Page 40 of Midnight Deception

Would he ever warm up to them and change his views? Could this ever be something that could work? There’s only one way to know.

“Why do you hate werewolves so much?” I ask the question so quietly that at first, I think he’s fallen asleep and not heard me, but the hitch in his breathing gives him away. There’s some trauma behind his reasons, I know that much from Madame Constance’s slip when she told me about an attack, but I want to understand him fully, and I think this will help me do that.

Letting out a long sigh, he tightens his arms around me, clearing his throat. “When I was a child, I lived a fairly sheltered life. My family liked to live on the edge of our society, close enough to know what was happening, but far enough away that we were kept out of court drama,” he explains, his voice even. His hand moves up and down my arm, brushing the skin gently with his fingers. I get the feeling it’s more of a self-soothing technique to keep his hands busy, but I stay quiet as he continues.

“One night, I snuck from the house to meet a friend. We hadn’t been out for long when things changed. I can’t explain it, but around midnight I got a feeling that something was really wrong. Following those instincts, I ran back home like the guardian of the underworld was chasing me without saying a word to my friend. When I arrived there, I found the door smashed off its hinges.”

My chest tightens, dread filling me as I know what’s about to come, but desperately hoping that I’m wrong.

“When I stepped into the house, the scent of death surrounded me. I have no idea how I knew that, but I justknew.” He emphasises the last word, his voice shaking a little. He pauses to take a deep breath and clears his throat. “The house was trashed, and as I made my way to the bedrooms to check on my family, I heard a noise. Thinking it was my sister, I hurried through and found a rabid werewolf dragging her torn and mangled corpse.”

Turning in his arms, I solemnly look up at his face. His eyes are distant, lost in his memories of that awful night.

“It was clear she was dead,” he continues. “She was as pale as a sheet, and her open eyes were glassy. It was more than that though. My sister always had such a big, bright personality, and everything felt darker somehow, like the world had lost a light. In that moment, I lost control of my power.” He frowns, shaking his head at his past actions, but I can’t say I blame him. I probably would have lost control in the same situation.

“It exploded out of me, icicles the size of baseball bats firing outward. Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t even have time to aim, but the wolf was hit anyway—six icicles in its body, and one through its eye. When I was sure it was dead, I made my way through the rest of the house, already knowing what I was going to find.” His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when they open again, he reluctantly meets mine, as if expecting me to be horrified by what he’d done. I am horrified, but not with him.

When I don’t immediately scream and try to scrabble from his arms in terror, he seems to gain confidence, his arms tightening around me slightly, our connection helping to strengthen him as well. “My whole family was murdered that night, and I used my power to kill. That sort of thing changes you, changes your magic, even if it was in self-defence.” Scanning my face, he continues his story. “Luna’s family took me in after that. They lived in Haven, so I was immediately surrounded by court life. I had a lot of anger after that, and that’s when I was approached…”

He trails off, and I know he’s talking about the werewolf hating sect that Maliki is currently heading up. He almost seems embarrassed by that fact now, where before it’d been something he was proud of. When did that change, and did my run-in with Maliki have anything to do with it?

“Their views towards wolves are extreme, and they only encouraged my hatred to grow. Luna tried to get me out of it, and I began to distance myself from them. Some of their views are too strong, even for me. I don’t agree with killing children, even if they are werewolves.”

“And then I came along.” I give him a small, tight smile and rest my hand against his chest, right over his heart where I can feel its steady beat. “I’m sorry that happened to you, I really am. I’ve lost loved ones, and it’s not easy.” My throat tightens at the mention of loss, an image of my adoptive mother flashing in my mind. I miss her every single day, and she died because of cancer, a death that we knew was coming. For Atlas, he lost his three closest family members so suddenly, and in such a cruel way. I don’t know how old he was at the time, but he makes it sound like he was in his early teens. That sort of thing is bound to have an effect on you, especially a child.

I understand him so much better now. His hatred makes sense, as a werewolf took away his family and his home, changing his life forever. If you don’t know any different, you’re going to assume that all werewolves are this way, especially when even mentioning the species in Haven causes people to flinch. Then Maliki’s sect reached out to him while he was grieving and vulnerable, and they recruited him to their cause. It’s amazing that he’s loosened up as much as he has around me.

