Aida

As we leave Crispin behind and head out into the hall, Argent takes my hand and squeezes softly, as if to silently reassure me.

This guy. I feel as though I have been nothing but a harbour for trouble since we met, yet he takes it all on board, no questions asked, other than how he can help. So selfless. So sweet. So damn attractive.

We're still walking, me absent minded and consumed by the decisions and tasks that lay ahead of me. I'm not even aware of where we're going and before I know it, we're heading into the entrance of the house's extensive library.

It's huge and has loads of slightly hidden, small, cramped reading spaces that eventually give way to larger section upon section of old books, folklore and tales of wolves that went before us. It's both fascinating and frightening.

"I thought we could take a break in here. There's usually no one studying at this time of day, and I could tell your head was spinning," my constant saviour says, head tilted, a small frown crossing his beautiful, planed face as he watches me take it all in.

He gets me without even trying. He gets me. And with everything else that has taken complete control of my turbulent life, he still likes me. Even after all that has already happened in our short time together.

As if my mind has had enough of the non-action, my subconscious has decided to take over. I stand looking up at him, taking him in, and it's as if I'm truly seeing him for the first time. I'm overcome by emotion and something more primal. Need. A need to just touch him, be consumed by him. To be touched by him.

It all spills over.

I throw my arms around his shoulders, throwing him off guard a little. He is stunned for a split second, but I'm already lost in feeling the bulk of his arms, measuring them slowly, inch by inch with my fingertips. I feel a small shudder of response from him as his arms snake around me to meet at my lower back. The tingling, warm sensation I get when I have physical contact with him spreads from my skin to his and back again, and my insides feel as though they may combust.

Without a second thought, I close the distance left between us and press my lips to his, tasting him slowly and waiting for him to respond.

It's swift and sweet. He catches my bottom lip in his teeth, and a guttural sound comes from my throat. He pulls back suddenly, . He licks his bottom lip and then crushes his lips back to mine. Harder this time. More urgent.

I welcome it, opening my mouth and allowing him to deepen the kiss. He responds with feverish movements, his tongue caressing mine and stroking my bottom lip in a way that has me crushing myself to him further, wanting more contact, if that's even possible. No, needing more. Demanding more.

He pushes me backwards slowly, never losing contact with our lips or compressed bodies, until we're resting against one of the two tables set out in the smaller section we had entered. He lifts me slightly and slides my backside onto the table, my legs instantly going around him, placing him in closer to my centre and crushing our bodies together. Dangerously close. I can feel him against me now.

Our hands roam each other's bodies, exploring. His fingers appreciating the curves and dips of my thighs and ass, my hands creeping over his shoulders and caressing his thick, strong back, earning me a growl from deep within his throat. I swallow the noise as we continue to mould our lips together.

He takes his mouth off mine for a second to cup my face with his hands, holding me close as he looks at me, gazing into my eyes, asking for permission but not saying a word. Conveying so much without speaking at all.

"You are mine, and I am yours," he whispers, so close to my ear that the warm breath on my skin forces goose bumps to erupt all over me with a shiver.

"Yes," I manage to say, though my eyes are closed and I'm pulling him back to my lips without even a second to really know what I'm saying.

I just know that I need this. I want this.

I want him.

The pace picks up as his hands again covet my body, rougher now, more urgent. His nails wreak havoc on the skin down my back, but I love it. I love every second of the sweet pain he inflicts upon my body. His fingers itch to remove my top, and I release my arms from around his frame begrudgingly and lift them above my head, obliging, allowing him to remove it all, including my bra. I sit now before him in pants alone and just soak in the look in his eyes.

Argent takes me in, looking at me, appreciating me. His hands are back on me, roaming my naked stomach, tracing lines of fire up to my breasts as he takes one in hand, the other hand wrapping around my frame and pulling me to him in a firm but tender way. Showing me how much he wants me too.

His hand moulds to my shape, and he softly caresses my breast, his fingers teasing me as I shudder in response.

God, I hope no one is in a studious mood now because I can barely think straight at this point, and considering I'm almost naked with a hot guy in front of me, it's going to take some pretty strong willpower to stop where we're heading right now.

I decide it's only fair that I get to see him without a top on too, so I rip it up his back and towards his shoulders, tearing it over his head and discarding to the floor. I rake my eyes over his chest and toned abs; his definition is as pleasing to the eye as it felt under my fingertips.

