Page 52 of Fated Alpha Baby

“You’re right,” I finally relent with a deep breath, my nostrils flaring. A sharp pain crosses my chest, like my heart is being cut to shreds because I just agreed to something that doesn’t sit right with me.

“It shouldn’t happen again. But am I a brute for wanting it to happen again?”

Hannah looks up, brows furrowed, her expression surprised by my blatant admission.

“You saw what happened last night. You felt it, too, Hannah. There’s no denying it.”

“Conan, I—”

“I know what you’re gonna say, that it’s better this way. But is it, really?” I cock my head to the side, surprised at myself because this was not the direction our conversation needed to go in. “Do you really think that we can be under the same roof without that ever happening again?”

Hannah’s shoulders drop. “We hurt each other, Conan. And there’s no coming back from that. How do we erase what happened? Erase eight years of pain?”

“We can try.”

Somehow, I gravitate toward her until there’s nothing more than an inch between our faces. We were supposed to talk, but here I am, victim to the clutches of her intoxicating scent, unable to think straight when the mate bond yells at me to claim what’s mine. It’s so primal, so insensitive to the things driven by my ego, and I find myself reaching out to cup her cheek.

She doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t run from the feeling. And that’s my undoing. Her willingness to accept the mate bond even when the words she speaks try to deny it.

I drift forward, casually, half-expecting her to pull away. And when she doesn’t, I close the gap between our faces and crush my lips to hers. She moans on the kiss, and I deepen it, throwing caution to the wind. Everything I wanted to say, ask, or speak to her about goes flying out the window as if none of it mattered. The only thing that matters now is the way she responds to my kiss, her body reacting with heat as she arches her back and pushes her chest against me.

I slide my hand through her hair, drawing her closer, my tongue exploring the depths of her mouth as my pants become too tight. I’m just about to curve my arm around her back and draw her closer when the strange, untimely sound of rustling in the bushes on the far end of the house triggers my alertness, and I break the kiss abruptly, frowning as my head snaps in that direction.

“Did you hear that?”

Hannah’s eyes widen instantly, all traces of heat vanishing from her expression as another sound echoes faintly through the hallway.

Glass.

Cracking.

My entire body goes rigid.

“Clarissa!”

Hannah bolts from the dining room before I can even react, panic flooding the mate bond so violently that it punches straight through my chest. I’m on her heels immediately, both of us rushing down the hallway toward the bedrooms. But the sound doesn’t come from Clarissa’s bedroom. It comes from Hannah’s, and she doesn’t stop or hesitate to enter.

“Hannah—”

She disappears into her room. Then screams.

The sound tears through the house with enough terror to stop my heart.

I shove past the doorway and find Hannah standing frozen near the shattered window, her breathing ragged as moonlight spills across the bedroom floor through broken glass.

Cold air rushes inside, the curtains swaying violently against the wind that wafts through the broken window. And smeared across the windowsill is thick black residue that hisses faintly like burning tar. Demon corruption.

My wolf snarls viciously inside me.

“No…” Hannah whispers shakily, stumbling backward. “No, no, no…”

Her eyes dart frantically around the room as if expecting something to emerge from the darkness.

I move toward the window carefully, every muscle tense, my powers already stirring beneath my skin. The scent hits me instantly—sulfur, rot, decay.

So fresh, it’s as if the dark presence is right in front of me, though we can’t see it anywhere close by.

“They were here,” Hannah breathes, voice cracking. “Conan… they were inside the house.”