Page 28 of Fated for Dawn

Alister reached out, taking my hand in his. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And for me, it wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a gift—the best one I could ever get.” He paused, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, I may have to adjust to being mortal again. But like I said before, now we can have a family. I can be a father, which is something I have always wanted. We can grow old together.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles, his gaze so full of love that it made my heart ache. “I haven’t lost anything that truly matters. I’m here with you. That’s all I need.”

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arms came around me, warm and solid—human. The steady beat of his heart under my ear was a constant reminder of his new mortality.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “About Eris, about Lia, about everything that’s coming.”

Alister’s hand stroked my hair, soothing and steady. “It is a lot, but we’ll get through it. Just like we did with everything else.”

I tilted my head, meeting his eyes, and leaned in to kiss him. Alister’s hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The gentleness melted away, replaced by heat and need as he drew me onto the bed with him.

He brushed his lips against mine, his voice a low murmur. “Now, let me make good on what I promised at dinner. I might not have thatbite-and-instant-orgasm trickanymore.” His hand traced a line down my back, his gaze smoldering. “But I intend to make up for it in other ways.”

A shiver ran through me. “Guess we’ll see if you live up to the hype,” I teased, barely able to keep the smile off my face.

He grinned, rolling me over so that he hovered above me. “Oh, trust me,” he whispered, his lips grazing my jawline. “I’ve been waiting centuries for you. I intend to get this right.”

His lips traced a path down my neck, lingering, teasing, making my skin ignite under his touch. I arched against him, craving more.

“So impatient, love,” he murmured.

“Screw patience,” I said, tugging the towel. “I want you, now.”

Alister didn’t waste any time either. His fingers deftly unbuttoned the blouse of my school uniform with surprising care. When he caught sight of the lacy bra beneath, his eyes darkened, and a low sound escaped him. “You’re breathtaking.”

“Good,” I purred. “I want you to feel half as crazy as I do.”

Finally, there was nothing between us—just skin against skin, our breaths mingling as he pressed into me, slow and steady, filling me with an intensity that made me gasp. I bit my lip to stifle the sound, savoring his length’s exquisite stretch and warmth.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough. “So perfect.”

“Less talking and more fucking, husband,” I teased, tugging at his hair.

With a smirk, he obliged, his rhythm quickening as the world around us faded into just the two of us.

“Harder, Alister,” I said, my voice catching as pleasure built inside me, coiling tight.

He kissed my temple, his breath hot against my skin. “As you wish, love.”

Alister gave me exactly what I needed, and I shattered around him; my mate followed, his body tensing as he held me close, lost in his release.

We lay there, tangled together, our breaths still coming fast. My fingers traced idle patterns along his back, memorizing the feel of him.

“Well,” I said, still breathless, a grin spreading across my face, “vampire or not, that was spectacular.”

11

Evelyn

“Okay,” I said, tying an apron around my waist and taking charge. “We’re not summoning demons or battling Eris today—just dinner. How hard can it be?”

Chad raised his hand like a kid in class. “Define ‘dinner.’ Because if sandwiches count, I’m your guy.”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “This was a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” I said, handing him a cutting board and a chef’s knife. “It’s a fun family bonding activity, and Mrs. Cook needed the night off. Chop chop, Professor.”

Lucien grumbled under his breath about being the only competent cook and how he should be running the whole operation, but he still took the knife and started chopping onions.

“Rafe,” I continued, pointing to the stove. “You’re on pasta duty. Just boil water and—”

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