Chapter 67: Episode 067: Can I mark you? [18+]
Rue didn’t say a word. She didn’t have any words left to give.
Her brain felt like it had been scrubbed clean, every thought and every logical wall completely erased by the rising tide of heat. She just nodded, once, a dazed, frantic motion that sent her hair spilling over her shoulders.
Knox let out a low, guttural groan. It was a sound that came from deep in his chest, a vibration that rattled through Rue’s own ribs as she pressed her body against his. It was the sound of a beast losing its final hold on the world.
He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her against the wall, his hands moving with a speed that was almost impossible to follow. With a single, sharp motion, he tore the delicate pink fabric of her dress.
The material gave way with a soft, tearing sound, falling in tatters around her feet until she was shivering against him in the cool air of the hallway.
Rue gasped, the sensation of his rough skin against her nerves making her knees buckle.
Knox caught her, his hands sliding over her waist, his thumbs digging into her skin. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive curve of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her ear.
"You have no idea," he growled, his voice a low, dirty rumble that sent a jolt of fire straight to her core, "how long I have spent imagining exactly this. Thinking about how you’d sound when you finally stopped fighting me."
Rue’s ears and cheeks turned a deep, burning crimson. She had never heard him speak like that—so raw, so possessive, and so completely unfiltered. The words made her feel dizzy, her head spinning as she felt his hands travel up her back, mapping her body with a possessive, hungry touch.
"Stop," Rue whispered, though the word was breathless and didn’t hold any actual request for him to end it.
"I won’t stop," he countered, his teeth nipping gently at her shoulder. "I told you, Rue. You invited the beast in. Now, you have to deal with the consequences."
His control snapped like a dry twig in a storm.
He lifted her up, his arm swinging easily behind her knees, and carried her the remaining few steps into the bedroom. He didn’t lay her down gently; he dropped her onto the thick furs of the stone bed, the softness of the material instantly swallowing her. He was over her in a heartbeat, his weight pressing down, solid and unyielding.
He was rough. His hands were heavy, his movements urgent and demanding, as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her skin in a single night.
But even as he let his predator hunger loose, as his hands gripped her hips and his mouth claimed hers with a fierce, crushing pressure, he was incredibly, painstakingly careful.
Every time he moved, he checked her reaction. When he traced the line of her collarbone with his claws, he adjusted his touch the second she flinched, making sure the pressure was exactly what she craved.
It was a strange, intoxicating balance. He gave in to his natural, wild instincts to dominate and to claim, but he layered it with a protective, deliberate softness that left Rue’s mind spinning.
She loved it. She loved that he was strong enough to crush her, yet he chose to hold her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.
She reached up, her fingers tangling in his dark, wind-tossed hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of his heat, wanting to lose herself entirely in the friction of his body against hers. She didn’t think about the palace. She didn’t think about Caius, or the mission to the North, or the ticking clock in the air.
There was only the scent of him, the taste of his skin, and the overwhelming feeling of finally being completely and utterly claimed.
She had not always been like this, but it was probably because she had been exposed to sex with Caius and being a mother.
Knox moved with a rhythm that felt like it had been written into his blood. He whispered things against her skin, crude, possessive, and wildly honest things, that made her skin flush even hotter. He only cared about the woman beneath him, the girl who had fought him for months and had finally, tonight, stopped fighting.
The air in the room grew thick, charged with the scent of their shared desperation. Rue felt like she was drowning, but it was a beautiful, necessary kind of drowning. Every time his hands slid over her, every time his breath hitched near her ear, the fire in her chest surged, turning from a heat into a roaring, golden flame.
But then, as the tension reached a peak that felt like it might snap the very fabric of the world, Knox stopped.
He didn’t pull away, but he froze.
He dragged himself up, his chest heaving, his muscles coiled like springs under the strain of his own restraint. He was sweating, his golden eyes glowing in the bedroom’s dim light. His fangs were fully extended, two sharp points pressing against his lower lip as he laboured to draw in breath.
He looked at her, his expression a chaotic mix of raw hunger and a terrified, desperate need for permission. He looked like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, waiting for her to tell him whether to jump or to turn back.
He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against hers. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his face. His chest was crashing against her own, his heart beating a frantic, uneven rhythm that matched the chaos in her own body.
He stayed there for a long time, just breathing, trying to dampen the wild fire that was consuming them both.
He looked deep into her eyes, his pupils blown out, his expression so fragile it almost broke her heart. He was waiting. He was giving her one last chance to pull away, one last chance to regain her logic and her distance.
He opened his mouth, his voice a ragged, desperate whisper that barely carried over the sound of their breathing.
"Can I mark you?"
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