Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 75 - 77

Chapter 75: Chapter 77

Botan sits up on his elbows, his eyes savouring every bare inch of me as a wolfish grin spreads across his face. I come closer and his torso erects eagerly before I raise a reproachful finger as my eyes sweep over to the chiffon-style long scarf draped over the chair behind my vanity table. I detour to pluck it off as I twist it up like a long, link of rope.

"And what are you going to do with that?"

"Making things even," I say with a suggestive smile.

I motion him back, further up the bed until I can pin his hands over his head and use the thick scarf to bind him to the headboard. "You know, when I did my overseas outreach programs, I worked alongside volunteer doctors. There were times when we were sent to war-torn countries and the doctors had to operate on wounded soldiers—sometimes without any anesthesia. So I got really good at tying down men twice my size."

He flexes, muscles rippling through his body as he tests the restraints.

A languid flick of his gaze as he stares up into my eyes with heated curiosity. "You think this will keep me down?"

I pull hard on the knot, giving it an experimental yank that widens Botan’ eyes. I smile back at him as a provocative finger trails over his body, just achingly out of reach.

"Let’s test it."

He strains slightly as I relish in the unbound need in his eyes from just a flicker of my touch. And so I test how far I can go. I crawl over before I dip down to drop a sweet kiss against his neck, idling down to his collarbone. He sucks in a shearing breath as if my lips are a blaze that fires down his chest, and I only pause to look up at him through my lashes and he bucks against me, chasing my touch, desperate for more as I feed off that want, fueling my own desires as I nip at his sharp hip bone. I take my time to lavish a line of kisses along his pelvis, chords of muscles tensing, a growl rumbles in his chest. I flash a smile as I rise, my skirt pooling around us before I take it off, casting it on the floor before I straddle his groin. His eyes spark with surprise and excitement—and I can feel it—the growing bulge. And I greet it with a grin, rocking my hips against him, earning a curse beneath his breath.

"Fuck." A heavy gasp.

He strains harder against the makeshift restraint pinning hin to the headboard, his heady eyes clouded by one one thing, eyes storming with a want like only I can satiate it. Infused with an exotic confidence as I continue to tease him, rewarding me with heightened moans that are met with my delighted giggle. But just when I think I’m not done—Botan strains—a thundering bang of the headboard against the wall before he breaks free like he was held back by paper. He casts the restraint aside and flips me on my back with one silky move. His wolfish grin sharpens with him between my legs and lowers until his lips are against my inner thigh and a thrill arches me like a bowstring being pull. He removes my underwear with an almost artistic flourish before I bite back a moan as his lips find purchase inside me as he continues to work me into a frenzy. I struggle against a scream that softens into whimpers that drive Botan feral—he groans in response, deep reverberations sending a shockwave through my body. He releases, his head lifting as a surge of fire floods through me, catching him watch me wolfishly.

"But can Landen’s tongue do that?"

"You’re so petty," I point out breathlessly.

"No, I just don’t like sharing," he says darkly.

"Then make me yours," I say in full surrender, "all of me."

"I don’t want to hurt you."

I lift my hand to cup his cheek, my thumb grazing his cheekbone as his eyes flutter close to bask in the feeling of his flesh against mine.

"You could never," I whisper back.

His face closes the distance, a fraction of space dissolving between us until his lips capture mine. It’s as though the world ignites, flames licking at the edges of my being. His kiss is a storm, both tender and consuming as we strip away every last layer that keeps us apart until our bare bodies are entwined in the throes of passion, every doubt and dread about him falls away into insignificance as euphoria blooms with every languid move of his lips with a passion that etches itself onto my flesh.

It’s difficult for him. He tries—he fights with himself, talking me through every motion in fragmented and breathy sentences, trying to be gentle himself as I raise my hips to meet him at every erotic surge, every move, syncing in heavenly unison as tendrils of desire coil inside me with stars bursting behind my eyes, overwhelming yet unquenchable as my nails dig into his back. With a final thrust, a wave of pleasure crashes over me, inundating me with pure, eye-blurring bliss as Botan follows me over the edge. As my release spreads through, flowing through my veins and I can’t hold back the cry of half-laughing happiness.

