CHAPTER 178: I WANT THIS(+18)

Rymora followed the butler back to Lord Drehk’s villa, her eyes fixed ahead, refusing to acknowledge the looks of discomfort he cast her way. His distaste was unmistakable—thinly veiled behind the stiff set of his jaw and the impatient tapping of his fingers against his side. It was clear: he didn’t like her. Neither did he enjoy being sent to retrieve her.

But Rymora couldn’t be bothered. She moved with measured steps, keeping her chin high and her pace calm, ignoring the weight of his judgment. Her boots clicked softly against the polished floor as they entered the grand villa, passing a few quiet servants who bowed respectfully but avoided meeting her gaze.

The butler said nothing as he led her deeper into the villa. Without so much as glancing back, he opened a large ornate door and gestured her inside, stopping short himself and refusing to step in. That alone made her brows twitch in suspicion.

Rymora stepped through—and froze.

Lord Drehk stood near the window, backlit by the golden dusk that poured in through the open curtains. His skin, tanned and smooth, was slick with sweat, but it was the blood streaked down his bare chest and back that made her breath hitch. His shirt hung loosely from one hand, soaked and crumpled, while his muscular torso rose and fell with every breath.

He was tall—towering, really—and his presence filled the room like smoke. His black pants hung low on his hips, but her gaze didn’t linger there. It was his eyes—those sharp, red eyes—that met hers, and Rymora felt the world still. The air grew heavier, thick with something she couldn’t name.

She had been just about to shut the door, but now she froze, one hand resting on the handle as the door hung half-open behind her.

There was something sincere about his gaze—an emotion she couldn’t pin down. And yet, at the same time, it terrified her. The intensity in his eyes... it made her want to turn back around and bolt from the room. She could feel her legs tremble.

"Close the door," he said, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the air.

She obeyed, shutting the door slowly, the sound of the latch catching echoing louder than it should have.

But she remained by the door, fingers still resting on the handle, unmoving.

Lord Drehk didn’t seem pleased.

He lifted his chin slightly and gestured toward her. "Come forward."

Rymora hesitated for only a second before her legs began to move of their own accord, slow, cautious steps that betrayed the pounding of her heart.

She knew why she was here. She knew.

They had already made out twice—twice that she had allowed his lips on hers, his hands to roam across her body. And the second time...

Heat crept up her neck at the memory. He had finished in her mouth, and to her own shock, she had liked it. More than she’d ever expected to. Her fingers curled into fists as she fought the flutter in her belly. The memory played over and over—his taste, the growl in his voice, the way he had held her head in place...

She stopped just in front of him, barely a foot of space between their bodies. Her eyes flicked down to the glistening blood on his chest and back. Some of it had dried in dark streaks across the ridges of his muscles, but much of it was still fresh. There was no wound—none that she could see. Just blood.

Was it his? Someone else’s?

It should have disturbed her. But all she could feel was the burning in her limbs, the tension in her belly.

’I like it,’ she thought, defiant, whispering to herself internally. ’Moreover, it’s fine as long as I don’t sleep with a vampire!’

Her thoughts drifted to Gregor, her so-called lover. Gregor had never made her feel even a tenth of what she felt when Lord Drehk touched her.

And Gregor? He hadn’t even been faithful to her during the years they’d been apart.

It wasn’t the kind of man he was.

"Closer," Lord Drehk said again. This time, his voice was different—deeper, darker, almost like a growl that wrapped around her mind and tugged at her will.

She didn’t mean to move so fast.

One second she was standing still, and the next—his hands gripped her thighs, and she gasped as he dragged her swiftly into his lap.

"Mhm—!" She gasped

Her protest was cut off by his mouth.

His lips slammed into hers, hot and commanding, stealing the air from her lungs. His hands roamed possessively, squeezing the flesh of her thighs through her gown as if testing her, claiming her. She moaned before she could stop herself, hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he kissed her again—deeper this time, slower, his tongue slipping past her lips with maddening ease.

Rymora’s thoughts scattered like dust.

She wanted to resist, to pull back, to say something, but his fingers slid up the side of her hips, cupping her waist, pressing her tighter against the hard shape beneath her.

Her body responded before her mind could catch up.

Her hips moved instinctively, grinding down against the bulge pressing between her legs. His cock—thick and ready—throbbed beneath the thin fabric of her gown. And still he kissed her, relentlessly, one hand sliding to the back of her head, keeping her locked to him.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as she gasped into his mouth, her hands now clinging to his neck, her breathing ragged.

But even through the haze, Rymora’s mind screamed: No further.

She was a werewolf rut. Her wolf hadn’t manifested, but that didn’t make her any less a werewolf. And sleeping with a vampire?

It was taboo. An abomination.

She pulled back slightly, panting, her forehead resting against his.

"You like this then you should stop holding back!" He growled right into her ears in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.

His voice rough, yet not unkind. His hand brushed her cheek, fingers trailing along her jaw before he kissed her again, softer this time. "I want what you’re willing to give."

That stunned her. Her lips parted in surprise, but he was already pressing kisses down her neck, biting gently—not hard enough to pierce, just enough to make her whimper.

Minutes passed. Long, slow, heated minutes.

Her hands explored his chest, fingertips brushing the dried blood, tracing the ridges of his muscles. He groaned when her fingers dipped down to his abs, when she trailed lower—lower—to the waistband of his pants.

Her heart pounded as she slipped her hand beneath the cloth.

Her fingers closed around his cock—hot, thick, pulsing—and his entire body tensed. His breath hitched as she began to bravely stroke him, slowly at first, teasingly.

Surprised by her own boldness since it wasn’t something she wouldn’t bring herself to do.

"Yes!" He growled in her ears even as he nibbled on them which only made her feel more breathless than before.

"More!," he growled, his hands gripping her hips now, grinding her against him again.

One hand disappeared beneath her gown, pushing aside her underthings with practiced ease. His fingers found her soaked folds, and hips jerking forward.

"You’re trembling," he murmured against her lips. "Do you want me to stop?"

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before vigorously shaking her head. She felt like she might die if he somehow pulled away. The sensation was that intense.

His fingers moved again, slick and steady, rubbing slow circles that made her cry out against his shoulder. Her hips rolled with his movements, her body pressing closer. When he slid one finger into her—just one—she gasped, clenching around him, body betraying everything she thought she wanted to resist.

He was careful, patient, watching her face the entire time.

And when he slid a second finger inside her, curling them just right, her breath caught and her head fell back, lips parted, body shaking.

The pleasure was mind blowing and soon it was all she could think of as she internally screamed that she wanted more. Knowing better than to speak even in such a state.

But almost like he could easily read her mind he lifted the hem of her gown and she let him.

She didn’t stop him.

She should have, but she didn’t.

He took his time undressing her, exposing her skin inch by inch, lips tracing every part he revealed. By the time she was bare before him, straddling his lap, her mind was spinning and her body was already aching with need.

It didn’t help that he pressed his steaming hot rod right against her center where she could feel the heat from his red tip.

Rymora didn’t care anymore.

She should have, but she didn’t.

As long as she didn’t go all the way...

As long as she didn’t let him inside...

It wasn’t taboo. Right?

Right?

But deep down, something in her told her this—whatever this was—was already too far.

Too dangerous.

Too good to turn back from.