CHAPTER 312: SWEET TEMPTATION

Jacob~

The grand hall thrummed like a living heart, every beat a swell of music, laughter, and the faint chime of crystal glasses. Warm golden light spilled from chandeliers overhead, spilling over polished marble floors, silk banners, and the proud, eager faces of guests who had come from realms near and far. The air itself was a layered tapestry—roses and champagne mingling with the faint burn of candle wax and the occasional drift of incense from the ceremonial braziers.

I stood at the far edge of the room, away from the main cluster of revelers, letting my gaze sweep over the scene. It was a habit—an instinct I’d honed over centuries. Gods watched the world. Always. Even during celebrations.

Natalie was having the time of her life.

There she stood at the center of it all, her gown a flowing river of pale silver that seemed to catch every stray glimmer of light in the hall. It didn’t just shimmer—it breathed. The lights clung to her like a lover, and the smile she wore—gods, it was the same one she’d had when she was a little girl chasing fireflies through the forest with her mortal parents. Only now there was Zane beside her, his arm firm at her waist, his entire posture screaming mine.

I should have been entirely focused on them. On her happiness. And I was—mostly. My chest swelled with pride so fierce it almost hurt. But then... my eyes caught something else.

Easter.

She was seated a few rows back from the front, not in the direct blaze of attention, but close enough to watch everything. Her wild curls spilled over her shoulders, catching the light in shades of gold and chestnut. Her emerald eyes should have been bright, curious... but right now, they were wide, glassy, and unfocused. She shifted in her seat, trying to adjust the baby in her arms, but the movement was too restless, too sharp—like she was trying to wriggle away from her own skin.

My nostrils flared.

The scent hit me like a sudden change in wind direction—sweet, heated, unmistakable.

Damn it.

Her heat was spiking. Not the dangerous kind, but enough to drive every unmated wolf in a ten-mile radius to distraction. And they could smell it. I saw the way two young males in the row behind her inhaled sharply, eyes darkening as they exchanged quick glances. They wouldn’t dare approach her—not here, not with me present—but that didn’t matter. The fact that they even noticed was enough to make my jaw tighten.

She’d just given birth. She’d just been turned. Her body shouldn’t have to deal with all this now.

And yet... here we were.

My mate was in distress.

I’d wanted her to stay in Paris—far from the chaos waiting for us here. But then Tiger asked if I’d be the one walking Natalie down the aisle, and Easter overheard. The second she put two and two together and realized Natalie was getting married, there was no hiding it from her.

I told her Natalie would understand if we couldn’t make it—that I couldn’t just leave her alone, not while her body was still recovering and the kids needed her. But Easter... she’s stubborn in a way that makes "no" impossible. She insisted on coming, determined that Tiger and I wouldn’t miss our sister’s wedding because of her.

And the wildest part? She didn’t even look like someone who had just given birth. No fragility, no exhaustion—just this quiet, unshakable strength that carried her through every bit of the madness. It was almost unnatural... and entirely awe-inspiring.

I wasn’t going to stand at the edge of the room like a polite observer while she suffered.

I moved.

I didn’t need to shove my way through the crowd—wolves know when to get out of the way. Even the vampires and fae stepped aside without me saying a word. By the time I reached the front where Natalie and Zane were greeting guests, I’d already decided what needed to happen.

"I have to go," I murmured, leaning in close enough that only Natalie could hear me.

Her brows knit. "What—?"

"Easter needs me."

That was all it took. The shift in her expression was instant. Her eyes softened, her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. She gave a small nod, her voice low but firm. "Go. Take care of her."

I didn’t waste another heartbeat.

Bubble and Cassandra were by the refreshment table, arguing over whether the chocolate fountain was an indulgence or a trap for white silk sleeves.

"Hey." My voice cut through their debate.

They both looked up, and Cassandra’s teasing smirk faded when she saw my expression. "What happened?"

"Easter’s heat is getting worse. I need you to take the children."

They exchanged a glance—quick, wordless, and full of understanding. No hesitation.

"Of course," Cassandra said. Bubble gave a curt nod.

With a flick of my wrist, I conjured two bottles of milk into existence, each one glowing faintly before settling into their final, physical form.

"This will sustain the baby until Easter can nurse again," I told them, my tone leaving no room for questions. "It won’t run dry."

Bubble took them without blinking, tucking them into a bag slung over his shoulder. Cassandra straightened her gown, already moving toward Easter.

When I approached her, her gaze found mine immediately. It was like the moment you open a door on a winter’s night and a rush of heat escapes—it hit me that hard. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted as though she’d been holding back a sound. She swayed slightly, her grip on the baby tightening for just a heartbeat before she seemed to... sag toward me, like every muscle in her body had finally decided to stop pretending she was fine.

I was at her side in two strides.

"Easy," I murmured, one arm sliding around her waist. "I’ve got you."

Cassandra stepped in, voice soft. "I’ll take her, Easter."

