Chained By the Alpha (Cleo and Zayn) novel Chapter 7

• Cleo •

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as my frustration and anger churn inside me like a storm. I can’t believe my father would even think of marrying me off to Boyd, let alone question my virginity. It feels like a betrayal, a disregard for my own choices, my life, and not to mention absolutely mortifying.

As I park outside Zayn’s club, I notice the flurry of activity in the beer garden where staff and caterers are setting up for what looks like a coming-of-age party. I briefly wonder what the event is about, but my thoughts are quickly consumed by the need to see the video footage of last night and confront Deacon; more so now with my father trying to marry me off. Deacon may get his wish to mark me sooner than he thinks.

I climb out of the car and make my way inside the club. The pulsating music hits me as soon as I step inside, surprising me with its intensity. The place is alive, even at this hour, and I make my way to the bar, perching on a stool where I wave down the bartender and order a can of Coke.

Taking a sip, I scan the increasingly crowded space, my nerves on edge as I wait for Alpha Zayn. When I spot Boyd weaving through the crowd, my heart sinks. Quickly, I turn back to the bar, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. Luck is clearly not on my side today, or this week, maybe ever it feels like.

“Hey there,” says a deep voice behind me, making me jump when I feel hands slide down my arms. I turn to find Boyd smirking down at me, his eyes roaming over my body with an unnerving hunger before falling on my breasts.

“Boyd,” I grit out, trying to keep my voice steady, despite how repulsed I feel right now. “Hi, I didn’t see you,” I state, knowing I can’t cause a scene here.

“Really, you didn’t notice me despite looking directly at me?” he chuckles. “Come on, Cleo, I just wanted to talk to my sexy future bride.”

“About that,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush with anger. “I have a boyfriend, Boyd. This marriage isn’t happening.”

“Really?” he taunts, one eyebrow raised. “Because the paperwork has already been drawn up.”

“Excuse me,” I snap, irritated by his arrogance. “You don’t get a say in this, I am not marrying you. I have a chosen mate.”

My heart races as Boyd’s unwanted presence looms over me, his smirk pushes my buttons. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and find the right words.

“Boyd,” I say, attempting to keep my voice even, losing my temper right now will only worsen things. “It’s not what I want, and I don’t think it’s what’s best for either of us.”

Boyd leans in closer, his hot breath brushing against my ear as he slurs, “You know this would be good for both our packs. We’d be a power couple.” I almost scoff at his words. Power couple? At the cost of my future?

I suppress a shudder at the thought of being with him. Still, I can’t deny the truth in his words. Our packs would undoubtedly benefit from the alliance, but at what cost? The thought of sacrificing my happiness, my dreams, and my self-worth for the good of the pack feels like a suffocating weight on my chest.

“Boyd, listen,” I start again, trying to maintain eye contact despite the intoxicating scent of alcohol wafting from his breath. “I have a boyfriend, someone I care about, I can’t just throw that away for an arranged marriage.”

“Is that so?” Boyd taunts, leaning in even closer until his lips are just a whisper away from mine. “You might be surprised by what you want, Cleo.” I fight the urge to punch him in his smug face.

Forcing myself to meet Boyd’s gaze, I try to project an air of confidence I don’t entirely feel. His eyes are glazed from liquor, yet there’s still a predatory gleam in them that chills me to the bone. I wish I wasn’t here beside him.

“Come on, Cleo,” he insists, dragging out my name as if it were the punchline to some private joke. “You can’t be serious about this boyfriend of yours, he’s not even Alpha blood.” Boyd reaches out and brushes his fingers along my arm, and I fight back a shudder at the unwanted contact.

“Boyd, stop,” I say firmly, pulling away from his repulsive touch. My heart races with a mix of anxiety and anger, however I refuse to let him see how much he’s getting to me.

“My relationship is none of your business.”

“Relax,” he coos, completely ignoring my protests. “This alliance is good for both our packs. Besides, what’s not to like about having me as your mate?” His smirk is infuriating, and I clench my fists at my sides, struggling to keep my temper in check.

“Boyd, I have a boyfriend,” I repeat for the hundredth time, enunciating each word carefully. Clearly, my words are not getting through to him. “I won’t marry you.”

