Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 125

125: Chapter 125 125: Chapter 125 Seraphina’s POV
My phone buzzes against my palm, Damien’s name flashing on the screen.

Emma glances over with those perfectly arched eyebrows, and I swipe to answer before she can make some snide comment.

“Hi.”
“I’m downstairs.

Where are you?”
“Coming down now.”
The line goes dead, and something hot coils in my belly.

Emma is still watching me with that curious expression.

“Have a lovely evening,” she says with sweetness.

I grab my purse and walk past her without a word.

Let her figure out what that was about.

The elevator ride feels endless.

My reflection in the steel doors shows exactly what I expected-messy hair, wrinkled clothes, exhaustion written across every feature.

Damien’s SUV is idling near the garage entrance, engine purring.

He gets out when he sees me, and the sight of him makes my breath catch.

Gone is the business suit from earlier.

Now he’s wearing dark jeans that hug his thighs and a gray sweater that does incredible things for his shoulders.

His eyes rake over me as I approach, and there’s heat in that silver-blue gaze that makes me very aware of every inch of skin under my clothes.

“You look like heaven,” he says when I reach him.

“Charming.” But I’m fighting a smile.

“Is that how you talk to all your dates?”
“Just the ones I’m planning to take to bed later.”
My cheeks flush hot.

“Presumptuous much?”
He opens the car door for me, leaning close enough that I can smell his cologne.

“Am I wrong?”
I don’t answer, but the way my breath hitches tells him everything he needs to know.

The drive is torture.

His hand rests on my thigh, thumb tracing lazy patterns through the fabric of my slacks.

Every casual touch sends sparks through my nervous system, reminding me exactly how long it’s been since we’ve done anything more intimate than quick kisses.

“Where are we going?” I ask when we turn onto an unfamiliar road.

“Somewhere with good wine and dim lighting.”
“Planning to get me drunk?”
His fingers squeeze my thigh.

“Planning to get you relaxed.”
The restaurant he’s chosen is all string lights and candlelit tables scattered across a stone patio.

Romantic as hell.

The kind of place that practically screams *anniversary dinner* to anyone with eyes.

The hostess greets Damien by name and leads us to a corner table that’s somehow even more intimate than the others.

Flickering candles, trailing jasmine, the works.

“This is very…” I search for the right word as he pulls out my chair.

“Romantic?”
“I was going to say obvious.”
He laughs, the sound low and warm.

“I’m not trying to be subtle tonight.”
“Good thing I like obvious men.”
“Do you?”
The way he’s looking at me across the candlelit table makes my pulse skip.

“Sometimes.”
We order wine-something red and expensive that I definitely don’t deserve after the day I’ve had.

The alcohol helps loosen the knots in my shoulders, makes the candlelight feel warmer instead of just pretty.

“So,” Damien says, swirling his wine.

“Tell me about your day.”
“You mean besides getting locked in a closet by your perfect assistant?”
“Emma locked you in a closet?”
I wave a dismissive hand.

“Storage room.

And it was an accident.

Supposedly.”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“How long?”
“About an hour.

Long enough to watch you two have what looked like a very productive meeting.”
“You were watching?”
“One-way glass.” I take another sip of wine.

“You two make a good team.”
There’s something dangerous in his expression now.

“Are you jealous, Sera?”
I laugh, but it sounds forced even to my own ears.

“Maybe a little bit.”
“Because if you are, I could fire her tomorrow.”
“You will not fire her because I’m having an insecurity crisis.”
“I’ll fire her if she’s making my mate uncomfortable.”
The possessive note in his voice makes heat pool low in my belly.

“Forget about it, just an incident.”
The food arrives-some fancy pasta thing for me, steak for him.

But I’m barely tasting it because Damien keeps looking at me like he’s planning to devour me for dessert.

“You’re staring,” I point out.

“I’m appreciating.

Being a patient man.

I can wait until we get home to show you exactly how much there is to appreciate.”
My thighs clench involuntarily.

“You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
And damn him, I do.

I love the way his eyes go dark when he looks at me.

Love the way his voice drops to that rough whisper.

Love the way he makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world even when I’m falling apart at the seams.

“Take me home,” I say quietly.

“We haven’t finished eating.”
“I don’t care about the food.”
Something shifts in his expression.

Heat flares in those silver eyes.

“You sure?”
“Take me home, Damien.

Now.”
He signals for the check without breaking eye contact.

Pays quickly, efficiently, while I sit there trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The drive home is charged with a different kind of tension now.

His hand stays on my thigh, but his touch feels possessive rather than casual.

Claiming.

“The kids?” I ask as we pull into our driveway.

“Ophelia’s keeping them overnight.”
“You planned this.”
“I hoped.”
Inside, he doesn’t bother with lights.

The moment the door closes, he backs me against it, his body caging me in.

In the darkness, all I can see is the gleam of his eyes and the sharp line of his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs against my ear.

“Just today?”
“All week.

All month.” His hands frame my face.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Tell me.”
Instead of answering with words, he shows me.

His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s hungry, demanding, full of weeks of pent-up need.

I kiss him back just as desperately, my hands fisting in his sweater.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“Upstairs,” he growls.

But neither of us wants to stop kissing long enough to actually walk.

He lifts me instead, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward our bedroom.

We’re still kissing, still touching, stumbling slightly when he misjudges the hallway corner.

“Smooth,” I gasp against his mouth.

“Shut up.”
Our bedroom is dark except for moonlight streaming through the windows.

He sets me down beside the bed, his hands immediately going to the buttons of my blouse.

We undress each other slowly, reverently, like we’re unwrapping something precious.

When we’re both naked, he pulls me down onto the bed, his mouth finding all the places that make me gasp and arch beneath him.

Without our supernatural bond, I can’t feel his emotions or his wolf’s presence.

But what I feel instead is somehow more intimate.

More real.

This is just us-Damien and Sera, skin against skin, discovering each other all over again.

When he finally moves over me, settling between my thighs, his eyes find mine in the moonlight.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispers.

“Happy anniversary.”