Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
14
HARLOW
Somehow I end up outside with almost no memory of fleeing the old mansion except for a few snippets of the walls seeming to close in on me as I ran and Van shouting my name behind me. Luckily, I’m faster than he is, his preternatural speed no match for mine, and I put even more distance between us as I sprint across the lawn. I enter the forest, hoping the trees and his bare feet will help me gain even more distance from him. But within seconds of him crossing the tree line a few yards behind me, I realize I was way off base. While I bulldoze my way through the underbrush, dodging around trees, Van slips gracefully between them without missing a single step and gains on me immediately. It’s almost as if the forest is parting for him, while I swear every fucking bush and branch seems to jump out in front of me to slow me down. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised considering he’s half werewolf, and this is his property.
“Harlow, stop!” Van shouts.
His voice is even closer, and he can’t be more than a few yards behind me now. There’s no way I can get away from him, so I decide to change tactics. The time for flight is over; I’m ready to fight. I whirl, reaching for the knife strapped to my left forearm under my sleeve as I do, and slash a wide arc toward Van’s belly. Unfortunately, he’s faster than I thought, blocking it and relieving me of the weapon in one swift motion before dancing away to brandish it between us.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Harlow,” he says, eying me.
“That makes one of us,” I grit out as I pull another blade from my right sleeve and charge toward him. My knife is a blur as I slash out at him again and again, but he avoids each attack with ease and not once tries to retaliate.
“Stop this,” he says as we disengage to circle each other. “I’m not your enemy.”
“Bullshit, you’re not.” I lunge at him again, almost slicing into his chest before he skitters out of range. “Or you wouldn’t have hid this,” -I motion between us with the blade- “from me until now.”
“I hid nothing from you.” He shakes his head. “I thought you knew and could feel it just like I do, querida.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snarl at him, then attack him again, sending a flurry of slashes his way. This time I tag his forearm before we split apart again, both of us panting with effort as blood briefly trickles down his fingers onto the ground before the shallow wound heals.
“Did you know before we met?” I ask with a hard scowl. “Or did you just get lucky when you forced this one soul bullshit on me?”
Van growls under his breath as he wipes the remaining blood off on his shirt. “I forced nothing on you. That’s not how anam amháin works. I’m as much of a victim to it as you are.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff. “For all I know, this could all be your mother’s doing, setting her little puppet on me for her own gain.”
“Móira may have a lot of power,” he says as he backs farther away from me. “But not even she can work enough magic to force anam amháin on anyone, nor would she attempt to. The fae consider it sacred.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Though that wouldn’t stop her from using it against either of us, which is why I intend to keep it from her and why I couldn’t fuck you last night. The closer we’re bound, the more at risk you are to her getting her claws into you through me.”
Everything he says makes sense, but so did Bravas once upon a time. “Liar!” I shout as the fear overrides my brain, ready to lunge at Van again, but a loud snarling erupts from behind me before I can.
I turn to find two massive wolves stalking toward me with their heads down and their hackles raised, one white and one black, and recognize Ethan’s blue eyes and Mercer’s green. Shit. It looks like I brought a knife to a werewolf fight. I brace for the attack I know I don’t have a prayer of winning, ready to go down swinging.
“Stand down,” Van barks and the two werewolves stop in their tracks, still growling at me with long white fangs bared and eyes sparking with angry fire. “Harlow,” he says, drawing my attention back to him. “Listen to me.” He steps closer as he lowers the knife in his right hand. “You’ve felt my aura. You know me in a way no one ever has before.” He shakes his head. “Do you honestly think I’m lying to you or using you without you sensing it when our auras touched? I can’t hide anything from you even if I try.”
“Why should I believe you?” I ask, despite my wavering resolve. I want to believe him, I do, but I’m still scared that none of what’s between us is real, that I’m being used.
He sighs and tosses the knife to the ground, then lifts his arms out to the sides as he holds my gaze, his eyes resolute. “Look for yourself, Harlow. My soul is an open book. And if you still feel the need to stab me afterwards, then so be it. I won’t stop you.”
The werewolves behind me snarl out their disapproval of Van’s plan.
Van’s eyes flick toward them. “Trust me, boys,” he reassures them.
The snarls turn into a few unhappy grumbles before they settle into silence.
He meets my eyes again, his expression expectant and oddly serene, considering the risk he’s taking with someone as deadly as me. I’m shocked by how much it eases some of my distrust. I nod and step closer to him, still brandishing my knife because I’m not idiot enough to trust that he won’t turn on me. I reach out with my free hand and place my palm in the center of his chest. Almost immediately, his aura rises to meet mine, which was already reaching for him before we even touched. They twine together and it feels so good that I almost sigh in pleasure, but now isn’t the time to give in to the lust already rising inside me. I close my eyes and focus inward, then drop my defenses and let Van’s aura wash over me.
