Avenging Luna
Chapter 164: Consent

Chapter 164: Consent

Chase’s POV:

The night had stretched long, and Leila’s laughter still lingered in the air as we stood together in the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow from the sconces flickered against her skin, her presence calming yet maddening all at once.

She was telling me about something Ash had said earlier—a story meant to distract me, to lighten my spirits. But I could barely focus on her words. The sound of her heartbeat was too loud, her scent too intoxicating. My fangs ached, the sharp sting impossible to ignore.

I clenched my fists at my sides, willing the hunger to subside.

It didn’t.

Instead, it surged like a tidal wave, a primal need roaring to the surface. My mouth watered, and I could feel my control slipping. I took a step back, desperate for distance, my breathing shallow.

"Chase?" Leila’s voice was soft, concerned. She stepped closer, her brows knitting together. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," I lied, my voice tight. The strain in my tone must have been obvious because she didn’t look convinced.

I couldn’t stay here. Not like this.

"Goodnight, Leila," I said quickly, turning away before she could see the telltale signs of my loss of control—the red in my eyes, the sharp gleam of my fangs. I needed to leave before I did something I couldn’t take back.

But her footsteps followed me.

"Chase, wait!" she called after me, worry lacing her words. "What’s wrong? Are you sick?"

"No!" I turned around sharply, startling her. My back pressed against the cool stone wall as I fought the overwhelming urge to take what my body screamed for. "Go back, Leila. Please."

Her eyes widened as she saw me. My fangs were fully visible now, my eyes glowing a dangerous red. I could see the fear flicker across her face, but to my shock, she didn’t move away.

Instead, she took a step closer.

"Leila," I growled, my voice low and guttural. "Don’t. I’m not safe right now."

But she ignored me.

Her steps were cautious but deliberate, her gaze never leaving mine. When she was close enough to touch, she reached out, her fingers brushing against my cheek. The warmth of her skin sent a jolt through me, and I clenched my jaw, fighting against the hunger.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly, her thumb tracing the sharp edge of my cheekbone.

I couldn’t lie to her. Not now. I nodded, my voice a strained whisper. "Yes. But I can handle it. You need to leave. Now, Leila. Before I lose control."

"I’m not leaving," she said firmly, her gaze steady.

Damn her stubbornness.

I opened my mouth to argue, to beg her to go, but before I could speak, she closed the distance between us and kissed me.

For a moment, my mind went blank.

Her lips were soft, warm, and utterly consuming. Every shred of control I’d been clinging to snapped like a fragile thread. A low growl escaped me as I kissed her back, careful to angle my mouth so my fangs wouldn’t nick her delicate skin.

I reached for her, my hands finding her thighs as I lifted her easily. She gasped but didn’t pull away, her arms wrapping around my neck and her legs instinctively locking around my waist.

We were still in the hallway, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

Somehow, I managed to stumble to my chamber, never breaking the kiss. The door slammed shut behind us as I pressed her back against it, my hands braced on either side of her to keep myself steady.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my breathing ragged, my forehead resting against hers.

"This is where you tell me to stop," I said, my voice hoarse. "This is where you run."

Her answer was clear.

She tangled her fingers in my hair and pulled me back to her, her lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was as reckless as it was exhilarating.

I groaned against her mouth. "Gods, Leila..."

If this was a mistake, it was one we were both willing to make.

Her lips were fire against mine, a blazing warmth that melted every ounce of control I thought I had. I shifted, my body pressing her more firmly against the door, her legs locked around me, her soft curves molding perfectly to mine.

But it wasn’t enough.

I needed more—needed her in a way that was primal, unrelenting, and all-consuming. My hands roamed, one settling on her hip while the other slid up her back, holding her close. Our kisses grew deeper, hungrier, until I felt her breath hitch against my lips.

My mouth moved to her jaw, then down to her neck, where her pulse thudded beneath my lips, a rhythm that called to me like a siren’s song.

I hesitated, the war between hunger and fear raging inside me. "Leila," I murmured against her skin, my voice rough. "I—"

She tilted her head, giving me better access, her fingers threading through my hair. "Chase," she whispered, her voice a soft plea.

"Do you trust me?" I asked, my lips brushing against the delicate skin of her throat.

"Yes."

Her answer was immediate, unwavering. It was my undoing.

"May I... drink from you?" I rasped, the words tumbling out in a rush.

