4:35 His Fear
35 His Fear
Ports>
Mara
I woke up to cold sheets and empty space beside me. For a second, I reached out, half-asleep, expecting to find Lucian there. But he was gone.
The silence pulled me fully awake.
I sat up, scanning the room. Then I saw him-sitting in the living room, elbows on his knees, head bowed like the weight of something heavy had settled on him overnight.
Quietly, I slipped out of bed and padded toward him, hoping to catch him lost in thought. But before I got close, he looked up and smiled.
“Mara,” he said softly.
That one word, my name in his voice, made me smile back. “Good morning,” I murmured, then veered toward the bathroom.
I’d planned to pull him in with me, but first-teeth.
Morning breath was a hard no, even if he didn’t seem to care. I did.
I stared at myself in the mirror while brushing. There was a glow to my face-satisfied, bright, like I’d woken up in the right place, with the right person. I touched my neck. Still bare. No mark.
How much longer were we going to leave each other unclaimed? I didn’t want to pressure him, but the truth was, I didn’t mind the idea anymore. I wanted it. I wanted him-all in, no holding back.
I rinsed, mouth open to call him in, when he stepped into the bathroom shirtless, just wearing shorts. The air between us
shifted.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, eyes locked on mine.
Then he kissed me-deep, desperate, like he was trying to etch something into memory. There was hunger in it, yes, but something else too. A tremor of fear.
What was he afraid of?
“I want to make love to you, Mara,” he whispered like a confession.
My heart stuttered. As if he didn’t know my answer. As if my whole body wasn’t already leaning into him. He lifted me with
ease, like I weighed nothing, and I wrapped my legs around him, breath catching in my throat.
He carried me into the shower, pressing me gently but firmly against the tile wall. The water hadn’t even started yet, but everything else was already flooding.
“I can’t wait to claim you,” he said, his voice low in my ear. “I can’t wait to make you mine.”
My pulse thundered. This was real. Fast, yes-but real.
When he slid into me, everything else disappeared. There was only this: the heat, the need, the connection that felt like it had been waiting forever to happen.
“Lucian,” I gasped between moans, clinging to him as he moved inside me.
There was no gentleness in his rhythm-just raw, aching hunger. And still, he studied me. Like he was learning the map of my body, reading every reaction.
SH Pear
Then he found a spot that made me shudder-and he didn’t let up.
He kept hitting it, again and again, until the pleasure cracked through me like lightning.
I cried out, clutching at his sides, digging my nails into his skin. He didn’t pull away-he grunted, welcomed the pain, and then he let go too, his body stiffening before he poured himself into me with a growl that sounded like surrender.
“Don’t leave me, Mara,” he whispered, his breath ragged against my neck.
My chest tightened. Where was that coming from?
“Promise you won’t leave me,” he said again, lips brushing my skin.
My body was still trembling, my mind trying to make sense of the shift in his voice.
I let my legs slide down from around his waist and stood, unsteady, under the running water.
He looked down at me, water cascading through his dark hair, muscles tense like he was bracing for something I couldn’t
see.
“I won’t leave you, Lucian. I can’t, remember?” I said, trying to lighten the weight in his words.
But he just stilled. And when he spoke again, his voice was lower.
“Not because of my father. I want you to stay even if you can leave.”
That hit differently. It wasn’t about power or rules anymore. It was him-afraid I’d walk away the moment I had the choice.
I took a breath and met his eyes.
“I’m in this, Lucian. All the way. I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief passed over his face, and then he pulled me into his arms like he was afraid I’d vanish. He held me so tight I could feel his heart pounding against mine.
b
“Lucian,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Is something wrong?”
He hesitated, then shook his head with a small, hollow smile. Instead of answering, he turned me gently, grabbed the sponge, and lathered it with gel, starting to wash my body with quiet care.
We didn’t speak for a while after that. The steam wrapped around us like a cocoon, but I could feel the weight he carried.
Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to let it out. Not yet.
Later, as we dressed for breakfast, I glanced at the time.
“Isn’t breakfast over by now?” I asked, watching him pull a T-shirt over his damp hair.
He shook his head. “No. Father wants everyone there. He hasn’t even shown up yet.”
I sighed. The idea of going back to that table made my stomach twist. Being with Lucian, just us, felt like the only real place. I didn’t want to face Darian. Or Tiffany. Or the strange games people in this house seemed to enjoy playing.
Now that I carried Lucian’s scent, things would be different. They’d all know. Darian especially. He wouldn’t take it well- but maybe that was the point.
Let him see. Let him finally give up.
Though something told me he wouldn’t.
213