When he’s on his back, he draws me on top of him so I’m draped over the musculature of his body, melding mine with his, tangled between his limbs as his fingers trace my skin like a map man skimming over every contour of all he has claimed, his touch unhurried and reverent, seeking not to memorize what his flesh won’t forget but to savour the story still simmering under the surface.

"I don’t want this to end," I say, closing my eyes to hone in on the hard-beat tempo of his heart.

"It doesn’t have to."

I open my eyes, lifting my face to delicately place my chin on his muscled pec.

"I have a surprise for you... something you might like."

I smile softly. "What is it?"

"Where," he corrects. "It’s in France."

I rise even higher to fold my arms on his chest, still glistening from a sheen of sweat over his skin.

"I want more time with you—not just these little moments, however invaluable. I listened to your speech about your father’s upcoming agenda and your own itinerary. I know you have a lot of obligations to fulfill and—"

"When do we leave?"

A spark of surprise. "Seriously?"

"Those duties are ones I can delegate and can have other trusted people supervise. Just like I did when I did volunteer work during those international deployments—in fact, that’s exactly the excuse I can give to take a leave of absence."

"You would leave with me... just like that?"

"I’ll be with you," I say, laying my chin on my forearm, staring back up at him with a dreamy smile. "And that’s all I need to know."

This would be our time, for us, a chance to see if light can come from shadows, if something pure can stem from the roots of darkness.

***

Luciano comes back home just when Silas and father arrive from their out-of-state trip. I wait for them in the lounge with my suitcase parked near my couch. When they pass through the entryway, the buzz of conversation filters into silence when they catch glimpses of me in the living room.

My dad’s eyes alone demand an answer.

"I wanted to wait for you guys before I left—"

The lounge erupts into protests, voices clashing in incoherency. I hold up my hands, my words swallowed in until, finally, they ebb enough to let me speak.

"The work is done. Dad is governor now," I begin, steady but firm, scanning the room, catching their wary glances. "I know there are still countless responsibilities—from prep work to fundraisers—but I can delegate those to people I trust. People who handled every political and philanthropic affair the last two times when I left for overseas volunteer work."

Dad, his face impassive but his voice sharp. "I thought we agreed that you’d let those outreach programs... go dormant," he says, each word carefully measured, another reminder of how he wields control over my passions like a leash. "Not that they aren’t important, but you promised to focus on local projects. The last time you did this—you were gone for almost a year. I can’t afford to have you gone for that long again."

"This one will be different," I assure him, keeping my voice calm, resolute. "It’s under four weeks. I’ll be back before the month is out."

From the corner of the room, Luciano’s piercing gaze flickering between dad and me, unspoken thoughts radiating through his eyes beneath his relaxed posture. Finally, he cuts through the silence.

"This isn’t about the Vacherons?" he asks, accuses, his tone deceptively light but edged with a hint of suspicion. "I mean, I was there when you promised dad no more overseas work unless it was local. Now, suddenly, you’re packing up and leaving without any warning or chance for us to talk you down. It feels... desperate."

The words linger like smoke, curling their way toward dad, who glances at Luciano, as though weighing his theory. I straighten, quick to douse the fire.

"The world might revolve around the Vacherons," I say coolly, "but it doesn’t for me. This outreach program is for a good cause and for a limited time." My tone shifts, adopting the careful cadence of propaganda—something dad will understand, something he’ll approve of. "Anything that strengthens my image benefits dad’s. It’s a win-win—being seen garnering goodwill, hands-on, doing the groundwork, and not just giving speeches. A testament to proactive work."

My eyes flick toward the expansive windows, sunlight filtering through the soft curtains. Outside, I catch sight of the black Range Rover pulling alongside the curb.

"I’ll be back before you know it," I say, my words final as I move toward my luggage. "If you’ll excuse me, my ride is here."