I bend forward and place slow, soft kisses over his chest and towards his neck. He pushes my face up to meet his with his hands and takes over my lips once more, using his arm that has wrapped around my frame again to angle me more below him. His free hand snakes down, down, down to where I really want it to be.

As he makes his way over my waistband and onto the elastic line of my panties, I suddenly feel as though the heating in the house has taken a plunge to infernal. His body is contorted to mine, melded so that our skin never loses contact, and the sweet friction it causes as he slowly starts to rock on to me makes my mind blow like the volcanic temperatures our skin is creating.

The table edge begins to rock into the large bookshelf behind him, and a small giggle escapes my mouth as we both stop suddenly to look up, making sure that our make out session is not going to spell the end of our lives if we cause a bookshelf to envelope us whole.

That would be an awkward conversation with his father ...

Argent smirks at me and places a chaste kiss on my lips before picking up where we left off, his hand still teasingly close to the edge of all abandon.

He rocks into me again, slower this time with less aggressive thrusts, but it still warms me from the inside out. I keep my lips on his and we work together now, exploring each other's taste.

Argent's fingers dip slowly beneath the band of my underwear and skim my most sensitive skin once, twice, and a small gasp leaves my throat, my eyes wide as I take in the lust filled expression on his face.

His expert tips find their way further south and sweep over my core ever so slightly, making my hips crash up towards his in a moment of sweaty, blissful thoughts and highlighted senses. This throws him off balance mid-thrust, which in turn causes a bigger crash into the bookshelf this time.

We freeze and look at each other, wide-eyed as the shelf starts to sway. Slow motion takes over and as I cling to him, Argent grabs me into his skilled arms, flinging us forward onto the floor just as the shelf tips over, spilling its contents all over the table and onto our heads with an echoing boom.

We lay there for a second. Stunned. Gasping. Laughing. Topless together, as I lay sprawled on top of him with his arms around me, shielding me as he does. As he has done every day that I've known him.

I release my head into his warm chest and just lay there for a moment before we attempt to get up and assess our damage. He kisses me atop my head and pushes us up slowly.

"Well. That was, hot. Until we caused an avalanche," Argent says, kissing me softly once more before helping me sit up amongst a stack of very dirty and dusty old books.

I stifle a giggle as I stand and realise I'm completely topless with no shirt or obliging bra in sight. Argent takes a peek at me and hands me his shirt which was at hand's reach, thank goodness, as I'm sure at least one pack member has heard the crash by now and will be joining us soon.

We start to clean up the books that have covered the floor. Lucky for us, they weren't big solid books but rather seem to be just old photo albums and ancient journals with bound leather binders. Some of the books have landed open, and as we pick them up, I get a glimpse at the wolves gone by, our ancestors. My ancestors. Because I belong here too.

I look at their faces. The clothing is different, but their faces are familiar; similar to pack members living today. They have the same names of people we live with in this house. It's a comfort of sorts. My people. Our people.

I close the album I have in hand and place it on the table. Argent struggles with the shelf and finally gets it upright again as I pick up more and more old books. My strong man.

Out of the corner of my eye, a symbol on a cover of one of the journals catches my attention. It's familiar. Something I've seen before. But where? It's like a rune or a word from an ancient language almost. And I know I've seen it before.

"Do you know this symbol, Arge?" I ask, showing the book cover to him.

He turns to face me and takes the book for a closer look.

"Ah, I think it's the ancient language. The original language of our people. We've all studied the basics on wolf folklore as young pups," he explains, handing the book back to me as I examine the cover with care and awe. "We can look it up if you like. Why do you ask?" He tilts his head, surveying me cautiously. It's hard to take him seriously when he's so close to me with his godlike torso on display like that.

And then I remember. I know where I've seen that symbol before. My face must have fallen because he comes to stand beside me once more, arm around my shoulder. A worried expression crosses his face.

I turn the book around and examine the cover again and again, slowly tracing the symbol with my fingers. I open the cover and look at the inscription. It's in a foreign language but again, it seems familiar to me.

Ex mortuis.

"Do you know this?" I ask him, not missing the grim look on his face now.

"It's Latin. It means family of the dead or dead family." He gulps visibly and takes my face in his hands. "How do you know this book, Aida?" Argent asks, but I don't think he wants to know the answer.

Neither do I.

"I used to see Jasper reading this. This is very similar to the book I was talking about, the same wording," I reply and hug closer into the safety of his warm body. This can't mean anything good.

"Well, I guess we know where we're going next," he says gloomily, and I nod.

Play time is over.