We’re running out of time… For both him and Amelia.
Chapter Four
Elijah
I do it. I release the hold I had on this small space of reality and let him leave. But only because I’m this fucking close to killing the mother fucker. Every single day is another test of my strength in not ripping him limb from limb. He’s lucky I have Luna, and the entire fallen race to keep me from ruining him.
Leon turns around and immediately stalks into his room, still soaked in his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. I groan out in frustration and turn on my heels, my hands already seeking Luna’s skin while Nathanial turns towards Stella.
“Don’t forget about the party, Leon! Ruby and Aura will be here in two hours!” Stella shouts through his door.
This fucking party. I’m only putting up with it because it was Luna’s idea. She knows that none of us will celebrate Christmas… that’s actually a great fucking joke. But the traditions and decorations surrounding the secular translation? I can tolerate that—for her.
“Mo dheamon,” I whisper in Luna’s ear as I grip her waist tightly. I step us forward, and catch Nathanial pulling Stella back into his hold by her hair. He’s muttering something to her, probably things I don’t want to hear. But my attention is secured on my Fated, while her ice flows through my heated blood, calming me in the times I need it most and solidifying my strength at others. “Go.” I push her forward and towards the door to our bedroom. She pauses momentarily, but when I wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck she obeys my demand.
“Please, do not keep her long, Elijah. I need her help finishing the decorations,” Stella quickly says, just as I push open our door and throw Luna into our room.
“Use my brother. Luna will be busy for a while.” Stella opens her mouth to refute, but Nathanial slams his hand over her lips before she can speak. He grips her wrists in between his fingers and tugs them behind her back, pulling her down the rest of the hallway while I shut Luna and I in our room.
“We should discuss our plans for Amelia moving forward. Now that Leon has made contact—” I begin speaking as I turn on my heels in order to face Luna. I expect to see her facing me, waiting to converse over this new information. But I’m surprised to find her turned away, her hands lifted and slipping into the back of her hair as she pulls it over one shoulder.
"We should," she replies, glancing over to me briefly before turning around and stepping back until she sits on the edge of our bed. She braces her hands behind her, shoulders pulled back while my eyes immediately drop to rake over her body. Tight, dark wash jeans and a low cut, Burgundy silk tank. That's what she's wearing.
Did she wear that in the bathroom with Leon? Fuck, I'll kill him if he looked at her with anything but brotherly-fucking-intentions.
"Have you been wearing that all night?" I ask, stepping towards her. She glances down quickly, and I can feel the spike in her pulse as my eyes narrow on her flushed skin. Her eyes stay glued to the floor as she refuses to meet my gaze again. Mother fucker, she has been.
In an instant, her eyes snap up to mine and I can feel the defensive heat rolling through our blood. She stands and steps towards me, her chest coming flat against my own. "I can wear whatever I want, Elijah."
My lips lift in a confident smile, she knows what she's doing. Pushing me, teasing me, testing my patience with her rebellion. My hand darts forward and my fingers wrap around her throat as I stalk us both towards the bed. "Yeah? Can you?" I dip my head forward, brushing my lips against her ear while her breath races in the space between us. Her hands lift and grip the arm that's pressed against her. She tries to pull my hand free of her throat, but it's useless. I'm not letting her go now.
"Elijah," she says breathlessly, and I drag my teeth across the edge of her jaw while I tighten my hold on her. This is what I love, the sight of my marked skin decorating her creamy flesh. Always opposites, her and I. She's the actual other half of my soul, and while she constantly pushes me towards the edge, she's the one lighting my blood on fire with her pleas for more.
"You know what you do look good in, mo dheamon?" My voice drops lower, the instinctual growl working its way through my tone. I can't control it anymore, she draws out this primal hunt inside of me. I’m always stalking her, always feeling for her, always demanding more of her.
"What?" she asks, and I can't help but smirk at the craving need she not only speaks but radiates through our bond.
“This.” I press my fingers tightly against the soft skin under her jaw. “My hand around your neck, my skin against yours.”
She moans softly, her blood working through mine while our bond flourishes between us. It’s thriving, with every word, every cry, every moan, each touch. Her fingers drag across my skin while she tries to maintain even breaths.
I’ll never get used to this, the electrical vibrations rolling under our skin when we’re together. It’s a blend of our blood, the bond, our Fated connection and what we have together. It’s so incredibly different than anything I ever experienced before, and it feeds every ounce of hunger inside of me with everything that is Luna.
Quickly, I flip Luna around so that her back is pressed against my chest. I slide my forearm across the front of her neck and pull back, forcing her to arch against me, pressing her sweet little ass into my already strained cock. I roll my hips against hers, pushing into her through the barrier of clothes between us. My other hand falls to her stomach, my fingers dropping lower until I slip them underneath the edge of her silk top.
“You’re lucky I don’t kill Leon for looking at you,” I whisper against her neck, brushing my lips across her skin until I bite down on the thin skin over her shoulder.
“Elijah, you know it’s never anything like that.”
“I don’t fucking care, it would give me a reason to be rid of him.” My fingers drop lower so that I can quickly unbutton her jeans and slide my hand down the front of her panties. I pull her against me, using my hand to drag her back while I roll forward again. She gasps, her breath hitching in her throat when my finger finds her clit. Hell, she’s so wet—I fucking love it.
I pull my hand out and brush it against her lips, until she’s forced to open her mouth and I can shove my fingers inside. “Taste yourself, mo dheamon. Can you even control how I fucking affect you?”
She sucks, bringing my fingers even further down her throat until she gags and tenses around my touch. I laugh, pushing even farther this time until I hear that sweet sound again.
“So fucking sweet,” I grind out. “That sound.” Suddenly, I shove her forward, until she’s bent over the edge of the bed and my hands find her waist. I pull her ass back and against my cock again, rocking into her while she moans against my hold.
I slide my hands up the center of her back, pushing her farther into the mattress and come back down so that my fingers slide under the waistband of her jeans. Yanking them down, along with her panties, I expose her pretty ass entirely. Her pale skin is marked in shallow bruises of what we’ve done nights before. Remnants of our wars, our heated moments of uncontrolled attraction.