Page 65 of Fat Arranged Mate
Relief floods through me as the beams move away, voices fading into the distance. Still, we remain motionless for five full minutes, ensuring they're truly gone.
When I finally release her, Sera exhales shakily. "That was close."
"Too close." Anger replaces fear, hot and sudden. "What were you thinking, coming out here alone? If they'd found you—"
"I was following a lead," she fires back. "And then some Guardian showed up and I had to run—”
"And that justified putting yourself at risk? We’re in the middle of nowhere—”
"Like you're one to talk," she hisses. "Playing Rambo in the woods with people who'd put a bullet in you if they knew what you are."
We glare at each other in the moonlight, frustration crackling between us like static electricity. Her hair has come loose from its practical bun, wild strands framing her face. Dirt smudges one cheek, and a scratch marks her forearm where branches caught her.
"You could have been killed," I say, voice dropping lower.
"So could you." Her eyes flash with something beyond anger. "Is that what you want? To die proving some point about revenge?"
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Sera steps closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Isn't that exactly what you're doing? Risking everything to hunt the hunters?"
The accusation lands with precision, finding gaps in my armor I didn't know existed. I grab her wrist, stopping another jab, but don't release it.
"I was protecting my packmate," I counter. "Giving him a chance to escape."
"And what about your chance? What about—" She stops abruptly, emotion choking her words. "What about mine?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us has been willing to face. Her pulse races beneath my fingers, her scent—fear, adrenaline, and something uniquely Sera—overwhelms my senses.
"I didn't mean what I said earlier," I admit, voice rough. "About the lottery being a mistake."
Her eyes widen slightly, lips parting with unspoken words. The forest seems to hold its breath around us, the night suspended in this moment of truth.
"Dylan," she whispers, and my name in her voice breaks something loose inside me.
I don't know who moves first. Only that suddenly her mouth is on mine, hot and desperate, hands fisting in my jacket to pull me closer. My back hits a tree trunk as her body presses against mine, all pretense of distance abandoned in the rush of survival and need.
My hands find her waist, fingers digging into soft flesh as I pull her impossibly closer. The kiss deepens, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting of wild berries and desperation. Heat floods through me, primal and urgent.
"We shouldn't," I rasp against her mouth, even as my body betrays my words.
"Shut up," Sera growls, nipping at my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste mingles between us, triggering something feral in my wolf. "For once in your life, Dylan."
Her hands slide beneath my shirt, nails raking down my chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I hiss, the sensation bordering pain and pleasure.
Something snaps in me. In one fluid motion, I twist and reverse our positions, slamming Sera against the tree instead. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as I pin her, squeezing her breast hard in one hand, the other buried near her sex, gripping her there with punishing strength.
"This what you want?" I growl; my voice barely human.
Her answer is a defiant arch of her body against mine. Her crotch grinds up against my hand. I capture her mouth again, harder this time, claiming rather than asking. Releasing her core, I grab her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.
"Down," I command, my wolf too close to the surface now.
We crash to the forest floor, leaves and pine needles crackling beneath us. I hover over her, my legs almost straddling her hips, boxing her in. Her chest heaves with each breath, eyes wild with challenge rather than submission.
"You think I can't take it?”
"I know you can," I reply, voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You were made to take me, Sera Daley.”
