Chapter 45: Trapped
Vivian Grey’s POV
By the time the clock read 8:50 PM, I was pacing like a trapped animal, my bare feet whispering across the polished floors. Every few steps I glanced toward the door, then back again, as if staring hard enough would make time move faster or him arrive sooner. My stomach twisted with nerves, like a pack of wolves were scrapping it out in there. I brought my fingers to my mouth, hovering near my lips. I didn’t bite my nails, hated the sensation, but tonight I was sorely tempted.
What was Zaliver going to do when he walked in? Was he really going to mark me? And what did that mean, exactly? The mating mark was supposed to be sacred. A bite at the neck, usually, the claiming kind that made the bond permanent and left a visible sign on your skin forever. But Zaliver wasn’t a typical Alpha. Nothing about him was typical. So I had no idea what to expect, and the not-knowing was worse than anything I could have imagined.
I’d spent the afternoon trying to prepare myself and failing completely. I’d read three Chapters of something on the laptop, absorbed none of it, and closed it again. I’d done my hair twice. I’d sat down, stood up, sat down. My wolf had watched all of this with barely concealed amusement, which I found deeply unhelpful.
My wolf paced right alongside me inside my mind now, equally restless. She wasn’t scared. She was excited, which somehow made my anxiety worse.
The moment the clock struck 8:59, I froze mid-step. My eyes locked on the door.
And then, right on the dot as the second hand kissed the nine, it swung open.
Zaliver stood there, tall and commanding, his presence like a shadow stretching across the room. His electric-blue eyes found mine instantly, and I held my breath. We didn’t speak. We didn’t move. We just stood there, watching each other like the rest of the world had melted away.
He was dressed in his usual head-to-toe black, sleek and sharp. His dark hair was pushed back from his face like he’d run his fingers through it in frustration, or maybe anticipation. Even cloaked in his usual cool darkness, he looked devastatingly beautiful, that magnetic aura of his swirling like storm clouds. I could feel it, his power, his restraint, and yet I wasn’t scared of him. Not even a little.
His gaze swept over me slowly, and it took everything in me to stay still and not fidget under the intensity. He moved closer, step by step, like he was approaching something dangerous or sacred. I’d probably have bitten him earlier if he got too close, but now? Now I couldn’t summon that fire. All I could feel was this knot of longing tangled up inside me.
He stopped just in front of me. His towering frame cast a shadow over mine as I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. A million thoughts swirled in my chest, but all that came out was a soft, shaky smile. Something in his eyes shifted, softened, and he smiled back. Just a little. But it felt intimate. Like we shared a secret the world wouldn’t understand.
I stood there for a moment, looking up at him, and made a decision. Not impulsively, not because the bond pulled me. Because I wanted to. Because somewhere in the middle of everything impossible that had happened this week, I had missed him. Genuinely missed him, the way you miss something that has somehow quietly become necessary.
I reached out and wrapped my arms around his waist.
His body stiffened, his eyes widening slightly. For a split second, I thought he’d pull away. But he didn’t. So I kept going.
I slid my hands up his sides slowly, tracing the lines of his muscles through his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the fabric. I looked into his eyes as I tugged him gently closer. He moved toward me, hesitant and rigid, like he didn’t trust himself not to break something, maybe me. His breathing grew shallow, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. I rested my head against his chest, letting the sound of his steady heartbeat ground me.
It took him a moment, but eventually, hesitantly, he lifted his arms and pulled me into him, holding me tight. I smiled against his shirt.
"I missed you," I murmured, my voice muffled by the fabric and the emotions rising in my throat.
A sound came from him, deep and strange, something between a sigh and a growl. It made my heart flutter.
"I thought you’d be furious," he said, his voice rough and low.
"Oh, I am," I admitted, grinning.
"But?"
I shrugged into his chest. "Eh."
"Eh?" He leaned back just enough to look down at me, his brows raised in amused disbelief. But there was something else in his eyes too, something deeper. Something that wrapped around my heart and squeezed.
"I missed you," I said again, like it explained everything. "Now, will you please get these off me? I’ve been chained up all day, and I refuse to be any longer." I raised my hand, rattling the cuffs around my wrists pointedly.
His lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made my knees weak. There was a gleam in his eye that sent heat rushing through me.
"Ah, yes, the chains." His voice dipped lower, richer. "You want them gone, do you?"
I nodded quickly, maybe too eagerly.
The air shifted.
His expression turned darker, not frightening, but hungry. Controlled, carnal, and dangerous in a way that made every part of me sit up and pay attention.
"The chains can go," he murmured, raising one hand. His fingers brushed gently along my jaw, trailing to my hair. He tucked it behind my ear, slowly, letting the strands fall away and expose my left shoulder to the open air and to his gaze.
That look he gave me wasn’t just about lust. It was about claim.
And I felt it burn into my skin like a brand.
I didn’t pull away.
I tilted my head, just slightly, and gave him room.
Whatever came next, I was ready for it. Or as ready as I was ever going to be.
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