Page 71 of Tethered Fates

If my former self could see me now, the man who laughed at Luc for being a pathetic romantic, he’d never let me live this down. Or fall instantly for Teagan, and I’d have to fight him…

“I’m going to change,” I say to Teagan’s back while he pulls off the sofa’s cushions to inspect each one, because clearly finding my soulmate has driven me insane if I’m jealous of an imagined version of myself.

I head into my bedroom, my blood thrumming with Teagan so close. I quickly strip off the horrific culottes and pull on a pair of grey sweats. While Teagan is here, I need to tell him what we found out about his tether with Summer. As much as I want to hide the truth to protect him, it hasn’t worked out in the past, and I don’t want him blindsided again.

“What’s this?”

For a human, Teagan is surprisingly light on his feet, and I was so in my mind that I didn’t notice him come in.

I turn, find him staring at the mess of paint I made on the wall.

The lights are off, the only glow coming from behind the closed curtains.

“Sen?” he turns to me, gaze travelling the length of my body, his breath hitching. “What is it?”

I let the T-shirt I was about to put on slip through my fingers, dropping to the floor so I can take a single step towards him.

“I’m not as talented as you,” I joke, but it comes out strained. “But I wanted to…I wanted to feel you.”

A sudden burst of spicy cinnamon flares from Teagan and hits me like a shot of adrenaline. His breathing becomes hard, his gaze so heated I could melt. I move closer, gulping in that scent, my hands clenching.

“Can I…?” he asks, low and raspy and so needy that my cock twitches.

“Anything,” I groan, the air that leaves my lungs scorching. I’m already going to give him my heart; everything else already belongs to him.

Teagan drops his bag, thrusts his hand inside to pull out a large white paint marker. He turns from me, hand on the wall to steady himself as he draws. His movements fast and rushed, his scent rolling off him. I move closer until I can lay my hands on his hips.

He lets out a gasp, then a moan when my palms slip under his T-shirt to burn my fingerprints against his hot flesh. Softer than the most expensive silks. Hidden behind my canines, my fangs ache to slide into the luxury that is Teagan’s throat, and run my tongue along his fluttering pulse. Have him so close that his blood and salt and fucking soul soak into my bones.

He moves faster as my hands travel up his back, my breathing ragged as my fingers learn the shape of his wiry muscles.

“You are fucking…” I bow to bury my nose into his hair, inhale that spiced cinnamon scent.

“Say it,” Teagan tells me, his dusky voice rushed as he keeps moving.

“You are sensational,” I growl, brushing my lips against the curve of his ear. Feeling him shiver in return.

Teagan drops the pen. He turns to me, and I finally look up to see what he’s done—what I tried so desperately to understand, and he’s articulated. The messy paint wall has turned into something spectacular. Teagan’s drawn arms in the paint—arms that reach and tear and pull and hunger, and at their centre is one figure.

Him.

He stands at the centre, pressed into my wall of painted hands, and stares at me.

I take his chin and lean towards his face, stopping before my lips touch his.

He blinks, eyes hooded. Voice low in the dark room when he says, “You gonna kiss me, slick?”

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart, because if I start…” I brush my thumb against his bottom lip. “I might never stop.”

Teagan’s eyes clash with mine. “Who says I’d want that?”

And because he is brave—so much braver than I’ll ever be—he closes the distance. His lips take mine, and any resolve I had to stay away from Teagan is swept away by the crushing intensity of his mouth.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Teagan

Igrab hold of Sen’s midnight dark hair, arch into the solid heat of his body, and let him part my lips with his tongue. Moaning, I glide my tongue along his, unable to be gentle when I’ve been chasing him since we met.

Sen’s kiss isn’t a slow thing. He devours me whole, and as my fingers twist around his rich locks—demanding he be closer if that were even possible—I kiss him back with the same fervent hunger. Not even caring I’ll never be satiated.