Bound to the vampire I must kill-Chapter 42: Whenever you’re ready

Chapter 42

Rhydian carried Seraphina into the inn, ignoring her weak protests that she could walk. He wasn’t about to risk it. She needed rest, and he would make damn sure she got it.

By the time they reached their room, she had already fallen asleep in his arms. He had asked for the best they had, and it didn’t disappoint—spacious, with a large bed, a bathroom, and even fresh clothes. The air was cool, the window curtains swaying gently, making it the perfect place for her to recover.

But Rhydian barely noticed any detail of the room. His focus was solely on the woman in his arms.

Her skin was still streaked with blood, her clothes damp and torn. She needed to be cleaned up.

His throat bobbed.

His gaze lingered on the curve of her lips, the way her damp hair clung to her face. His grip on her tightened for a brief second before he exhaled sharply and carried her toward the bathroom.

The bath was already filled with warm water.

Carefully, he set her down, her body resting against the smooth edge of the pool. He crouched beside her, dipping a cloth into the water before bringing it to her cheek.

The moment the warm cloth touched her skin,Seraphina stirred, blinking as consciousness returned. For a moment, she seemed disoriented—then, her body tensed slightly when she realized where she was.

Rhydian..." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"In the bath... with you?" Her voice was husky, still heavy from sleep.

"I wasn’t going to let you sleep covered in blood," he muttered, more to himself than to her. His voice was rough, thick

She shifted slightly, the movement pressing her body tighter against his. Her breath hitched, and so did his. He should’ve pulled away but he didn’t.

She was warm, soft, too damn close. The way her body molded against his made something stir deep inside him—something primal, something he had no business feeling right now. Her wound had healed, and the poison was cured...but she needed rest.

Her eyes flickered over his face, searching for something. But she didn’t stop him.

He started slow, wiping the cloth over her cheek, down the column of her throat. His other hand steadied her, his fingers brushing against her bare shoulder.

The contact sent a jolt through him.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to focus, trailing the cloth lower, across her collarbone. His fingers followed, lingering a second too long.

Seraphina shivered, her breath hitching.

The room was warm, but she felt like she was burning from the inside out.

Rhydian’s hand tightened around the cloth as he dragged it lower, tracing the curve of her arm, her wrist. His fingers brushed over the inside of it, where her pulse pounded beneath his touch.

His gaze flicked up to hers.

His hand moved lower, over the slope of her chest, down to her waist. The cloth was forgotten, his fingers now tracing bare skin, his thumb brushing just above the hem of her soaked clothes.

Seraphina sucked in a breath.Heat coiled low in her stomach, something unfamiliar, something she hadn’t let herself acknowledge until now.

Rhydian’s fingers stilled against her side, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"Seraphina..." his voice was hoarse, almost pained.

She looked up at him, and for the first time, she truly saw him.

Not the cold, unfeeling warrior. Not the enemy she had once thought him to be.

But a man.

A man who was fighting the same war inside himself, a man whose jaw was clenched like he was holding himself back from doing something reckless.

Her lips parted, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She reached out, fingers skimming along his jaw, down to his throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her touch.

That was all it took.

Rhydian let out a low, guttural sound before his hand shot up, tangling into her hair, tilting her face up to his.

Then—his lips crashed onto hers.

Heat exploded between them, raw and desperate.

The world outside that moment ceased to exist.

Seraphina gasped against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails raking down his skin.

Rhydian groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips.

His hands roamed lower, over the curve of her hips, pulling her onto his lap.

The second she settled against him, a sharp gasp tore from her lips.

She felt him.

Hard. Thick. Pressing against her core through the soaked fabric separating them.

Her entire body tensed, her thighs tightening around his.

Rhydian let out a ragged breath, his head falling back for half a second before he grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze back to his.

"Seraphina," he rasped, his voice filled with raw need. "You have no idea what you’re doing to me."

She did know. And she wanted to.

This time, she kissed him again, harder this time.

His control shattered.

He moved fast, gripping her hips, grinding her against him. The friction sent a shockwave through both of them, a low growl escaping him as she let out a sharp, breathy moan.

"Fuck," he muttered against her lips, his grip tightening, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

His mouth left hers, trailing down her jaw, her neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin there, his teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper.

Her back arched, pressing her chest against his. His lips trailed lower, down her collarbone, over her shoulder.

Seraphina was dizzy, her body betraying her completely. The way he touched her—like he needed her, like he was barely holding himself together—set her on fire.

His fingers slid up her thigh, pushing the soaked fabric aside. He could feel the heat of her, the way she trembled beneath him.

His control was slipping fast.

He wanted her.

Wanted to feel her, taste her, devour her.

But then—she hesitated.

It was brief. A slight tensing of her body, a shift in her breathing.

Rhydian froze.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his fingers still pressed against her skin. But he didn’t move.

Seraphina’s lips parted, her eyes searching his.

Then, slowly, she pulled back.

Rhydian let out a slow, ragged exhale, his hands dropping to his sides.

He didn’t question her. Didn’t demand anything more.

Instead, he lifted a hand, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. His eyes still burned with desire, his entire body coiled so tightly, his length aching from how hard he was—but he respected her decision.

"Whenever you’re ready," he murmured, voice strained.

Seraphina swallowed, her heart pounding.

She didn’t know when she’d be ready, or what was holding her back. Maybe it was the reality that this wouldn’t last—that once this was over, they would go their separate ways. After all, she was the one who had set those terms. She was the one who had asked for the divorce.