Chapter 36: My Mate
Vivian Grey’s POV
Why did he feel everything so deeply? Why did I always end up like this, pinned beneath him, overwhelmed, trapped beneath the weight of emotions I didn’t ask for?
"What’s the matter, my sweet little mate?" His voice brushed across my skin like silk, soft and laced with affection. But beneath the warmth, I heard it, something sharp, something cold. His tone may have sounded gentle to the untrained ear, but I knew better. I could feel the undercurrent of fury threading through each word. "The problem is, you touched another male. You flirted with him. And then you had the nerve to wink at him."
His hand slid slowly down my arm, around my waist, and curved beneath my back. Fingers spread wide, pulling me into him. My body betrayed me by pressing closer. His scent clouded everything, warm cedar, dark musk, and something wild that made my pulse stutter. His other hand tangled gently into my hair, holding me in place as he leaned on one elbow, caging me in.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I whispered, trying to breathe through the storm gathering inside me.
He laughed, low and without a shred of amusement.
"Don’t lie to me," he growled. "That pup at the restaurant. Jedadiah." He spat the name out like poison. My eyes widened. That’s what this was about? He was furious over the kid who’d waited our table?
I shook my head, heat prickling across my skin. "No. I wasn’t flirting. He was just—"
Zaliver’s face hardened. He pulled back just far enough to snarl at me, his lips curled and his eyes wild, causing me to shrink instinctively beneath him.
"I don’t care!" he snapped. "You touched him. You flirted. You winked at him. Have you already forgotten what I told you?" His voice was soft again, maddeningly soft. He spoke like he was reciting a love poem, but his words struck like cold steel. My bones trembled. Even my wolf was unsure, fascinated by this primal side of him, while I was afraid.
"Don’t hurt him! Please!" I gasped, sensing a dangerous shift in him.
His eyes narrowed. "What? You care about him now? Tell me, do you have feelings for the boy?"
His voice was rough and tight, yet I caught something underneath it, something raw and real. Panic.
"Zaliver, you’re overreacting! I don’t even know the kid!" I tried reasoning with him, searching his stormy gaze for some sanity. "He’s just a boy."
"And I’m a man," he hissed. "A man who can give you everything you need. He could never take care of you. But me?" His face lowered, his nose brushing down mine, then across my cheek. "I can do things for you no one else can."
And suddenly, I understood.
Jealousy.
Zaliver, my possessive, lethal, six-hundred-year-old mate, was jealous. Of Jedadiah. A teenager who’d spilled a drink and gone pink when I winked at him. I had approximately two seconds to sit with how absurd that was before his lips crashed onto mine and the thought dissolved entirely.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was wildfire, fast, consuming, and dangerous. And my body responded in kind, as if it had been waiting, aching for this exact chaos.
He kissed me like he wanted to erase any memory of anyone who came before him. His lips moved against mine with a fervor I’d never felt before, like a dam had broken inside him and every suppressed emotion was pouring into me. I arched into him, trying to get closer, to anchor myself as the heat flared low and deep in my belly.
But he pulled back just enough to torture me. His hand still in my hair, holding me in place, kept our lips a breath apart. I tried to meet him halfway, desperate to feel him again, but he wouldn’t let me. My moan escaped before I could stop it.
What was happening to me?
He sucked on my bottom lip before biting it, not enough to break skin, but enough to sting. And then his tongue swept over it, soothing the pain, undoing me all over again.
Thoughts were a blur. The argument, Jedadiah, his fury, none of it mattered anymore. Just when I thought he’d kiss me again, he stopped. His eyes were unreadable as he stared down at me.
"I’ll get the results tomorrow," he said, voice suddenly steady. "To see if our bodies are truly compatible. I don’t know what they’ll say, but one thing’s certain."
I blinked up at him, breathless, my mind still reeling. "What?"
He leaned in, his voice like a vow. "By tomorrow night, there will be a mark on you. Something to show you’re mine."
Clank.
My breath caught.
"You didn’t—" I looked down.
Chains. Again.
"You chained me? Again?" I barked, fury boiling in me as I sat up, the weight of the metal biting into my wrists. "I can’t believe you actually— What the hell, Zaliver?! I’m not some dog you can just lock up!"
He stood at the foot of the bed, infuriatingly smug, hands in his pockets. His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement.
"You’re insane!" I shouted, yanking at the chains.
He shrugged and walked toward the door.
"If you sleep anywhere near me tonight, I swear I’ll kill you!" I hurled a pillow at him with all the strength I had.
It hit him square in the back. He turned slightly and raised a brow at me.
"And by then, you’ll already be marked as mine," he said smoothly, like he hadn’t just declared war.
"Son of a—" I shouted, not caring how childish I sounded.
He opened the door, unfazed. "Never said I wasn’t. Sleep well, sweetheart." And with that, he slipped out and shut the door behind him.
I stared at the door long after it clicked closed, teeth grinding, fury sizzling through me.
He really did it. He actually chained me again, after everything, after the kiss, after the vow, after all of it.
And yet, something about what he said before he left twisted inside me. What kind of mark did he mean?
That night, sleep never came. My mind spiraled through every terrifying, thrilling, and impossible possibility.
And none of them brought me peace.
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