CHAPTER 405: MARKING (II)

Evaline:

Draven’s body pressed into mine, his warmth seeping through the thin layer of fabric between us. Every heartbeat of his echoed against my chest - hard, steady, hungry. My breath hitched as he cupped my face, his thumb tracing the corner of my mouth like he needed to memorize every curve again.

It had been months since we last touched like this. Months since his hands had held me with both reverence and fire. Yet now, it felt as if no time had passed at all - only a stretch of endless waiting that had finally come to an end.

"Eva..." My name came out rough, almost reverent, as though he had been holding it back for too long.

I could barely answer. My throat was dry, my heart thundering so hard it made my chest ache. "Draven..."

His gaze dropped - from my eyes, to my mouth, and then lower still. I saw the storm behind his irises, the way it darkened when he looked at me, really looked. There was hunger there, yes, but also something deeper... longing, restraint, and a faint, fragile trace of worry.

He brushed a strand of hair away from my neck, his fingers trembling just slightly. "Are you ready though?" He asked, his breath warm against my skin.

"I am," I breathed the response, "both mentally and physically."

His chest rose sharply, his control fracturing. Then, his lips found mine again, slower this time - tender, deliberate, like he wanted to savor every breath we shared. This kiss wasn’t wild, it was desperate in another way, the kind of desperation that comes from being starved of touch, of closeness, of belonging.

I melted into him, my hands gripping the back of his shirt as if letting go would make him vanish. The warmth of his body surrounded me, grounding me in the present moment, in the familiar scent that clung to his skin, in the faint tremor of his breath against my cheek.

His hands moved, exploring the familiar lines of my waist, pausing briefly when he reached the curve of my side. His touch softened instantly. "You have gained weight," he said quietly, "That’s a good sign."

I smiled faintly, brushing my lips against his jaw. "That’s what happens when you don’t let me do anything."

He huffed a short laugh, though his thumb kept tracing gentle circles against my hip. "You still manage to throw sarcasm even now."

"It’s a gift," I murmured, and his laughter deepened - low, genuine, vibrating through his chest where it pressed against mine.

But the laughter didn’t last long. His expression shifted again - from amusement to something darker, heavier. His gaze swept over me with quiet awe, as though he was rediscovering every inch of me.

When his hand brushed the side of my chest, I tensed slightly - not in discomfort, but in the shock of how different everything felt now.

He noticed immediately. His thumb froze mid-motion. "Eva..."

"I’m fine," I said softly. "It’s just... different."

He hesitated, then leaned closer, pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder. "You are beautiful," he whispered against my skin. "More than before. Stronger. Real."

His words stole the air from my lungs. "You always know what to say."

"I mean it." His voice was rough, sincere. "Every part of you... everything that’s changed... it’s still you. My Eva. My mate."

My heart clenched at the way he said my. I rested my hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath. "Then show me, Draven," I whispered. "Show me that I belong to you."

The moment those words left my mouth, he gave up on taking things slow.

He gathered me into his arms, lifting me effortlessly before setting me down onto the bed. His eyes never left mine as he hovered above, his breath uneven, his expression torn between desire and something heartbreakingly tender.

"Are you sure?" he asked once more, his voice barely above a whisper.

Instead of answering, I reached up and brushed my fingers along his lips. "You already know."

He exhaled shakily, then leaned down and captured my lips in a deep, consuming kiss that left me breathless and almost dizzy.

My fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even though my lungs were protesting.

He pulled away finally... only for his mouth to find its way to my throat. He was merciless as he kissed, licked, nipped at my skin, leaving his temporary marks behind. But while I welcomed these temporary ones, what I craved was the permanent mark that would bind me to him for eternity.

He trailed a path down my collarbone and stopped at my dress’ neckline. My breath hitched. I waited, for him to continue, to peel the fabric away finally. But instead of doing that, he pulled back and pressed a kiss on my forehead.

I was expecting him to stop and pull away. But his lips continued to trace a slow path from my temple to my jaw. The kisses were softer now... as though he wanted to worship, not consume. His hands explored with patience, his touch speaking the words he couldn’t say aloud.

Every movement carried emotion - longing, love, the ache of all the months we had spent apart despite being under the same roof.

When his lips reached the hollow of my throat, I arched slightly, my breath catching. The sound that escaped me made him pause - not out of hesitation, but reverence. His gaze lifted to mine, and in that gaze I saw everything - hunger, care, love, and something deeper... something only we could understand.

The world outside fell away - no noise, no thoughts, only the rhythm of our breaths and the silent language between us.

His hand slid to mine, intertwining our fingers. That single act, the gentle squeeze of his hand, made my heart ache. He wasn’t just touching me out of desire... he was reminding me that we still existed beyond the chaos, beyond the pain of change and distance.

"I missed this," he said softly, almost to himself. "Missed you."

I smiled faintly. "Then don’t stop."

And he didn’t.