Easter blinked like she was trying to process the words. "But—"

"You trust me, don’t you?" Cassandra coaxed gently.

There was a moment of stubborn hesitation—Easter’s protective instinct bristling—but she finally let go, her arms loosening as Cassandra lifted the newborn.

Bubble appeared at her other side, reaching for Rose. "Come here, sweetheart. I’ll show you the chocolate fountain."

Rose perked up immediately, her tiny hands grabbing at Bubble’s sleeve. "Can I touch it?"

"We’ll negotiate," he said, carrying her off with practiced ease.

That left just Easter and me.

Her breathing was shallow, ragged. "Jacob..."

I cupped her face, thumbs brushing over skin flushed with heat. "Your babies are safe," I told her. "But right now, you need to focus on yourself."

Her lashes fluttered, a tiny tremor passing through her. "I can’t... it’s—"

"I know." My voice dropped lower, firm but gentle. "I’m not letting you burn through this in the middle of a crowded hall."

One hand found her shoulder. The magic came easily, almost instinctively, answering the pull in my chest. The grand hall blurred, the music and chatter fading into a dull hum. Then—gone.

We were standing in my Paris home, the warm lamplight spilling across deep oak floors and tall windows that framed the golden haze of the city beyond. The glow was just visible in the distance, winking between buildings.

But she wasn’t looking at Paris.

Her gaze was locked on me, her breathing uneven, her eyes dark and desperate. She stumbled a half-step forward, and I caught her easily.

The heat rolling off her was dizzying, her scent so potent now that it curled through my mind like smoke. I couldn’t help a snarl from coming up from deep inside me—not in anger, but in the sharp, possessive way that came when a mate was in need.

"Jacob," she whispered, stepping closer. Her hands came to my chest, fingers grazing over the fabric of my shirt. The heat radiating off her was staggering, the scent of her arousal curling through the air like smoke. For one dangerous moment, I let myself breathe it in.

Her hands slid lower, fumbling at my buttons. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "I need you."

I caught her wrists, my grip firm but not cruel. "Easter, this isn’t you."

She shook her head, eyes bright with tears. "It is me. I can’t control it—I don’t want to control it."

Despite myself, my resolve wavered. She pressed against me, warm, soft, intoxicating. I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," I murmured, my voice rough. Her only answer was a soft, needy moan, her hips swaying against mine.

Her hands broke free, trailing down my chest and slipping beneath my waistband. My breath hitched as her fingers closed around my cock with trembling determination.

"Keep going," she whispered, hot breath fanning my neck. And I did. My hands roamed over her body, every curve, every inch of soft skin under my palms. My fingers found their way between her legs—slick, needy—and she gasped, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in silent pleasure.

But even then, I held back. I wanted her. Gods, I wanted her. But not like this. Not when she was lost in her heat and not fully herself.

"Jacob," she moaned, "please... don’t stop."

I leaned in and kissed her, deep and hungry, but when I pulled away, my voice was firm. "We can’t. Not like this."

She clung to my shirt, desperation trembling in her voice. "Jacob, please." Those emerald eyes—pleading but wild—locked on mine. Her hands tugged at my belt again, but I caught them.

"You’re not thinking clearly, Easter," I said, my voice tight with restraint.

"I need you," she breathed. "I can’t think of anything else."

Her words made something primal in me stir, but I couldn’t let it take over. I brushed away the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Look at me. You’re stronger than this. You don’t have to give in."

She leaned into my touch, trembling. "What if I don’t want to fight it? What if I just want you?"

My chest tightened. I wanted her too—more than anything—but she was vulnerable, and I couldn’t take advantage of that.

I pulled her close, holding her against me. Her nails dug into my back through my shirt, her heart racing against mine. "I’m here," I whispered into her hair. "I’m not going anywhere. But we can’t... not like this."

She looked up, eyes dark with longing. "Then help me. I don’t know how much longer I can take it."

I hesitated, then guided her to the sofa. "Lie down." She obeyed instantly, her gaze clinging to mine.

"Close your eyes," I told her, starting to massage her tense shoulders. Slowly, the tightness in her body began to ease—until she reached for me, her fingers curling into my hair.

"Not like that," she murmured. "Touch me... please."

I hesitated, but her eyes left me no choice. My hands slid down her waist, tracing her hips. She gasped, arching as my fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress, caressing her thighs.

When my fingers brushed between her legs again, she moaned, tilting her head back. The scent of her was almost overwhelming, my control fraying by the second.

But I pulled away, breathing hard. "Easter... we can’t."

Tears welled up again. "Why are you doing this to me? Why won’t you just take me?"

I pulled her into my arms, holding her as she sobbed. "Because I care about you," I murmured. "And I don’t want you to regret this later."

Her voice was a trembling whisper. "What if I won’t regret it? What if this is all I want?"

I had no answer for that. All I knew was that I had to keep resisting—no matter how much it burned.

As she trembled against me, the heat between us simmering, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I’d be able to hold out.