“Ah, so it’s true,” he muses, his grin turning even more sinister. “He must be something special if you’re willing to defy your father and risk our pack’s future for him.”

“Boyd, it doesn’t matter how many times you repeat it, the fact remains I won’t marry you.” My voice wavers slightly despite my best efforts to remain composed.

My words are cut short as Alpha Dane strides toward us, his dark eyes assess the situation with a keen interest. “Ah, Cleo, so nice to see you again,” he says smoothly, extending his hand for me to shake.

“Alpha Dane,” I reply, forcing a smile onto my face as I place my hand in his. His grip is firm and unyielding, much like his son’s determination to see this alliance through.

“I take it the function being held here is yours?” I ask, wishing I’d waited in the car for Zayn. Alpha Dane places his hand on my shoulder and nods toward the beer garden. “Yes, my youngest daughter’s shift is tonight. I suppose your father told you about the great news?” he asks me, and my eyes dart to Boyd who smirks smugly.

Before I can answer, Alpha Dane starts leading me out to the beer garden where the function is being held.

“Please, allow me to introduce you to my wife. She’s been here since this morning setting everything up. She’ll be excited to meet Boyd’s future wife.” He gestures to a woman standing beside the fountains, her delicate features and sharp eyes immediately giving away her connection to Boyd. “This is Luna Grace, Boyd’s mother.”

Alpha Dane introduces us, and she steps forward, a smile on her lips.

“Nice to meet you, Cleo,” she says warmly, though there’s something in her gaze that suggests she’s already sizing me up as a potential daughter-in-law.

With pleasantries exchanged, Alpha Dane wastes no time in diving into the topic of the alliance.

“Boyd has told me how you seemed hesitant when he mentioned it at the Council meeting… that you have hesitations regarding this marriage, but surely you understand the importance of uniting our packs?” His tone is deceptively gentle.

“Of course,” I reply, struggling to keep my anger in check. “There’s more to consider than just politics…”

“Oh, hold on dear, that’s Alpha Grayson, I’ll be right back,” he tells me, and I grit my teeth.

The outdoor area is buzzing with activity, fairy lights casting a soft glow over the various tables and guests. I reach for a glass of wine from a passing tray, eager for a drink to calm my nerves.

My patience is wearing thin, and I glance at my phone, noticing it’s already past 7 PM. Zayn should have been here by now, and have I been here that long?

“Where the heck are you?” I mutter under my breath, my fingers gripping the wineglass tighter as I steel myself for whatever might come next. Then I see Boyd stepping closer.

“Excuse me, Boyd. I need to use the restroom,” I say, my voice strained as I attempt to maintain a polite demeanor.

“Of course, Cleo,” he replies, his eyes lingering on me before returning to his drink.

As I step back inside the club, the pulsating music washes over me like an invigorating wave. Desperate for some semblance of control, I make my way to the bar and ask one of the staff members if they’ve seen Zayn.

“Alpha Zayn? He’s not here yet. There was an accident on the highway, so he’s probably stuck in traffic,” the bartender informs me.

“Damn it.” I accept another drink from the bartender as I try to calm my nerves. The idea of waiting for Zayn while dealing with Boyd is less than appealing, however it looks like I don’t have many other options.

“Here you go,” the bartender says, sliding a glass toward me. “This should help take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip in hopes it will help me keep my composure.

As I turn around, leaning against the bar and scanning the crowd, I hear Boyd’s voice cutting through the buzz of the club. My heart skips a beat, and my grip tightens around the glass. Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“Cleo, I thought you were going to the bathroom? My mother wanted to speak with you,” he says, irritation evident in his tone as he approaches.

“Boyd,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’m not avoiding you, I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Who?” he questions, eyeing me skeptically. “I know this is all a lot to take in, and my father can be kinda pushy, but we can make this work,” he continues, and my gaze darts to the bartender who’s watching us closely.

I sigh inwardly, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. “Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm about this alliance. As I’ve told you before, I can’t marry you.”

His closeness is suffocating, and I feel the urge to flee, to find solace in Zayn’s arms—even if it’s only temporary. For now, all I can do is wait hopelessly for Zayn to get here so I can leave. Drinking the rest of my wine, I turn to the lady at the bar, who hands me another glass, leaning closer.

