The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 38: Two for the Price of One

OPHELIA
🌶️🌶️

It was the dead of night when the door between our chambers slid open, a slight gust of air the only indication that my privacy had been breached. Fallon was somehow even quieter than the perfectly oiled hinges as he slipped inside, shutting it softly behind him.

A part of me was very aware that it was the first time we'd been alone together since... well.

"Took you long enough," I grumbled, tapping the screen of my phone. That measly light was all I'd have to go by until we made it to the servants' tunnels, which Fallon and I would use to get to the maze.

"We had to wait until the change of the guards," he said. "Are you ready?"

The combination of his low, gravelly voice and that dark, imposing silhouette hovering at the end of my bed made my heart beat twice the usual speed. "Yes," I managed to choke out. In more ways than one.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said automatically, mistaking the cause of my thundering heart. "I'll have your back."

He could have all of me, if he wanted. I decided it was a good thing it was dark; I didn't want him seeing how deeply he'd made me blush.

I threw back the covers and emerged fully dressed, in a rather unladylike ensemble of body tight black. Fallon's breath caught in his throat at the sight, and then his eyes widened at something over my shoulder: the new painting I'd just had installed on the wall above my bed.

An idyllic countryside, with countless sheep speckling the rolling green fields.

"Ophelia van Arsdale, did you steal that?" There was no admonishment in his voice, only joy. He knew what it commemorated. The alcove we'd shared.

"Would I steal?" I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes.

Nate would have said of course, because I stole his heart. Fallon, however, merely snorted. "You would, but you'd call it relocating or something to diffuse the blame."

I chuckled. "Is it really stealing if it hasn't left the castle?"

"There she is. My beautiful thief," Fallon whispered, closing the distance between us. For an instant, he held my face gingerly, as if it was delicate glass that might shatter. Then our mouths were clashing and colliding. My phone tumbled to the floor, muffling the light.

There was something addictive about the taste of him. I kept going back for more with a feverish intensity, every cell of my body crying out to crash headfirst into his exquisite hardness. Even his scent was like a drug, a purely masculine combination of musk and clean cotton and salt scrub. He was wearing sweatpants and a casual tee, better for sneaking around the castle than a creaky set of armour.

"Do we have time?" I asked, fumbling with the drawstring of his pants.

Fallon groaned against my neck. "You could finish me in a second, but I refuse to rush your —"

"A second?" I interjected, already dropping to my knees. The fact that I made him feel like he had to fight for control was incredibly hot. "Challenge accepted."

"Ophelia —"

I paused, looking up. On my knees, my hands by my sides, just waiting. I could feel how much he craved this through our bond — indeed, his lust was fogging my thoughts now — but I was determined to wait for consent.