I pause before I speak again, trying to work out how to phrase my next words. The last thing I want him to think is that I’m trying to defend this werewolf’s actions, but I need him to realise that we’re not all like that.

“From the way you describe the attack, it sounds like the wolf was a rogue.” He frowns in confusion, and I quickly jump to explain. “When a werewolf isn’t surrounded by a pack or they are shunned from their pack, they fall prey to their more vicious natures and go feral. I’m not just using the term lightly. They literally turn feral, their brains twisting and making them killers.” My hand moves across his chest as I speak, the feel of his muscled chest grounding me.

“We hunt them down because they are a risk to us as well. That one werewolf did a terrible thing, but the rest of us aren’t like that. I promise.” By the time I finish my sentence, my voice is breathy. I’m trying to have a moment with him and help him understand that the attack was a heinous act and something we wouldn’t have sanctioned. I don’t mention the fact that there are some terrible werewolves who do horrible things whoarein packs, but then the same can be applied to witches. There are twisted people wherever you go.

However, my bond is ruining the moment, deciding that the best way to comfort us both is by havingmorephysical contact.

“You’re not like that,” he murmurs, his voice deep and pupils wide as his hungry eyes run over my body, catching on where my nipples are straining through my pyjamas.

“No, I’m not,” I agree, not really focused on what I’m agreeing with any longer. We’re almost nose to nose now, and somehow, I find my chest pressed against his.

My stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies as arousal floods me, my core clenching as I get wet simply from being here with him. The next thing I know, I’m straddling his hips, gasping as I grip onto his shoulders. I know our bond is encouraging this, drawing us together, but I want him. No, Ineedhim, and from the desperation on his face, I know the feeling is mutual.

I’m not sure what the trigger is, but we surge forward, our lips clashing together, all tongues and teeth, as we kiss. There’s nothing gentle about it. His hands span my waist, and he holds me down so I can feel his hard dick beneath me. I can’t help but rock my hips to gain friction. I moan into his mouth, not able to put into words how fucking much I need this. The urge to tear off his clothes and mount him is so fierce that each second we’re not completely naked together is torture. The bond drives us closer, making us ravenous for each other, overriding rational thought.

That makes me pause as I realise what we’re doing.

“Wait,” I pant, pulling from his kiss and resting my forehead against his. “We can’t bond. Not until I’m sure you’re doing it foryou, and not because the bond forced you to.” My words are breathless, but my brain is working enough to be firm on this.

What I’ve said is true. If we bond, everything will be different, and I don’t want to be forced into something he might regret because our connection makes us horny. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I have to think about the potential consequences, not to mention I couldn’t possibly fuck him while Nicolai is locked away somewhere, my guilt cutting through my desire.

At first, I think he’s going to argue as he pulls back enough to take in my expression. However, he surprises me by simply nodding, a slow, wicked smile curving his lips. “The bond can only be completed through sex,” he points out, confirming my suspicion that the process works the same with witches as it does with werewolves. Clicking his tongue, he trails his eyes over my body, his hot gaze making my skin tingle with the raw intent I see written across his face. “There’s so much we can do that doesn’t involve that.”

My pussy clenches tightly at his grin and dirty suggestion.Oh yes, my mind purrs, a hundred percent on board with this plan. Biting down on my lip, I start to rock against him again. He rubs his thumb across my lower lip, freeing it before sliding his hand along my jaw and to the back of my neck, burying his fingers into my hair and using it to pull me forward. Our kisses may not be slow, but they are passionate and full of the feelings neither of us can admit aloud.

Using his other hand, he slips it under the smooth material of the pyjamas to cup my breast in his large hand, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I groan, gripping on for dear life, my nails digging into his shoulders as I grind against his covered dick. He growls against me, biting down on my lower lip almost to the point of pain. He releases my nipple and whips my top off in quick, practised motions.

I snarl at the thought of him with anyone else. I know my mates have all been with females before me, but even just the thought of him touching another woman, of him emptying himself into her, almost pushes me into a rage. Growling into his kisses, I grip onto him tighter as my anger and desire morph together.

“There’s no one else, there hasn’t been for a long time,” he promises, twisting us so my back is pressed against the bed and he’s above me. I don’t know if he was able to pick up on my feelings via the bond or he just guessed what my sudden anger was about. As he stares down at me, there’s a fierceness in his eyes. “Only you.”

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