She stiffened for a fraction of a second, and I braced myself for rejection, for fear. But then she nodded, her voice a whisper. "Yes."

Relief and desire surged through me, a tidal wave of emotions I couldn’t contain. I pressed a reverent kiss to her neck, inhaling her scent one last time before I allowed my fangs to extend fully.

"This might hurt," I warned, my voice barely audible.

"It’s okay," she replied, her hand cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing against my skin in a gesture so tender it nearly broke me.

I didn’t wait any longer. My fangs sank into her neck, piercing her soft skin with practiced precision. Her blood spilled onto my tongue, rich and intoxicating, a taste so exquisite it left me breathless.

The effect was instant.

A surge of power flooded my veins, hot and electric, like liquid sunlight igniting every nerve in my body. Her blood was unlike anything I’d ever imagined—sweet, heady, and impossibly perfect. It was as if her essence was made for me, and as I drank, I felt a connection so deep it stole my breath.

So this was what it felt like to be one with a mate.

I groaned against her skin, my body pressing closer to hers as her blood filled me with life and strength, every drop a symphony of pleasure and need. If Leila were a vampire, she would have felt this too—would have bitten me in return, our bond sealed in the most intimate way possible.

But even as I drank, I felt her reaction.

Her breathing quickened, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I could feel her hips moving, grinding against me in slow, tantalizing circles that drove me wild. My blood—laced with the aphrodites—was taking effect, her body responding to me in ways neither of us could control.

"Leila," I groaned, pulling back just enough to close the puncture wounds with a swipe of my tongue. Her taste lingered, addictive and maddening, but I forced myself to stop before I took too much.

Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with desire, her cheeks flushed. "Does it always... feel like this?" she whispered, her voice breathless.

I pressed my forehead to hers, my hands gripping her hips to still her movements before I completely lost myself. "I’ve never felt anything like this," I admitted, my voice thick with truth. "You’re—Gods, Leila, you’re everything."

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she kissed me again, her lips soft but insistent, her hands tangling in my hair as she pulled me closer. My restraint shattered, my body moving on instinct as I carried her to the bed, desperate to lose myself in her completely.

Every touch, every kiss, every whisper was a promise, a connection that bound us together in a way words could never capture.

This was more than desire.

This was destiny.

The world outside the room ceased to exist as I carried her to the bed, our lips never parting. Every step sent sparks of electricity between us, the heat of her body pressed against mine igniting a fire that refused to be contained.

I laid her down gently, my weight hovering over hers as I braced myself on my forearms. The sight of her beneath me—flushed cheeks, slightly swollen lips, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath—was enough to bring me to my knees.

"Leila," I murmured, my voice thick with a reverence I couldn’t hide. "You’re so beautiful."

Her lips curved into a shy smile, her hands trailing down my arms, her touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "You’re not so bad yourself," she teased softly, but her voice carried a tremor that matched the anticipation crackling between us.

I dipped my head, kissing her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. My lips moved to her jaw, then down to her neck, the puncture wounds I’d left only moments ago already healed. I kissed the spot tenderly, my tongue darting out to soothe the skin.

Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, her body arching into mine. The contact was almost too much, and yet not nearly enough. My hands roamed, mapping every curve, every inch of her that I could reach.

"Chase..." she whispered, my name on her lips like a prayer, a plea, a command.

I couldn’t stop the low growl that rumbled in my chest, the sound primal and raw. Her eyes widened slightly, but there was no fear, only trust—a trust so profound it made my heart ache.

I trailed kisses lower, my lips skimming over the curve of her collarbone, my hands sliding beneath the hem of her shirt. I paused, glancing up at her, silently asking for permission.

She nodded, her breath hitching, her eyes dark with unspoken need.

I tugged the fabric up slowly, savoring the way her skin was revealed inch by inch, her beauty leaving me utterly mesmerized. I leaned down, pressing kisses along her stomach, her ribs, the hollow of her throat. Each touch was a vow, a silent promise that I would cherish her, protect her, adore her.

Her fingers found my shirt, fumbling with the buttons in her eagerness. I helped her, shrugging it off and tossing it aside, the feel of her hands against my bare skin sending a shiver down my spine.

Our breaths mingled as I leaned over her once more, my lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was both gentle and urgent.

"This..." I whispered, my voice strained. "This is where you can tell me to stop."

Her hands cupped my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as she gazed up at me. "I don’t want you to stop."