“He’s just pulled up in the parking lot.” I sigh in relief. Finally!

“Your father seems to think otherwise,” Boyd retorts, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Boyd, I—” I start, and he interrupts me with a laugh.

“Relax, Cleo. I’m just teasing, we’ll figure it out,” he says, reaching out to trail a finger down my arm. The sensation repulses me, and I flinch away from his touch.

“Please don’t do that,” I snap, unable to maintain my composure any longer. My heart races in my chest, and I feel a wave of heat rush through me as frustration and disgust collide within me.

“Boyd, we need—” My words falter as I try to formulate a response, before I can continue, strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me away from Boyd and spinning me around. I find myself face-to-face with Zayn, his gray eyes blazing with intensity. His presence instantly transforms the atmosphere, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Hey, baby,” he purrs, his voice low and seductive. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m momentarily frozen, shocked by his sudden appearance and the way he’s acting.

Boyd’s expression shifts from irritation to horror as he takes in the scene before him. “Wait, he’s your boyfriend?” he stammers, his composure slipping.

Zayn ignores him. “Sorry, I’m late,” he murmurs, his arm tightening around my waist possessively as he pulls me closer. I stare at him like he’s grown two heads. What does he think he’s doing?

The heat of his body seeps through the fabric of my dress, igniting a fire within me I struggle to control. My face flames, knowing Boyd is watching this display. It’s the complete opposite of the shudder I feel at Boyd’s touch.

Zayn’s eyes hold mine, some unsaid message in them, when he leans closer, burying his face in my neck. He groans, his hand sliding down my back to grab my ass. My heart races, threatening to burst from my chest as Zayn takes control of the situation in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Zayn,” I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Play along,” he whispers below my ear, and I barely hear him over the loud music.

He pulls back, brushing his nose against mine gently, and then his hand grips my chin, tilting my face up to his. I can feel the heat radiating off his body and the scent of his cologne mingling with his natural addictive scent. It’s intoxicating, and I find myself unable to look away from his piercing gray eyes.

And then, without warning, his lips are on mine.

The kiss is searing, electric, like a bolt of lightning straight to my core. His tongue teases my lower lip seeking entrance, snapping out of my shock at his actions, I grant it willingly, letting myself get lost in the feel of his tongue brushing softly against mine.

When he pulls away, all I can do is stare at him.

“Does that answer your question?” Zayn asks Boyd, who looks utterly baffled.

“Y-yeah,” Boyd stammers, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I guess it does.”

“Good,” Zayn replies, his eyes never leaving mine. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

Boyd hesitates for a moment, then nods, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. The tension in the room seems to dissipate with his departure, yet my own internal turmoil only grows.

My chest tightens with a strange mix of relief and anger. I feel like a pawn in some twisted game, with Zayn and my father making moves I can’t predict.

“Zayn,” I seethe, my hands balling into fists as I shove his broad chest. “What the fuck?”

His eyes flash dangerously, a storm brewing behind those silver-gray eyes. “He won’t challenge me for you, Cleo.” There’s a bite to his voice that sends shivers down my spine. “I made an executive decision. Or if you’d like,” he adds, his lips curling into a feral grin, “I can tell him you’re ripe for the picking.”

My heart thumps, torn between fury and something else entirely – a dangerous spark of desire. It scares me how attracted I am to this unpredictable Alpha, even as his words set my blood boiling.

“Fuck you,” I spit, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my belly. “This isn’t some game you can control. This is my life!”

“Believe me, love,” Zayn murmurs, stepping closer until his body brushes against mine. The scent of his cologne threatens to overwhelm my senses, a heady blend of sandalwood and smoke. “I know exactly what’s at stake.”

“Then why would you do that?” I whisper yell, feeling the first tendrils of doubt creeping in. Zayn’s impulsive actions are going to throw me in hot water once again with my father. This will definitely get back to him.

“Because I can’t stand the thought of that prick laying claim to you,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me flush against him. My breath catches at the intimate contact, my body betraying me by arching into his touch.

“Zayn,” I breathe, struggling to maintain my anger as I push against his chest.