Nothing has changed. I sense the same deep well of pain, anger, and loneliness. His soul is still scarred and sullied by a past I now understand more than I did before. I still sense goodness in him too, but what I don’t find is any kind of malicious intent or duplicity directed at me. If anything, I feel a powerful attraction and affection toward me that’s so intense that it borders on obsession, and I recognize it as an exact mirror of how I feel about him. He’s right. Nothing about this could be faked or manipulated. I’m certain of that now.
“See?” he murmurs, and his relief is almost palpable. “I would never hurt you. I can’t.” He takes my right hand in a gentle grip and easily removes the knife from my now lax fingers. He drops the knife, then twines the fingers of both our hands together as he steps closer until our chests touch, his every word ringing in my head as truth. “And neither can you,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against mine before he kisses me.
Nothing has ever felt as good as when our auras and bodies are touching at the same time. I can only imagine how much better it would be if he were inside me while our auras swirled together.
Van groans as if he heard my thoughts and presses closer, releasing my hands so he can cup my face in his rough hands. He deepens the kiss, his mouth owning mine as I sag against him in an uncharacteristic swoon. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand this man’s effect on me. The kiss seems to go on and on until I feel as if I’ll pass out from the pleasure. He’s trembling against me and his eyes are a brilliant silver when he pulls his lips from mine to catch his breath.
“I want you so much, querida,” he says in a rasping voice. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.” He reaches up to grip my ponytail and yanks my head back to expose my neck. “I want to devour you.” He laves his tongue up the side of my neck. “Consume you.” His teeth nip at my skin. “Own you,” he adds in a low, animalistic growl. “Take you right here, right now. Fuck you from behind like a beast until we’re both sated and spent, and make you mine forever.”
“Yes,” I mewl, careless of whether it’s a good idea. My desire is far stronger than my good sense at this moment.
He lifts his head from my neck and closes his eyes with a low groan, his entire body quaking as he takes several deep breaths. His eyes are still silver when he opens them again, but he’s no longer shaking. “You know why we can’t,” he says in a soft, regretful tone.
“Don’t care.” I sink my fingers into his soft black hair with a pathetic whimper. “I want you inside me in every way.”
“I know, querida,” he says, his face contorted in his effort to fight down the lust burning up his aura and the siren call of mine urging him to give in. “But you know why we can’t. I won’t risk your freedom for it. It’s bad enough I don’t have mine. I don’t want you to lose yours again too.” His eyes soften as a wave of tender affection travels from his aura to mine and washes over me. “I care too much for you to let that happen.”
“But it hurts,” I murmur as my eyes sting, the ache between my legs and in my chest wiping away my reason. I take a shuddering breath. “I need all of you.” I fight his hold on my ponytail and try to kiss him.
“You’re killing me, Harlow,” he replies with a grimace. “Every time gets harder to resist than the last.” His left hand tightens around my hair as the thumb of the other glides across my lips. “Of all the things I’ve been forced to deny myself because of my mother’s bargain, this is the hardest to bear.” He shakes his head. “But I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you.”
And then he does the last thing I want him to do and steps away from me, releasing his hold on me both physically and metaphorically. The loss of his body against me and his aura melding with mine leaves me feeling lost and empty inside, but I know he’s right to pull away from me. Even if it feels wrong. Van is trembling again, his eyes still a vivid silver as they trail up and down my body with a desire so raw it has me taking a step toward him.
He throws his palm out toward me. “Stop,” he says, his voice gruff and his entire body tense. “I only have so much control right now. If you come any closer, I won’t be able to maintain it.”
I stop and nod, too caught up in trying to control the urge to go to him to speak aloud. But I notice that Ethan and Mercer are nowhere to be seen. It’s just as well they took off since we were both on the verge of ripping each other’s clothes off and fucking right in front of them. I was so lost to our mutual desire I don’t think I would have cared.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I need you to go back to the house now, Harlow,” he says in a deceptively even tone that his rigid demeanor contradicts. “I need some time out here to pull myself together.”
I nod again, knowing I need some space to get a grip on myself, too. It feels as if I’m drowning in lust and need for this man, and it won’t take much to push me over the edge of giving in to it.
Van smiles at me, a wan and tired one, then turns and hurries away, leaving me standing there alone, not knowing what to do with myself or the strange amalgam of relief and regret that hits me as he disappears into the trees.