Chapter 7

Rath.

"She drank the syrup. She's waiting in your room," Billie said, her voice carrying the enthusiasm of someone who'd just successfully orchestrated a very awkward moment.

I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of her being in my space. The only woman who had ever been in my room was Billie—the housekeeper. Casual encounters? Yeah, those went to hotels. My room was sacred.

I took a shower in the guest room, wrapping a towel around my waist like some sort of Greek god fresh out of a bath, and made my way to my room. As I opened the door, I was immediately struck by the sight of her. She stood by the window, bathed in moonlight like some kind of celestial being, looking so ethereal that I half-expected her to sprout wings and fly off.

When she turned to face me, her eyes went straight to the towel. There was a pause. Her eyes widened, and I swear I could almost hear her brain doing a double-take. Admiration?What was she doing, judging the towel's quality?

In her hand was a hairbrush, which she offered me like some kind of royal decree, signaling that it was my duty to brush her hair. As I took it, our fingers brushed, and—no kidding—there was a spark. It wasn't just an awkward static shock either; it was a real spark. As if something had suddenly flared up between us.

But let's be clear here—I could never love a human. I despised humans. But that didn't mean I wouldn't engage in a little forbidden tango with one, right?

I took a moment to appreciate her figure—because, wow, she was rocking it. Curves, double Ds, hips that could make an artist break into song—honestly, it was hard not to notice.

I also noticed something else. She looked like an anime character with huge melons, which—now that I thought about it—kind of made her seem like she was out of a cartoon. Her eyes were huge and expressive, like she could blink at me dramatically and make me question my life choices. Then, out of nowhere, she started mimicking goggles with her hands and curtsied.

"What does that mean?" I asked, genuinely confused but also impressed by her creativity.

She repeated the gesture, and after a few seconds, it clicked. Wait a minute. Was she talking about the housekeeper?

"You're referring to the housekeeper?" I asked, trying to get this very complicated communication down.

She nodded, like yes, this is what I meant all along, duh.

"What about her?" I pressed, because the curiosity was killing me.

She shook her head. Now I was completely lost. Marrying a deaf-mute girl was one thing; navigating through this quirky silent language of hers was a whole other level of mystery. How were we supposed to have int.imate moments? How would I even know if she was into me? Did she want to have a romantic night in... or was she just getting her hair brushed?

"Did you want to know her name?" I asked, trying to give her some clarity in this fog of confusion.

Her eager nod made me chuckle—she was like a kid in a candy store.

"I wouldn't call her the maid with glasses. Trust me, you don't want her to take those off. She'll help you with whatever you need. Her name's Billie," I explained. Billie was more than just a butler; she was... well, Billie.

Dahlia turned around and signaled that she wanted me to brush her hair. Okay, fine, I'd oblige. I stepped closer, hoping that brushing her hair wouldn't turn into a dramatic love scene.

Her scent surrounded me, and my self-control was really being put to the test. Her dark, silky hair slipped through my fingers like liquid. Every stroke of the brush seemed to charge the air around us, and it wasn't long before I could feel the heat between us, a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air.

She didn't pull away. Her breathing became shallow, almost like she was just as unsure as I was about what this was. And the worst part? I still couldn't read her thoughts. What was she hiding? What secrets did she have under that anime-style gaze?

As I set the brush aside, my hand drifted down her back. She shivered at my touch, and I couldn't help but notice that she didn't pull away.

I continued to run my fingers through her soft black hair, losing myself in its silky texture. It was fulfilling—soothing, like I had just unlocked the secret to relaxation... or being in a soap opera. Either way, I was done for.

She turned to face me, her gaze locking with mine. In that instant, something inside me shifted. She spread her hands, perhaps inviting me to undress her. I ripped the fabric away and tossed it aside. I gathered her into my arms and laid her gently on the bed.

********

Dahlia.

I felt a wave of anxiety about how the night would unfold. I had never been in this situation before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. It could either be excruciatingly painful or surprisingly enjoyable for me.

