“Zayn, this isn’t a joke.If they find you here…”
“Shh,” he soothes, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “They won’t. You worry too much.”
I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch despite myself. His confidence is infectious, but it’s a fleeting balm. The stakes are too high, the risks too great. Zayn is so close, his scent enveloping me and his hands on my skin.
“Zayn…” I begin, the rest of my warning dies on my lips as he leans in, capturing my mouth once more with an urgency that leaves no room for words. Every part of me screams to push him away, to protect us both from the fallout that would surely follow— however the sire bond, the magnetic pull between us, makes resistance near impossible.
As his hands roam over my body, every touch ignites a fire that threatens to consume me. It’s reckless, it’s dangerous—it’s everything I’ve been warned to avoid. And yet, I don’t want him to stop.
I grab his wrists, trying to pull him away from me. The heat of his skin seeps into mine, urging me to forget everything except the here and now. “Zayn, seriously. If they catch you in here…”
He just laughs, a deep sound that only deepens my desperation, worried my father’s enforcers will hear him. It’s a laugh that knows no fear, no consequence. “What’s your guardgonna do, come submit to me?” His eyes dance with mischief, and I picture the scene.
“Stop joking.” I glance nervously at the door even though I know it’s solidly shut. “No, they catch you, they’ll tell my father.” My voice trembles.
His hands, which moments ago had been mapping the terrain of my body, pause against my ribs. His eyes lock onto mine, the golden flecks in them igniting with something fierce, something defiant. “And I told you, I don’t fear your father, so you shouldn’t, either,” he replies confidently, his thumb tracing the curve of my hip bone.
The words that spill from my lips next come out laced with a cold dread. “He threatened to give my pack to Lydia,” I confess, the fear evident in my voice. The very thought coils in my stomach, making me feel queasy, knowing she would have her filthy paws on my mother’s pack.
“That’s my mother’s pack!” I remind him. Zayn’s expression hardens, the playfulness that danced in his eyes a moment ago now gone. He pulls me closer, his breath hot against my ear. “I know, Cleo. Let him give it to her if he so chooses. You’ll get it back; you only have to challenge her for it.” He lets me go, falling onto my bed.
“By challenging her?”
“See, you’re stressing over nothing. Now, get here,” he commands softly, patting the bed beside him.
“Why are you even here?”
“I missed you. Isn’t it obvious?” he says, pulling me down to straddle his lap.
“It hasn’t even been half a day,” I deadpan.
“And even that is too long,” he chuckles, his lips finding my neck.
Zayn’s lips trace a fiery path down my neck, igniting a trail of desire that pools deep within me. His hands are everywhere,deft and commanding, coaxing moans from my lips which he does his best to muffle. The world outside my bedroom fades away— into the electric touch of the man I’m tangled with on my crappy rumpled dorm sheets. Zayn shoves me back on the bed, his eyes flickering as he moves over the top of me.
Swift and harsh reality crashes back to both of us when my phone blares its insistent ring, slicing through the haze. Zayn pauses and my head turns to the side where my bag is. I push on his chest, and he growls at the interruption, reluctantly he allows me to get up and grab it.
Climbing out of my bed I snatch it from where it rests on my bag and books. My heart sinks; I know without looking who it will be. With a heavy sigh, I glance at Zayn and he takes that opportunity to pull me back onto his lap so I am straddling him.
“Don’t answer it,” he groans, his lips moving toward mine. I press my finger gently against Zayn’s full lips, pausing him mid-kiss. He glances up, eyebrows knit in annoyance at the interruption.
“Hold on,” I whisper, holding up the vibrating device between us so he can see Dad’s name flashing on the screen.
“Your timing sucks, Joseph,” Zayn mutters under his breath and I glare at him telling him to shut up before pressing answer. “Hey, Dad?”
“Where are you?” he doesn’t even give me a chance to answer. “You need to be at pack training. Now,” his voice is curt, brooking no argument.
“Seriously? Now?” I pull away from Zayn, but he grabs my hips holding me in place. “Can’t it wait?”
“No, Cleo, it can’t. I am sick of this tiff between you and Lydia,” Dad growls through the phone, his Alpha tone seeping through the line.
“Maybe if Lydia hadn’t called Mom a whore—” I start, my voice rising with anger.
He hasn’t even heard my side of the story and is making assumptions already.
“Enough!” he snaps. “I don’t know who to believe anymore, Cleo. You’ve been caught lying too many times.”
“Are you serious?” I feel a hollow pit form in my stomach. “Dad, Lydia lies like it’s as natural as breathing.”