“Unless you want Boyd coming over and staking his claim against you, you’ll stop pushing me away, Cleo,” he growls in warning before dropping his head lower. “He’s right there. No lovers’ quarrels, you’ll make him think he stands a chance,” Zayn whispers, then grins deviously as he leans closer.

I am about to mention Deacon, when his lips swallow my words, and he groans. His fingers twist in my hair as he tilts my head back and nips at my lips with his teeth, forcing them to part. His tongue brushes mine, and I feel the sire bond kick in as a sound—a cross between a whimper and a moan—escapes me. Zayn chuckles, kissing me deeper, and my tongue brushes his as I kiss him back. Breathless, Zayn pulls away, his eyes darting behind me, but I don’t look.

“He’s gone,” he states, his lips hovering just above mine. I bite my lip, and Zayn’s hand moves from my hair, his thumb brushing my lip and pulling it from between my teeth. “You’re not married yet, Cleo. And from what I saw, you didn’t seem too keen on the idea.”

My chest heaves with the weight of my emotions, my heart pounding like a war drum. I can’t make sense of what’s happening within me, however I know I need to get away, at least for a moment.

“Zayn,” I say, my voice strained, “I need to get out of here.”

“Sure, come on, I’ll take you to view those tapes,” he replies, his eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. He leads me toward the security room, his hand on the small of my back, warm and reassuring.

My mind is racing with confusion over how the sire bond affects my feelings toward Zayn, and the uncertainty of the war I might have inadvertently started. The suspicion of Zayn’s possible sire bond gnaws at me like a relentless itch, clouding my every thought. Seeing a waiter with another tray of wine, I snatch a glass and down the contents before holding up a finger for him to wait. Right now, I need something to drown out this sire bond. I give him the wine glass back when it’s empty, and I grab another.

“Now you can go,” I tell him, and he nods, walking off while Zayn raises an eyebrow at me.

“Didn’t realize that kissing you requires a drink,” he taunts, grabbing my hand and leading me down a hall.

As we enter the security room, the tension between us is thick, the air heavy with unanswered questions. We sit next to each other, our thighs brushing together, sending jolts of electricity through my body.

“Let’s just focus on finding the footage from last night,” Zayn suggests, his voice low and slightly husky. “Maybe it’ll give us some answers.”

The security room’s dim lighting adds to the heavy atmosphere that seems to press down on me.

• • •

The soft hum of computers and the faint glow of monitors cast eerie shadows across the walls, their silhouettes distorted and ever shifting. My heart races in my chest, anxiety gnawing at my insides as I try to make sense of the chaos in my mind.

“Any luck?” Zayn asks, his voice low and controlled as he speaks with one of the security guards watching over the screens.

“Not yet, Alpha,” the staff member replies, frustration evident in his tone. “I’ve been trying to locate the footage, but it seems to have vanished.”

“Vanished?” I echo, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “How is that even possible?”

“Technical difficulties,” Zayn explains, though it sounds like a weak excuse. “These things happen sometimes. Let me try,” Zayn tells him, stepping forward and holding his hand out. The security guard rummages around on his desk, which seems to be in messy order.

“Here you go, Alpha,” a technician says, handing Zayn a tablet before stepping back to work on one of the computers and trying to pull the footage up. The whirring of processors forms a quiet hum as he retreats to his computer station, drenched in ghostly blue light. Fingers dance swiftly over keys in order to coax up missing fragments from last night’s events, his brow furrowed as he searches for the footage.

“Thanks,” Zayn replies, his tone detached. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, however I avoid looking at him, focusing instead on the screens around us. One by one, they display grainy images of the club’s various rooms and corridors, none seem to capture the moment I so desperately need to see.

“Seems like we’re having some technical difficulties with the footage,” Zayn says, handing the tablet back to the technician. “Keep looking, though.”

“I’m not a child, Zayn.”

He smirks, refusing to meet my gaze.

“I am not going home, so either drop me to a motel or I’ll sleep in my car,” I retort, and Zayn growls.

“Fine, you can stay at my place, but don’t come crying to me when you get in more trouble.”

I hesitate, considering my options. Going home was never an option tonight, however I would rather not impose on Zayn, either. The last thing he needs is more drama he didn’t ask for. Zayn hasn’t tried to hurt me, and he did save me from Boyd inside the club. I nod and he starts the car.