Given the way my husband was glaring at me, it was clear he intended to be anything but gentle. His body was incredibly sexy—every inch sculpted with pure muscle, not an ounce of fat to be found. I counted his eight-pack abs, their definition unmistakable, and his pelvic bones jutted out, leading to the one thing that made me feel both excited and apprehensive about what was about to happen.

He stepped into the bathroom and returned with a tube filled with a gel-like liquid.

I lay in bed naked, wondering if this was a good idea. He was sort of terrifying. He covered us both with a comforter as he lay on top of me. I looked to the side, hoping that it would be over and done with soon. This is so awkward even though we are married. This will be my first time with a demi-human. His eyes low-key had a soft golden glow.

He threw the towel from the comforter. He has his reasons for not allowing me to see his naked body.

He poured the gel on his hand and smeared it on my cookie. It felt cold, making me stiffen a little.

The gel had a vanilla scent, glaring at it on the side of the bed. It was a lube; I guess it's used to make me slippery so I don't feel pain.

He considered me. I was taken aback. He could have just penetrated me without it since I'm just the human girl he hated to marry.

He turned my head to face him. I could only stare and wait to feel whatever came.

His eyes never left mine as he pushed a strand of my hair away from my face and tugged it behind my ear. His left hand vanished into the comforter. And I felt a ballpoint of warmth at my cookie. It made me shiver a little.

My heart began to race. It felt bigger than I anticipated. Is that why he didn't want me to see it?

He pushed forward, and an excruciating pain left me in tears. With my hands, I pushed his chest away from me.

"It's just the tip and you are already being a drama queen?"

That's just the tip! How big is he?

I shook my head from side to side. It's painful. I hate it already. Why did I agree to this?

He pinned both of my hands on the sides of my head.

He pushed some more. I couldn't scre.am, no words came from my mouth, and tears covered my eyes.

"Fuck! You are so tight! " His lips moved.

I couldn't wiggle myself out of this. I can't blame him. After all, I'm the one that asked him to do this.

He turned my head to look into his eyes.

"Bite my tongue and I'll cut your throat." He warned, before I could register what he meant, his lips crushed on mine. His tongue locked with mine. A poisonous k!ss to me made me forget that I was crying as my cookie was getting stretched by his massive rod.

He thrust once again. The pain was unfathomable, but his

k!ss was like the pain reliever I needed. Another big thrust that made my entire body shiver like I was stuck by an electric volt.

My toes curled as the pain flashed all over my body. He didn't move; he was still. Fondling my tongue to his like he was torturing me to want more of him. He wasn't playing fair.

He broke off from the k!ss and stared at me. He drove out of me. It felt as if he took out something so long and hard, which he did.

He went to the bathroom as I lay in bed, covering myself. I felt so odd. Like that was it? That's sex? I got down from the bed, covering myself with the towel he had come with.

He emerged from the bathroom clad in dark briefs, scissors in hand. I felt a twinge of fear at this moment. I would miss my long hair; it had always been a source of pride for me. My husband may have a tendency to cut it too much, and I was worried about that.

He motioned for me to step closer. I halted in front of him and turned around, allowing him to brush my hair one last time.

I closed my eyes as I felt him gently tugging at my hair, loosening a few strands in the process.

When I opened my eyes and touched my hair, I was surprised to find it still past my shoulders. He had given it a blunt cut that was neither too short nor too long. It was the perfect length for rocking some beach waves. I couldn't wait to dye it any color I wanted now that I was no longer a v!rgi!n.

My cookie was still stinging from the pen. Walking straight would be a little tough for tonight. My first was pa!nful and utterly plain.

At least it was with a handsome guy, my husband— so I guess it's a win.

He carefully packed the cut hair into a bag, and I turned to look at him.

"Now get out of my room," he said firmly. I complied, making my way out, my legs feeling heavier than ever. It felt as if I had a log wedged between my thighs.

Once I returned to my room, it felt like I lay in bed for an eternity. Why was it hu.rting so much? The fact that he was a werewolf and I was just a human might explain it.

I touched my lips, remembering the k!ss we ha

d shared—my very first k!ss. A wave of heat coursed through me as I recalled that moment. I couldn't help but smirk as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror.