Day five. I'm going insane.
The isolation is crushing. The bond is worse. Every hour away from Rian, the ache grows—chest tight, breathing difficult, skin too sensitive.
When he brings dinner, I'm curled on the bed, trying not to show how much it hurts.
"Luca." He's beside me instantly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Leave me alone."
His hand touches my forehead. "You're burning up. How long have you been like this?"
"Since you locked me in here!" I snap. "This is your fault!"
Realization crosses his face. "The bond. You need proximity, and I've been keeping distance." He curses. "I was trying to give you space."
"Well congratulations, it's killing me."
He sits on the bed, pulling me into his lap. I should fight. But the moment I'm against him, relief floods through me. The pain eases. I can breathe again.
I hate how good it feels.
"Better?" he murmurs.
I don't answer. Don't want to give him the satisfaction.
His arms tighten around me. "I won't leave you alone that long again. The bond needs maintenance."
"I need freedom."
"You need me." His hand slides up my back. "Whether you admit it or not."
We sit like that—me in his lap, his arms around me. It should be uncomfortable. Threatening. Instead, it's the first peace I've felt in days.
"Why me?" I finally ask. "Why claim me?"
"Because you're mine." He says it like it's obvious. "Fated mates aren't chosen, Luca. They're recognized. The moment I saw you, my wolf knew. You're the other half of my soul."
"That's insane."
"That's truth." His fingers trace patterns on my back. "You feel it too. Even through the anger, you feel it."
I do. God help me, I do.
"I won't stay willingly," I whisper.
"You won't have to stay willingly." His voice is dark velvet. "You'll stay because leaving hurts. Because the bond won't let you go. And eventually, you'll realize you don't want to go."
"You're so sure."
"I'm certain." He tilts my face up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You're mine, Luca Carter. And I take care of what's mine."
His thumb brushes my lower lip. I should bite him. Instead, I'm frozen, staring into those golden eyes.
"I'm going to kiss you now," he says. "You can fight me. But we both know you don't really want to."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
His lips touch mine—soft at first, testing. When I don't pull away, he deepens it. His tongue slides against mine, and heat explodes through my body.
I kiss him back. Can't help it. The bond sings between us, and my body is desperate for more.
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. He kisses down my neck, teeth grazing the mark.
I moan. Actually moan.
He growls against my skin, the sound vibrating through me. "Mine."
"Not yours," I gasp, but it's weak. Unconvincing.
"Liar." His hand slides under my shirt, finding bare skin. "Say it. Say you're mine."
"No—"
He bites my mark. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to send pleasure-pain racing through me. I cry out, arching into him.
"Say it," he demands.
"I'm—I can't—"
"Say. It."
His hand wraps around my erection through my pants, squeezing. I'm so hard it hurts.
"I'm yours!" I gasp. "God, I'm yours, just please—"
"Please what?"
"Touch me. Please touch me."
His smile against my neck is triumphant. "Good boy."