Chapter 201: A Hunger Without Restraint

The cabin air felt less like "cold" and more like the atmosphere had quietly lowered its oxygen subscription plan. But then Zarius moved, and suddenly the whole frozen, empty feeling disappeared.

He didn’t just reach for Cherion, he completely swallowed him up in one movement. It felt less like a hug and more like the dramatic final scene of a slow-burn romance that had dragged everyone through emotional torture for Gods know how long. Zarius’s arms locked around him like steel bars, hauling Cherion clean off the ground until his feet were basically decoration.

Then came the kiss.

This was not one of those soft, poetic kisses people write about in flowery love letters. It was messy. Desperate. Slightly catastrophic. Teeth bumped. Someone’s lip got caught. Tongues collided like they were in a fight for survival. The warmth crashed into him without warning, sudden enough to wipe every coherent thought straight out of his head.

Zarius didn’t break the contact, not even as he began to move. He carried Cherion through the threshold.

They reached the staircase, a narrow death trap made of wood that should have required two hands and a focused gaze to navigate. Zarius used absolutely none of those things.

Cherion’s brain was so overloaded with pheromones and Heat-induced nonsense that coherent thought had basically left the building. The awe, however, remained. How? How was this man climbing up stairs while carrying the full weight of another grown man and still making out like his life depended on it?

It honestly felt like Zarius had some built-in wolf GPS connected directly to the house itself. He didn’t stumble. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look down. He just kept climbing like some possessive predator returning to his den with the prize he’d finally managed to catch.

Halfway up the stairs, Zarius’s hand shifted.

The movement was terrifyingly smooth. One quick flick, one practiced tug, and Cherion’s heavy travel vest came undone like Zarius had rehearsed this exact move in his head every night before sleeping. The vest didn’t even fall dramatically. It just gave up and slid down onto the landing below like it knew resistance was pointless.

They didn’t make it to the top of the stairs before the bedroom door was shouldered open. Moonlight filtered through the windows in long silver strips, making the cabin feel calmer than it had any right to be. A huge bed sat in the middle, buried beneath thick dark furs that practically screamed rich northern duke aesthetic.

They hit the mattress hard enough to rattle Cherion’s teeth.

Zarius was immediately on top of him, all muscle and heat and overwhelming weight. They stayed tangled together for a long, dizzy moment, kissing like two people who had completely forgotten how breathing was supposed to work.

Then, somewhere in the middle of another dangerously distracting kiss, Cherion finally saw his chance.

His hands slid from Zarius’s neck to his shoulders, gripping tight as the Duke leaned forward again without thinking. Using that exact moment against him, Cherion twisted sharply to the side with a sudden burst of determination fueled almost entirely by stubbornness, bad decisions, and emotional instability.

The world tipped.

A second later, Cherion was the one on top, straddling Zarius’s waist with his knees sinking into the thick furs.

Cherion’s fingers shook as he fumbled with the fastenings of his doublet, though definitely not from fear. The hunger crawling under his skin felt alive at this point. Zarius reached up, his large, scarred hands covering Cherion’s smaller ones, helping him rip the garment free. It was tossed somewhere behind them, joining the trail of abandoned clothing they’d been leaving across the cabin like two emotionally unstable breadcrumbs.

When they finally broke the kiss to suck in the oxygen their lungs were screaming for, a faint string of saliva still stretched between them.

Cherion leaned back slightly while still sitting firmly on Zarius’s hips, breathing like his lungs were filing formal complaints. His face was flushed bright red, heat practically pouring off him despite the freezing cabin air. He stayed right where he was, pinning the Duke against the pile of dark furs while trying, and failing, to look calm about his very obvious victory.

The silence afterward felt dangerous.

Like the universe itself was waiting for something terrible to happen.

Cherion broke it first. "This is... this is entirely unfair, Your Grace."

Zarius looked up at him. "Unfair?"

"A scam," Cherion hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Look at you. you’re already naked. Naked as the day you were born. And here I am, robbed of the chance to strip you down. Though I can’t deny it’s making things easier. But still."

Instead, a low growl rolled out of his chest so deeply it practically vibrated through the bed itself.

"Forgive me for that," Zarius rumbled,his hand coming up to cup Cherion’s cheek. "But you’re wrong. It wasn’t just the clothes I stripped away. I’ve already shed everything else, Cherion. My dignity. My restraint. There’s nothing left of the ’proper’ man you think I am. You’ve burnt every bit of him away."

As he spoke, Zarius shifted beneath him. That was when Cherion felt it, the heavy, throbbing length of Zarius’s arousal pressing hard against his inner thigh. It was a massive, scorching bar of iron that seemed to grow even more rigid the moment Cherion moved. The thin fabric separating them feel like a pathetic, paper-thin barrier.

Cherion’s eyes traveled down, his breath hitching in his throat. He let out a shaky, breathless laugh. "Oh... I see. Someone really can’t exercise restraint anymore, can he?"

Zarius’s hands shot out, gripping Cherion’s hips with enough force to leave bruises. "I believe I am not the only one in this room who is struggling, Cherion. Your scent is... it’s screaming."

Cherion then slid off Zarius’s lap. He didn’t move far, just enough to stand in the wash of moonlight spilling through the window..

With Zarius watching from the bed like a starved wolf stalking its final meal, Cherion reached for the hem of his undershirt. He held Zarius’s gaze as he pulled the thin fabric up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor without a sound. Then his hands moved to the button of his trousers.

He let the trousers drop. Then the underwear.

The fabric hit his ankles in a soft heap. He stepped out of the circle of clothes, standing completely bare in the moonlight. The cool air raised goosebumps on his skin, but the heat radiating from his own core made it feel like he was standing in front of a furnace. He felt exposed, powerful, and utterly terrified in the best possible way.

He could see the way Zarius was reacting. The Duke was no longer sitting, he was coiled. His hands were gripping the bedsheets so tightly that the sound of the fabric straining was audible. The veins in his forearms stood out like twisted rope.

Zarius didn’t wait for an invitation.

He lunged. His hand snaked out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Cherion’s waist, and with one forceful, possessive tug, he hauled Cherion back onto the bed.

The air was knocked out of Cherion as he hit the furs again, but before he could even blink, Zarius was over him, a crushing weight that felt like the entire North had fallen on top of him.

Zarius buried his face in the crook of Cherion’s neck. His nose brushed against the sensitive skin of the scent gland, and he let out a ragged, tortured sound that was half-moan, half-growl. He didn’t just smell Cherion; he inhaled him.

The scent was finally beginning to peak, a thick, intoxicating aroma of honey and warm vanilla, layered over the sharp, salty tang of skin. It was a cloying, beautiful scent that seemed to fill the room, drowning out the smell of pine and cold.

Zarius’s teeth grazed the skin over Cherion’s pulse point, a sharp reminder of the "Monster" that lived beneath the title. Cherion arched his back, his fingers tangling in Zarius’s hair, pulling him closer even as the Duke pinned him deeper into the dark pelts.

Zarius pulled back just enough to look into Cherion’s eyes, his voice came out low and rough enough to send chills down Cherion’s spine.

"I’ve spent months imagining exactly how you’d look without these walls between us," Zarius rasped, his chest heaving against Cherion’s. "Every layer of wool, every piece of silk... I’ve stripped them off you a thousand times in my head."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against Cherion’s ear, his breath hot and damp.

"Don’t think I’m going to let you stay that far away for another second."