Hekate’s Bride

My brow knits together as a featherlight touch grazes my cheek, trailing down my neck with an intimate caress that startles me awake. Glacial green eyes lock onto mine, and instinctively, I recoil, scrambling backward until my back collides with the headboard. Still, I don’t halt until I lose my balance and topple to the ground.

A soft chuckle resonates in the air, and my heart lurches at its sound. “You summoned me, princess, yet your reception lacks enthusiasm.”

Seizing my pillow from the floor, I hurl it across the room with a surge of preternatural strength. “What the fuck are you doing in here, creep?!”

Hekate catches the pillow effortlessly, allowing it to slip from his grasp. “Again, you called.”

Fuming and cursing, I rise from the ground, massaging my bruised knee. “I did not, and I do not appreciate your intrusion.”

With hands folded behind his back, he strides around my queen-sized bed, pausing only to perch at its edge, propping his head on his fist. Mischief sparkles in his green eyes, and a breathtaking smile graces his lips as he remarks, “Intrusion? What intrusion?”

I am stunned by his beauty, untamed and wild. It possesses a rugged refinement, meticulously honed to perfection. It’s unimaginable that I share a bond with this stunning male.

“What? You no longer feel the need to hide your face from me?” I remark irritably, noting the absence of shadows shrouding him.

He shrugs, standing from my bed and walking about like he owns my space. “I do not hide. It is he who prefers to remain hidden.” He pauses before my closet, tilting his head slightly. “Ah, yes. We shared a kiss in this very spot that night.”

A shiver courses through me, and my cheeks burn at the memory. I don’t know what to do with myself now that he’s here. I know it’s another one of those dreams, but I had thought I would speak to him the next time he came by. Ask him questions that plagued my mind.

Instead, I find myself blushing, consumed by thoughts of his fingers delving into my warmth as he pressed me against the closet door.

The air in the room changes, igniting into flames as the scent of arousal permeates the space. My own.

Hell. What is happening to me?

Thankfully, Hekate says nothing, seemingly more intrigued by my closet. Abruptly, he pries it open, and I gasp when he retrieves something flimsy and white, examining it curiously, tugging at the lacy fabric, and…

In a matter of seconds, I am across the room, slamming the door shut and wrenching my thong from his grasp. “Do not touch that!”

He gazes from me to the delicate strip of white lace blankly, and laughter slips from my lips. “You don’t know what it is?”

“He rarely lets me out,” he replies, his expression devoid of comprehension. “You care for the lacy ribbon very much?” His hand extends, twining my hair around his fingers. “It is a strange design but your hair would look pretty in it.”

I should burst out laughing, but I am taken aback by his unfamiliarity with modern undergarments. It sparks a flicker of concern within me. Does Rune never embrace his lycan? Does he keep his wolf perpetually caged, trapped within himself? My own wolf, Sloan, knows me intimately-my preferences, my wanderings through favored places. In wolf form, she explores those routes, and on occasion, she has even compelled me to indulge in a famous cheeseburger from the human realm, simply to satisfy her cravings.

Sloan and I are intertwined, inseparable facets of the same existence. Though not necessarily opposites, we possess distinct perspectives and divergent trains of thought at times.

The consequences of suppressing and caging one’s wolf are severe, and the impact on lycans must be tremendous, I can only imagine.

Suddenly, Rune’s behavioral patterns start to make sense to me. The hidden turmoil behind his calm demeanor, the loss of control he experienced that day in the hall, the undercurrents of frustration, anxiety, and detachment… it all falls into place.

Hate curdles within me, hate for him, and yet… a disconcerting understanding begins to take root. It becomes increasingly difficult to harbor animosity towards him. It’s harder to keep my heart iced and full of hate when I think about him.

And then there’s Hekate…© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I can’t fathom the hardship of being trapped in both the Void and Rune’s body now.

My hand moves instinctively, rising before I can even deliberate, and when my fingertips brush against his, they are tender. My voice, soft and gentle, resonates, “I acknowledge your… compliment.”

Stupidest thing one could say in return to a man who literally just said my panties would look nice in my hair, but I’m afraid my brain has lost the battle against my heart for the moment.

His eyes flicks to my fingers around his and he blinks, as if unused to being touched.

Flustered and embarrassed by my inability to control myself, I drop my hand and retreat several steps away, hugging my chest and rubbing my cool arms. “I didn’t call for you, but I do have something to say.”

“Oh?” Hekate’s voice holds a hint of curiosity.

Biting the inside of my cheek nervously, I gather my resolve and tell him, “I do not want you visiting me anymore.”

The shadows surrounding my room deepen, and a chilling wind gusts in, threatening to extinguish the torches. “No,” he responds firmly.

I start, baffled by his refusal. “No?”

“We are bound. It is foolhardy to stay away-”

“Bound?” I echo, my voice resonating through the space. Taking a hesitant step forward, I continue, “I never asked for this. I never asked to be bound to you. My eyes, my hair…” I grasp at the strands that continue to lengthen and grow richer with each passing day. “My body,” I say, my voice rising as I loosen the robe that covers my thin nightdress. “I am changing!”

Hekate’s eyes flicker over me, their intensity increasing as they linger on my fuller chest. “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

“I don’t care!” I yell, my frustration and anger pouring out. “I don’t want this! This transformation. I had a life, and you are ruining it. You had no right to choose me. To mark me! Not without my consent, but you did it anyway. Why did you select me for your twisted game of revenge?!”

The fire in his eyes die out, and he regards me coolly as I vent my grievances. When my words finally come to a halt, he responds, “I do not play games, princess.” He pauses, looking forlon. “You need not worry. You are mine. I would never harm you. The curse will not take you.”

“Can you not hear a single word I am saying?!” I retort, frustration seeping into my voice. “I don’t want to be yours!”

His brows arch in amusement. “You lie. Your thoughts are consumed by me, all day long. I am all you think about. Being mine is all you desire.”

A surge of frustration mixes with a strange undercurrent of desire, and I grit my teeth. “If you possessed even an inkling of my desires, you would realize the extent to which I want you gone from my room–and my life.”

Hekate laughs and his velvety voice makes heat creep under my skin as he says, “More lies, flowing effortlessly from your enchanting lips, my dear mate.”

“I am not your mate. I never will be. I will do as my father bids and take a mate, if that is what I must do to severe this–”

A whimper escapes my lips as his fingers curl tightly around my forearm, forcefully drawing me closer until our breaths mingle. His presence is overwhelming, and his demand hangs in the air, a breath away from my skin. “Repeat those words once more,” he commands, his breath caressing my trembling flesh.

Struggling fruitlessly to free my arm from his firm grip, I whisper, my voice barely audible, “This is all because of you. My mother discovered your mark on me, and now there’s a selection underway. I am to choose a mate.”

A pale brow arches in inquiry once more. “And who was your choice?”

I swallow hard, my throat constricting with the weight of my admission. “No one. I found none of them to my liking.”

He nods, releasing my sore arm. “Good. In that case, there shall be no bloodshed.”

“What?”

He waves dismissively, like he didn’t just threaten to kill someone and turns away from me, hands once again folded behind his back. “When the time is right, princess, I will come for you. You must wait for me.”

“Right. Shall I be your second bride after Ginevra?” I retort, but he suddenly vanishes into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in the charged atmosphere of my room.

My chest constricts, and I clutch it tightly, struggling to catch my breath. Why does it fucking ache so much?