Chapter 2 The Taste of Want

POV Lyra:

We are still at the bar celebrating my birthday when Seraphine decides this is the perfect moment to suggest a visit to one of Leston’s tourist attractions, the neighboring city. I take a sip of my craft beer, considering her insane proposal of driving there to take part in what she enthusiastically calls “the best day ever.”

“Seriously, Lyra, we need to go,” Seraphine insists, reinforcing her idea of visiting the themed restaurant in the neighboring city. “It would be hilarious to see you dressed as a vampire for the first time.”

I burst out laughing. It brings back memories of when we were obsessed with vampires, wolves, and witches, dressing up every Halloween. I shrug, unable to accept or refuse her invitation outright. I have too much work at my workshop. I’ve received countless orders for drawings and paintings over the past few weeks, and as much as I love my job, I usually end my days exhausted, with no energy for anything but sleep.

“Are you sure?” I tease, because we both know who the real vampire fanatic is.

“You as a vampire?” Seraphine asks far too loudly, drawing the attention of nearby customers, though she clearly doesn’t care. “No way. You’ve always been Team Wolves. Invitation canceled.”

We laugh together.

During our teenage years, Seraphine was firmly Team Vampires, while I was Team Wolves. Witches were neutral territory for both of us. Fantasy books and movies helped me cope when I discovered I had been adopted by the Moonveil family as a baby.

Mom and Dad never intended to tell me, but after an illness that kept me hospitalized for months, they had no choice but to explain why their blood couldn’t help me.

I spent months confined to bed. Seraphine visited every single day, bringing her fantasy books. When the nurses allowed it, we watched movies together in my room. It was a turbulent time, everything happening all at once—but thanks to the parents I had, I managed to face it with maturity, even though I was only fifteen.

Thinking about my parents brings a wave of longing and sadness so heavy it nearly crushes me. I never got over their deaths—especially because today, twenty-five years ago, I entered their lives.

They died five years ago. First my father, taken by a heart attack caused by his cardiovascular problems. My mother tried to stay strong after losing the love of her life, but grief consumed her. Seven months after my father passed, I had to say goodbye to her too.

I push the sadness away and smile at my friend.

“Consider it canceled,” I declare.

We keep drinking and talking, losing track of time. When I finally check the hour, it’s already past two in the morning. I need to leave—tomorrow I have paintings to deliver early. I stand up and tell Seraphine I’m going to the restroom, then we can head home.

Before walking away, I ask Tharion where the women’s restroom is. He points toward the hallway, explaining it’s the third door on the right. I thank him and head in that direction.

Once in the hallway, I quickly find it. I pass two closed doors and enter the restroom. After relieving myself, I wash my hands and splash cool water on my neck and face.

I don’t feel drunk, but I do feel hotter. My skin burns pleasantly. In the small mirror, I notice my eyes—the color of my irises deepening, something that always happens, though tonight it seems more intense.

I adjust my hair and open the door to leave—

—and collide with something solid, nearly losing my balance. Strong hands grab my arms, stopping me from falling.

I lift my head to thank him and am struck by a living forest reflected in the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen.

The man in front of me watches me with open curiosity as I take him in.

His blond hair falls just above his shoulders. A thick blond beard frames his jaw. On his left cheek, just beneath his eye, there’s a small mole—and for some inexplicable reason, I imagine licking it.

What am I thinking?

He’s so beautiful that for a few seconds, I forget how to speak. The warmth of his hands on my arms makes my body burn even more, burying me under the weight of everything I’m feeling.

“Are you… um, okay?” His voice makes my body tremble, rendering me incapable of answering without betraying exactly what he’s doing to me.

All I can feel is the intensity of his gaze and the fresh scent of mint surrounding him. My heart races. My lips dry instantly, forcing me to wet them with my tongue.

He notices.

His eyes drop to my mouth, and the moment his focus lingers there, my nipples harden and my panties grow damp.

Oh, holy God. Not again.

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

I clear my throat, desperate for at least a shred of my composure to return and chase away the indecent images his presence keeps provoking.

“Y-yes,” I answer, shaken.

He releases me, and I almost groan in protest. His eyes narrow as they slowly trail down my body. When his attention reaches my breasts, my hardened nipples are impossible to miss. I press my thighs together, seeking relief.

His inspection is slow. Thorough.

When he finally stops, his nostrils flare, his irises shimmer, and a smile curves his lips.

A shiver runs through me when his green eyes lift to meet mine again. I’m so affected that breathing becomes difficult.

“You smell like…” he begins, stepping closer. I retreat until my back hits the wall. My breaths come shallow as he stops right in front of me, his mouth mere inches from mine, his minty scent making me dizzy. “Cherry…”

He lowers his head and inhales deeply at the curve of my neck.

“It’s incredible. And I’m dying to taste it.”

I close my eyes as the heat of his breath brushes my sensitive skin. The scent of mint intensifies, forcing me to inhale more of it, leaving me lightheaded.

“I’m so hard for you.”

His blunt words make my eyes fly open, crashing me back into his scent, his face, his voice.

“Who are you?” he asks, far too close.

His eyes gleam, and the dimples in his smile make my heart pound wildly. When his mouth moves toward mine, I jolt, stopping him with my hand pressed flat against his chest.

“I… I need to go,” I say nervously, hurrying away from him.

When I’m far enough, I glance over my shoulder.

He’s still there. Watching me. Smiling.

I stare at the hand that touched him, my skin burning as if I had pressed it against hot embers. He mirrors my gesture, rubbing his chest where I touched him.

I quickly look away and return to Seraphine, my heart racing, my body aching, completely unable to understand what just happened.