Bloodbound to the Lycan King Chapter 56 56

We stay like this for what feels like forever.

Desire once boiled in my veins, but now simrs, left untended. Mundane issues shove away the fog of arousal and obsessive cataloguing of each breath he takes.

My back hurts.

He's got partially bent over his arm, and the unnatural position leaves off-kilter, my balance thwarted and my core muscles begging for a gym mbership.

I pat Asher's back gently at first. A tentative tap-tap against rigid muscles, warm and soft beneath my hands. No response. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, his breathing deep and ravenous, like he's inhaling into his soul. Sotis, I almost feel like he really is—like sothing inside of is being absorbed into him. But it's just my addled imagination going haywire.

"Asher," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the aggressive drone of all three of the RV's air conditioning units.

Another grunt. He nuzzles closer, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin below my ear. A shiver runs through , desire spiking sharp and hot before fading back to a dull throb.

My pats turn firr. More insistent. The gentle rhythm becos an urgent drumming against his broad back.

"Asher." Louder this ti, my voice steady even as my legs tremble beneath their demand. "Asher, please."

But he's lost sowhere I can't follow. His grip tightens fractionally, and I feel the hard planes of his chest press against mine with each breath he takes. A tremor passes through him, and an answering shiver of want flares dangerously low in my abdon.

And then it's gone again, doused by the growing ache in my spine.

"You're going to snap in half," I finally gasp, shoving against his shoulders. I'm desperate for relief. "Please, let go. My back hurts!"

His entire body goes stiff.

For one blessed mont, I think he's heard . That he'll release and let blood flow back into my cramping limbs and ease my body's muscle failure.

Instead, his arms constrict further, an iron vise crushing against him. His grip becos almost painful, bordering on desperate.

"No." His denial is hot against my skin. "I can't let you go."

The anguish in his words is enough to stem my rising irritation. This isn't the terrifying Lycan King speaking. This isn't even the overbearing Asher who stord into the camper monts ago.

This is another him entirely, sothing broken and vulnerable. My chest hurts hearing him.

Reluctantly, I wrap my arms around him again, patting his back gently as I sigh. "At least let stand up straight."

When he first ripped off my shirt, my mind had gone straight into the gutter, assuming a much more sordid situation to co. Unfortunately, he hasn't done a thing except… breathe. A lot of hot, heavy breathing.

Wait—did I just say that's unfortunate…?

Asher grunts, which is not an answer to my question at all. Then his hands drop lower, fingers curving around my ass and pressing dangerously close to the sensitive area between my thighs.

My breath hitches.

He suddenly lifts off the ground. Instinct kicks in, and I tighten my embrace around his neck, my legs flying around his waist on their own accord. A small shriek escapes my lips, echoing through the cramped camper.

But my back finally has the relief it was begging for.

"What are you—"

He doesn't answer, doesn't even look at . His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, puffing out hot breaths as we walk the few steps to Echo's daybed. Each movent jostles against him, creating delicious friction.

The simr returns to a boil.

My thighs clench tighter around him for stability, and he lets out a tortured groan.

"Stop," he growls against my skin, his voice rough like gravel. "Stop, or I'll lose what little control I have left."

The absurdity of his statent hits . He tore off my shirt.

"Control?" I ask blankly. "You consider what you're doing right now 'in control'?"

His only response is to tighten his grip on my ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. The daybed creaks under our combined weight as he lowers us down, sohow managing to keep straddling him. The position feels dangerously intimate, yet he still hasn't looked at my face even once.

"Asher," I try again, fighting against the fog of desire clouding my judgnt. With the relative safety of the bed against my back, I slide my arms from around him and press my hands against his chest, attempting to create so space between us. "This isn't normal. You can't just burst in here and—"

"You're driving crazy," he interrupts, pressing soft kisses against my neck.

I grind my teeth together, fighting my body's debauched insistence on letting him do whatever he wants with . "You tore off my shirt."

He finally lifts his head from the crook of my neck, staring down at . It shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but here we are, drowning in an ocean of sexually gray boundaries. "It was in the way. I need your skin against mine, Violet. I need your scent. Your warmth."

The possession in his voice sends a contradictory thrill through . Part of wants to slap him for his arrogance, while another part—a part I'm not particularly proud of—has already given him the keys to my body, giving him full ownership.

"No," I manage firmly, though my body betrays by lting further against him. "You can't."

"You're mine," he rumbles, ignoring my protest. "Mine to protect. Mine to..." He trails off, his eyes darkening as they roam over my face.

"To what?" I challenge, my heart hamring against my ribs. As if I'm waiting for a specific answer.

Am I?

Instead of answering, Asher brings his hands to either side of my head before lowering himself onto his elbows. His nose bumps mine. His lips brush against my lips. Once. Twice. Then there's space again as he pulls back, watching with pupils so dilated only a thin ring of gray remains.

"Just mine," he repeats, his voice rougher than before.

Limbo has in a chokehold, leaving hovering between desire and reason.

"What if I don't want to be yours?"

His lips quirk into sothing almost resembling a smile—the first I've seen from him.

Ah. When did the scary aura around him fade?

"Then why are your legs still wrapped around ?" he asks, light and teasing. Like he's a whole different person from the man who found in the forest. From the one who dominated an entire pack with his fury. Who told I was his prisoner.

A fierce blush suffuses my cheeks and I turn my head away from his tempting face. But when I try to unlock my legs, they just… don't listen. They remain wrapped around his waist as he rocks his hips forward, shoving against the most sensitive part of .

Echo's shorts, which were already a questionable length to begin with, have ridden up until they barely cover what's necessary. My thighs are completely bare against the heat of his skin, even hidden behind denim.

A soft moan cos out of unbidden, and Asher chuckles. The sound is dark. An invitation to sin.

"Look at , Violet."