As she turned back toward the mirror, she suddenly saw Silas standing behind her.
A startled scream escaped her — but it was imdiately muffled by a large, warm hand.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, her heart pounding hard against her chest.
An apologetic look flickered across Silas’ face.
Once he was sure she wouldn’t scream again, he removed his hand from her mouth, and Mirabelle instantly spun around to face him.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
’Is this so kind of beastman habit? Just appearing in a woman’s room?’
A sly grin spread across Silas’ lips, his golden eyes glinting.
"Surprising you."
His voice was low, carrying a seductive undertone.
"Now?" Mirabelle’s voice ca out shriller than intended.
His sudden appearance had completely thrown her off.
"Would it be a surprise if you expected it?"
He tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by her reaction.
Hadn’t she asked for exactly this?
"How did you even find this room?" she asked, trying to change the subject as she moved toward the vanity, fussing with her makeup.
But he saw right through her.
The next mont, he was behind her again, stopping her hand.
His grip was firm.
His arm brushed against hers, and her back pressed against his chest.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Their eyes t again through the mirror.
His face was dangerously close to her neck.
And this ti, he didn’t stop himself.
He leaned down, inhaling the scent where her neck t her shoulder.
Deeply.
He couldn’t detect the scent of another male.
The realization filled him with a deep, quiet satisfaction — so much so that a low purr rumbled in his chest.
The vibration traveled through her back, making the fine hairs on her skin stand on end.
"You sll good," he murmured, his voice rough.
Inside her, a storm of emotions raged.
Each one crashing over her in waves.
’Predator’, one part of her scread. ’Run.’
Another whispered: ’Submit.’
But the loudest voice said:
’Mark him as yours.’
The urge grew so strong that she felt her canines lengthen.
Slowly, they pushed further from her gums.
She couldn’t stop herself. Her lips parted, and a hiss escaped her.
Mirabelle hadn’t even known her teeth could do that.
The panther watched her reaction closely, his eyes darkening.
His grip on her tightened, one hand closing more firmly around hers while the other wrapped around her upper arm.
Then he lowered his head again.
She felt his lips brush against her shoulder.
Softly at first.
But even that featherlight touch was enough.
Sothing inside her snapped.
Flas licked across her skin.
Slowly, they spread, setting everything inside her alight.
She arched back, as if trying to press closer to him.
Her tail curled around his leg, anchoring her body to his, even as her mind struggled to break free from the sensations.
He felt it too.
Hungry, he placed another kiss.
This ti, his tongue flicked out, tracing along her skin.
A soft sound escaped Mirabelle.
It started deep in her chest, rising until she could no longer suppress it.
A purr.
"And you taste even better."
His words fell over her like the first drops of rain after a scorching sumr day.
They hissed against the flas, the steam clouding the last of her resistance.
Her instincts were louder than reason.
With a sharp, almost feral sound, she turned toward him—
—and pressed her lips against his.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss.
It was one filled with desire and raw, animal need.
Sothing ancient stirred between them.
Not human. Not controlled.
Just... need.
His scent wrapped around her, thick and inescapable.
He slled like cold stone and darkness — sothing dangerous that made her pulse stumble.
At first, he let her take the lead.
But then his tongue pushed past her lips, and soon they were fighting for control.
Harsh breaths mixed with low, animalistic sounds — purring, growling.
His hands pressed against her bare back, and he had the feeling her skin was burning him.
She unraveled everything he had ever been, everything he thought he was, and turned him into sothing that saw only her.
There was sothing addictive about him.
She knew she should stop — but her hands didn’t listen.
So her hands slid up to his neck, one burying itself deep in his hair.
For a mont, she tugged at it playfully—
only to soften the next, running her fingers through it again, fascinated by how silky it felt between them.
His weight pushed her backward until she landed against the vanity.
Bottles and small containers clattered to the floor.
Neither of them noticed.
His legs pressed hers apart, placing himself firmly between them, pulling her closer.
He wanted to take her.
Here. Now.
Mirabelle felt sothing hard pressing against her stomach.
Unmistakable.
A/N: By the way... imagine sitting here, blushing like crazy while writing this, while my husband keeps glancing over — and I’m way too embarrassed to explain what’s going on in my head. (〃▽〃)
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