and dressing in the main bedroom, leaving me alone momentarily. But he’s not far away, and I can feel him. I would rather see him. I feel terribly clingy for admitting that.
The woman who stares back at me in the mirror has glowing skin and bright eyes.
I look alive. I feel alive. Like I’ve woken up from a terrible nightmare.
I’m still waiting, I realize, for the end date to arrive. Temporary: that’s what this feels like. Like I’ve stepped outof my designated timeline and I’m experiencing something extraordinary, all the while waiting for a divine force to shove me back into hell.
The gods. Fate. Just bad luck.
My life thread and all the horrors on it are waiting for me. Perhaps it will be the Empire's minions who experiment this time. Soon, the interrogations will begin. And how can I blame them? I’ve been with the enemy for ten years. They must suspect my assimilation, empathy for that cause, maybe that I’m a plant, or a threat.
I’m so tired of being strong, and of being alone.
The bathroom door flies open, making me start, and Rhett is standing there, chest heaving.
He’s wearing a faded orange T-shirt with a pop-art style gecko on the front. It has its tongue out. It’s doing a one-fingered salute. He appears to have an array of them in slightly different poses. Sweatpants and no shoes complete his look. Hair damp from his shower.
Hot. Scruffy. And bristling with anger...
“What the fuck is going on?” he demands looking around the bathroom like a threat might manifest out of thin air.
“What do you mean?” I’ve been in my own head too long. Maybe I zoned out?
He also looks young. It was easy to discount at first. He has a presence despite his leaner build. I catalog with growing alarm the absence of any lines on his face. “How old are you?” I demand.
“Old? What the fuck, Larissa?”
He stalks me.
I back up, a squeak escaping me when he grips me around the waist and drops my ass onto the bathroom vanity. His purring is loud and uneven. He crowds me back, insinuating hisbody between my open legs, his alpha pheromones swamping my senses.
“You’re upset. What is it? What’s happened? Was I too rough with you?”
He pushes my damp hair over my shoulder and then stills. His sigh is heavy. He leans back a little and opens the wall cabinet next to us. Rummaging inside, he takes out antiseptic and a sterile dressing, placing them on the counter beside me.
He tips my head gently to the side and traces his fingers gently around the sore flesh.
All I can think about is how close he is, how my breathing goes a little haywire, and his scent makes me slick and needy between my legs.
