CHAPTER 140: CHAPTER 140: KNIVES

Victor had thought he’d satisfied his craving once, but the scent of imperial iris proved him wrong. It wasn’t a whisper anymore, saturating the air and winding through every breath until his composure snapped like glass in the heat.

He pressed Elias deeper into the cushions, mouth hungry at his throat, pulling at every sound his mate couldn’t hold back. "You’re mine," he growled against his skin, the words more like a vow than a claim, roughened by the way Elias’s scent burned through him. "And you’re not done. Not nearly done."

Elias shivered beneath him, his own body arching up, hips grinding forward with raw impatience. His breath broke on a curse, low and desperate, his fingers dragging at Victor’s hair as though he could anchor himself there. "Then take me again," he rasped, no hesitation this time. His scent spilled sharper with the words, heat rolling through the room.

Victor’s crimson eyes blazed, molten, wickedly delighted. "Say it again," he demanded, sliding his hand hard down Elias’s side, gripping his hip in a bruising hold. "So I know you mean it."

"Take me," Elias repeated, voice cracking under the hunger clawing through him. "Take me again."

The second joining was rougher, hungrier. Victor thrust deep, a groan tearing from his throat at the way Elias tightened around him, as if the bond itself pulled them together. Elias cried out, sharp and broken, his legs locking high around Victor’s hips.

"Again," Victor gasped, his forehead pressed hard against Elias’s, his body moving with a relentless rhythm that set the couch groaning beneath them. "I could do this forever. You..." his teeth found Elias’s lower lip, tugging it hard, "make me want to."

Elias’s nails scored down Victor’s back, leaving faint burning trails, his head tipping back against the cushions as his voice broke on another sound that was nothing like denial. "Then don’t stop," he breathed, raw, reckless. "Don’t you dare stop."

Victor’s laugh came low and dark, almost a growl, muffled against Elias’s mouth as he thrust harder, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. His control was gone, abandoned to the hunger that his mate’s pheromones fed, but Elias matched him, pulse racing, body writhing beneath his with equal greed.

The air thickened, sharp with imperial iris and smoke, their bond burning hot and insistent at their throats, echoing every thrust and gasp back into each other until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Victor’s hand found Elias’s, pinning it against the cushion beside his head, their fingers lacing together as his pace drove sharper. His voice came harsh, unsteady, as close to unraveling as Elias had ever heard it. "My omega, my mate, take me. All of me."

The words struck hard, Elias’s body seizing around him, voice breaking in a cry that tore itself free. His pheromones flared so sharp and sweet it nearly blinded Victor, the scent of imperial iris cresting with his release.

Victor snarled low in his throat, thrusts snapping harder, deeper, until instinct swallowed every last shred of control. His knot swelled, locking them together, his body jerking with the force of it as he spilled into Elias, filling him deep until there was no space left to claim.

Elias gasped, his legs tightening desperately around Victor’s hips, his nails digging into his mate’s shoulders as the bond pulsed hot and merciless at both their throats. He could feel it, the fullness, the raw inevitability of being tied to him, claimed in a way that no one else could undo.

Victor collapsed forward, chest pressed to Elias’s, his mouth at his throat, his voice a ragged growl that vibrated through his skin. "Mine. Every time. Every breath. Mine."

And Elias, too wrung out to argue, let his head fall back against the cushions, lips parting on a trembling exhale. "Yours," he admitted, voice raw, helpless, and true.

—

The chair was too deep, the blanket too heavy, and the latte warming his hands far too comfortable for the kind of company that had just walked into the room.

Elias squinted over the rim of his mug, brown eyes narrowing faintly as Samael and Connor took it upon themselves to seat themselves without invitation.

Of course.

NumenCorp’s wolves never knocked; they simply appeared when Victor allowed it or when they decided politeness was optional. Elias wasn’t sure which irritated him more.

The blanket tugged tighter around his shoulders as he shifted, curling into the chair like it might form a barricade. His muscles still ached, his throat still carried the faint burn of Victor’s mouth, and every inch of him felt marked. Which, judging by the way Victor practically radiated across the room, was precisely the point.

The man looked... smug. Not just smug, glowing. As if the storms that usually lived in his crimson eyes had burned clean, leaving something sharper, steadier, and unreasonably self-satisfied. He was half-reclined against the table, sleeves rolled back, expensive watch catching the morning light, the picture of an executive at ease, except for the fact that Elias knew exactly why.

And of course, Samael noticed. His gaze flicked once between them before settling on Victor with a dry, cutting edge. "You look... refreshed."

Victor’s mouth curved, slow and dangerous, as he adjusted his cufflinks. "I am."

Elias buried his mouth against the rim of his latte, hiding the twitch of his lips. He didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of seeing him react, not when his scent still faintly carried the afterglow of last night, imperial iris, warm and sharp, threaded through the air like proof.

Connor, sprawled like he owned the chair he’d taken, tipped his head toward Elias with a grin that was too sharp to be casual. "So this is how you keep our fearless leader from burning out the city."

Elias gave him a look that could easily burn cities. "Are you here to gloat or for something important, as Adam said?"

Connor’s grin widened, teeth flashing. "A little of both, actually. Hard not to gloat when the air in here still smells like a love hotel."

Elias’s jaw tightened, the latte held steady in his hands only because putting it down would look like admitting defeat. "Charming," he muttered flatly. "Really, you should print that on your business cards. Connor, professional nuisance."

Victor’s laugh was low, velvet-dark, but warm enough to thread through the tension. He didn’t move from his lean against the table, his crimson eyes cutting briefly to Connor. "Careful. He has claws when provoked."

Samael, still standing as if he’d rather not sit in whatever battlefield this breakfast had turned into, exhaled once, sharp through his nose. "Claws are the least of our concern. Adler’s name attached to that paper changes things." His gaze shifted to Elias, deliberate, weighing. "And the fact your initials appear in it changes them further."

The words landed like cold stone in Elias’s chest, his fingers curling tighter around the mug. The bond pulsed warm at his throat, Victor’s pheromones sliding across the room in a subtle warning that made Samael’s mouth snap shut.

Victor pushed off the table and came to stand behind Elias’s chair. His hand found Elias’s shoulder beneath the blanket. "Not his problem," Victor said, voice calm but lethal. "Mine. Adler thinks he can catalog what belongs to me? He’ll find out how wrong he is."

Connor tipped his head back against the chair, grinning like this was better than any boardroom brawl. "See? Fire hazard. All because of you, Clarke."

Elias finally lowered his latte, turning his gaze on him with a dryness sharp enough to cut glass. "And yet somehow you’re still breathing."

Connor only laughed harder, clearly delighted.

Victor’s thumb brushed against Elias’s collarbone, subtle but insistent, dragging his focus upward until all he could see was crimson eyes burning steady above him. "Ignore him. We deal with Adler and with Clarke on my terms. You..." his hand squeezed, a silent command. "...drink your coffee and let me handle the knives."