Someone shoved the bathroom door open and carried me inside. The bright ceiling light blinded me for a moment, making me squint, but I still managed to glance at the mirror above the sink, and I couldn't believe my eyes.
No, it couldn't be him. Impossible.
He wouldn't risk himself for me.
If Kaandor didn't kill him now, I would strangle Stas later with my own hands, simply because he couldn't be such an idiot!
I wanted to tell him to let me go immediately and get out of the room before the worst began. I didn't need witnesses to my weakness, nor would I want concerned glances about every overly sharp movement later.
He shouldn't have seen me like this again.
I was burning with shame from the inside, and that didn't make the transformation any easier; on the contrary, it made me resist the wolf even harder, hoping my last strength would be enough to let Stas leave. But contrary to my expectations, Stas kept carrying me instead of quickly throwing me into the room and locking the door. He carried me to the shower. Shifting my body to hold me up with one hand, Stas expertly moved the glass shower door with the other and stepped inside, carefully setting me down on the cold tile. Seeking relief from the madness burning inside me, I leaned my back against the nearest wall and began to breathe deeply through my mouth, trying to look down at the body-colored tiles but couldn't keep my gaze for long: the rough texture shimmered and irritated, just like Stas, who, unlike me, had grabbed his robe from the pool and now stood in it with me in the tiny space, from which Smirnov would have nowhere to run soon. Damn idiot.
"You need to stand up," he said and closed the glass door behind him. "The shower here is fixed; I can't lower the nozzle. If I turn on the water, you'll get wet again."
I barely swallowed, trying to force myself to speak. My jaws ached, as if they were too cramped in a human mouth. My fangs itched, desperately wanting to sink into soft flesh, but still, the words slowly returned to me, just before it became too late.
"I'll give you ten seconds to get out of here," I rasped, looking up at Stas from under my brow, hoping that my appearance would finally convince him of the seriousness of the situation.
"You won't be able to handle it alone. Kostya won't make it here in time."
"Ten."
"Cold water will cool your ardor."
I shook my head, knowing full well that such a little thing would hardly stop Kaandor. I needed to offer something equally interesting and valuable to the beast to make him decide to abandon the prey he had almost bitten into.
I shook my head, well aware that such a little thing would hardly stop Kaandor. I needed to offer something just as interesting and valuable to the beast, to make him decide to abandon the prey he had almost bitten into.
"Nine."
Stas grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, but I resisted.
"Eight."
He tried to pull me again.
"Come on, get up."
"Seven."
"Don't make me lift you by force."
"Six."
Stas turned on the water, but contrary to his expectations, the thin streams barely touched my legs. The splashes flew in all directions, bouncing off the surface of the tiles.
"Five."
Smirnov grunted in displeasure, then leaned in and decisively wrapped his arms around my waist. He straightened up and pulled me toward him so tightly that almost every cell of my body seemed to sink into the soft fabric of his robe. Stas turned, pressing my back under the icy streams, but it wasn't enough. I could have sworn I heard the drops hissing and turning into steam as they hit my overheated skin.
"You have to leave," I tilted my head back, putting my face under the water. "Four."
"I won't think about it."
"Three. If I turn around now, I'll kill you."
"You won't hurt me."
"How confident."
"Two."
"You love me."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. All this time, he had been reading me like an open book on a shelf in a store, and the most terrible part was that I knew perfectly well: no matter how many pages he turned, my story would remain resting among the others, because it belonged to a different genre.
Stas was looking for fun, casual relationships, and he had made this clear to me more than once. There was no sense in why I was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. No sense in the confession. Especially now, when I no longer had the strength to hold back Kaandor. It was too late.
"No," I lied, first of all to myself, and the word stung my already wounded heart in my chest. "I don't love you. Go away, Stas. Alone."
I closed my eyes again and prepared to give way to Kaandor, bitterly understanding what this would lead to. The defeat tasted like copper, and the tears that threatened to spill burned my eyes.
I gasped for breath when his palm rested on the back of my neck and pulled my head toward him. For a moment, I opened my eyes in confusion, and our gazes met. I had never seen so much determination on Stas's face before. For a second, it even seemed like I could see a wrinkle forming between his brows, and yet he was only eighteen. How life had worn both of us down over the past year.
He paused for a second, as if searching for something in the reflection of my eyes, but I was already starting to drown in the darkness, silently praying to the universe not to witness how Kaandor would begin tearing Stas apart. A familiar painful itch appeared at the tips of my fingers: my claws were begging to come out, and I involuntarily clenched my hands into fists, hoping to delay the inevitable, to give Stas one last chance to reconsider. Let the darkness finally take me.
I don't want to be part of this.
I can't be part of this.
And then Stas did the last thing I expected. His lips covered mine, and I just kept staring, not believing what was happening. My body froze. I was afraid to move or respond to the kiss, even though the fire inside me raged with unfamiliar, new shades. I was afraid to touch Stas, even though, at that moment, more than anything in the world, I longed to do so.
Sensing my turmoil, he only held me tighter. Stas's breathing grew ragged, and in my chest I could hear the wild gallop of his heart, echoing as though it beat for us both. It pounded so fiercely that I felt its tremors even through the damp fabric of my robe. He tore his lips from mine only to scatter a dozen gentle kisses across my face, each one setting my stomach aflutter. His mouth traveled from my lips, along my cheekbone, to my ear, and then slowly descended to my neck. When he reached the hollow between my collarbones, a gasp escaped me, as though he had struck the precise note of some hidden, enchanted instrument. I wanted him to go on. I needed him to.
He pulled back, searching my eyes as if asking for permission. His gaze had darkened, and I found myself staring at his lips, marveling at how soft they were. I longed for them, longed to know their taste and brand it into memory forever.
To hell with it.
I cupped his face in my hands and crushed my mouth to his, drinking in every drop his kiss could offer me. Stas's tongue pressed insistently against mine, turning the kiss hotter, more demanding—like we had both been waiting far too long. An eternity too long. Now, neither of us could get enough. I let my hands roam freely, aware that this might be the first and the last time we were together. My fingers fumbled at the belt of my robe, struggling so long with the knot that Stas finally had to help me.
I wanted all of him. I ached to touch the skin hidden beneath the soft terrycloth that seemed to keep us apart, holding us back from becoming one. I needed to know him completely—even if there would be nothing after. I didn't care. This moment was mine, and no one could take it away.
My body responded to his touch like a pliant instrument in the hands of its master. He pressed me against the wall so hard it stole my breath, yet I reveled in every sensation, whispering in his ear, begging him not to stop.
Stas never needed to be asked twice.
He slid his arms beneath me, lifting me easily. My legs wrapped around his torso, holding him with a desperate strength, as though some hidden part of me feared the spell would break, that he would slip away—and I couldn't let that happen. Against all reason, I clung to the fleeting gift fate had granted, devouring the passion of his stolen kiss, refusing to think of Kaandor or of the nightmare that might descend upon us at any moment.
There was only now.
His fingers no longer traced my skin with idle tenderness; they dug into my thighs with bruising force, as if he feared this was all an illusion, and the moment he awoke, I would vanish like a mirage.
But I was here. I was real. I felt every new touch, each one sparking into a wildfire inside me, flames licking at my heart until moans spilled unbidden from my lips.
Stas's hand slid across my cheek, and for the first time I caught the darkened gleam in his eyes—raw, unrestrained desire to dissolve into me, to cross into that uncharted closeness known only to two hearts beating in unison.