As we drive in silence, the city lights blur outside the window. I yawn and Zayn chuckles. “Stay awake for me, Cleo.” I nod, pressing my head against the cool glass window.

When we pull up out the front, he helps me out of the car and leads me up to his door. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.

Inside, Zayn takes off his jacket and offers me a glass of water. He moves around his kitchen, his muscles flexing under his shirt. I lean heavily on the counter, resting my head on my arms.

“Here, drink this, it will help,” Zayn says, and I lift my head, staring at him. I take the glass and sip the water, not realizing how thirsty I am. I watch Zayn over the glass.

“You’re not gonna be sick on me again, are you?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Good you’ve puked on me once, let’s not go for another round,” he teases. My face heats as I think back to Alpha Dane suggesting my virtue will be checked.

“Alpha Dane said I have to prove my virtue is intact,” I tell him.

Alpha Zayn’s eyes darken. “His pack is religious, it’s seen as a bad omen to take an ‘impure’ mate.”

I pull a face when a revelation hits me. “So if I am not a virgin, it’s a bad omen to the pack and Boyd can’t marry me?” I ask him.

Zayn seems to think for a second. He shrugs. “I guess.” he takes my empty glass, and sets it in the dishwasher. “But you’ll find a way out of this. Don’t let it bother you.” I think I just did find a way out of it?

Zayn closes the dishwasher and turns around. “Are you okay, Cleo?” he asks when he notices me staring at him. I shake the thought away, reminding myself I have a boyfriend.

“Yep, just tired,” I tell him, and he sighs.

“Come on, then,” he says, pulling me from the stool at the counter. He leads me upstairs to his room before wandering into his closet, while my heart races at the thought of spreading my legs to some stranger while they test my slick. Just the thought is horrifying, and I blink back tears. Zayn returns in a pair of gray sweats hanging low on his hips and his chest bare. My eyes roam over his tattooed, muscular body, desire pooling in my stomach.

He clears his throat. “Here, you can wear this.” He cups my cheek with his hand gently. “We’ll figure it out, just sleep. You’re safe here,” Zayn murmurs, and I nod.

“I’m going to make sure the house is locked, I’ll be back,” he tells me, leaving the room. Alone in his room, I strip my clothes off and pick up the shirt when I hear my phone notification go off.

Picking up my phone off the bed, I see another threatening message from my father. I toss my phone on the couch and pick up the shirt, my eyes going to Zayn’s bed. I stare at the shirt in my hand and bite my lip.

“Come on, Cleo, he kissed you. You could just be another notch in his belt. Rip the band-aid off or rip the virginity away and no alliance, simple,” I tell myself.

I suck in a breath, glancing at the door when my thoughts go to Deacon. He’d be furious, but fuck him, he ditched me while drunk, and is now refusing to answer my calls. With my anger slowly simmering hotter and my thoughts growing more panicked, I toss the shirt on the couch and shut the light off before slipping under the covers naked.

You can do this! He’s not that big, he’d be… what’s the word. Experienced. Beats losing it in the back of a car, right? Then I hear his footsteps, and the rhythm of my heart falls in beat with his steps.

Zayn taps on the door. “Are you decent?” he calls out. “Cleo?” he calls out again. Oh goddess, what am I doing?

I say nothing and after a few minutes, he opens the door, flicks the light on, and I pretend to be asleep. I hear him moving around the room before the lights go out, and he climbs into bed next to me. I remain frozen, stiff as a board, paralyzed by my own humiliation and panic.

“Cleo? Are you okay? Your heart is beating so fast,” he comments and sits up slightly, rolling me toward him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks again, shaking my shoulder, and I open my eyes, peeking out at him. He lets out a breath of relief.

“I called out to you, you said nothing. I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he offers, and I shake my head. His brows furrow and I know he’s about to ask me what’s wrong, but before he can, I kiss him. Unlike at the club, he freezes at the action, caught off guard, and I move to straddle him. His hands grip my hips only for them to rip me away like I burned him. He pulls his face away.

“What are you doing, Cleo?” he growls. I kiss him again, he doesn’t respond, instead freezing beneath me when his hands grip my shoulders. “Have you got clothes on?” he snarls, moving, and my eyes are assaulted by light as he flicks the lamp on. His eyes roam over my naked body, making me feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Cleo, what the fuck?” he growls as his eyes take me in straddling him naked. His eyes flicker as they roam down my body, his rejection hits me loud and clear. My face burns and my eyes prickle with warmth. I scramble to climb off him.

“Fuck, Cleo. Wait, it’s not like that,” he grumbles, grabbing my hips before I can climb off him. He rolls, and I find myself pinned beneath him on the bed.

I look away, unable to meet his gaze, and it feels like all the blood has run to my face. Zayn watches my face for a second and curses. He then groans and drops his head onto my shoulder.

“I am not taking your virginity just because you’re scared you’ll be forced to marry Boyd,” he breathes out. I swallow, nodding and feeling foolish. I suddenly want to change my mind and ask him to take me home to face my father instead.

He lifts his head, and I refuse to meet his gaze, instead staring at the lampshade like it is a work of art. Well, it kind of is with its swirling shape.

“Cleo?” Zayn growls, pinching my chin between his fingers and turning my face to look at him. His eyes soften slightly. “I’m not rejecting you; you haven’t got your wolf.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in all that crap?” I snap out of embarrassment. He presses his lips in line.

“It’s not that, fuck. You caught me off guard, you just bitched me out for kissing you at the club, and now you’re trying to…” he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’re drunk, and scared. I am not taking your virginity while you’re in this state! I, unlike some people, refuse to take advantage of you,” he whispers, lifting his head to look at me and brushing my cheek softly.

“It’s fine, Zayn. You don’t want me, it’s fine, I get it,” I tell him, pushing on his shoulders to shove him off. This is embarrassing enough, he doesn’t need to humiliate me more by lying to me now, we are both adults.

Zayn growls and grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.

“That’s not what I said,” he growls sexily, catching my lower lip between his teeth before soothing it with a languid lick.

His strong grip on my wrists sends a delicious shiver through me, anchoring my fluttering nerves and focusing all my attention on him. I gasp as his hips grind against mine, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against me even through the barrier of his pants. My heart stutters erratically at the intimate contact, my body instinctively responding to his with a wanton yearning that takes me by surprise.

“Does that feel like I don’t want you?” he purrs, his voice low and rough, sending a tremor of desire rippling through my veins. I swallow hard, my eyes snapping to his. The heat in Zayn’s gaze is palpable; it sears into me, igniting a wildfire of longing deep within. I squirm beneath him, unconsciously seeking more friction against the throbbing ache between my legs.

Zayn releases one of my hands, only to slide it down to cup my breast beneath. His touch sends electricity zinging through my veins, drawing an involuntary moan from me. He tweaks my nipple, earning another whimpered cry of pleasure from me. The sensation spurs me on… liquid heat pools between my thighs, soaking into the fabric of his pants, and he groans, his hand trailing down my side, but his steely gaze finds mine.

A whimper escapes me as he tweaks my nipple again—challenging the very limits of my self-control. This sensation amplifies everything around me—the soft rustle of his clothes, the sheets beneath me and the intoxicating scent of Zayn himself. It is all too much and not nearly enough simultaneously.

His hand leaves a trail of tingling warmth down my side as he traces every curve with calloused fingers before stopping at the apex of my thighs. A bolt of electricity zaps through me at the contact, as I arch upward, unconsciously seeking more.

“I never claimed I didn’t want you—far from it. Just not while you’re rattled and terrified, and certainly not when you’re drunk.” His words come out as a low rumble, his gaze hungrily tracing the contours of my lips. His tongue makes a pass over his own lips, causing my eyes to follow the motion in heated anticipation. The desire for his mouth meeting mine is evident. Zayn, seeming to read my thoughts, smirks before capturing my lips.

His tongue caresses the line of my mouth deliberately, coaxing them apart in an act of surrender to him. His tongue delves between my lips, tasting every inch of my mouth, devouring me. I kiss him back with equal intensity, desire burning through me.

When he finally pulls away, I’m left gasping, breathless.

“But not like this,” he murmurs slowly, each word heavy with unfulfilled promise. “Wait until you’re sober-minded and equipped to make decisions,” he tells me, gently pressing his lips against mine before rolling off me.