Chapter 21: The Burning Desire That Burns Between Us

Morning light crept through Hope's half-open curtains, filtering into the room in golden rays that danced across the weathered wooden walls of the Salvatore School. Ethan woke slowly, his eyes still heavy from sleep, the echo of his dream about the wild wolf whispering in his mind like a distant wind. But the warmth of Hope's body beside him kept him grounded, driving away the shadows. She slept soundly, curled against him, her serene face pressed against his chest, her brown hair spread across the pillow like an autumn river catching the first rays of the sun. He took a deep breath, her scent—a mix of lavender and something indefinably her—filling his senses and soothing the restless hum in his bones.

His heterochromic eyes—one sharp green like a midnight forest, the other icy blue like a winter sky—ran over her face, tracing every detail: her delicate eyebrows, the almost invisible freckles dotting her nose, her parted lips that released soft breaths. A warmth rose in his chest, something primal and tender at the same time, and he couldn't resist. He slid an arm around her, pulling her closer, her body molding to his as if they belonged together. "You're dangerous to me, you know that?" he murmured, his voice husky still filled with sleep, but with a tone that was all hers.

Hope shifted more, a low moan escaping her as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. Ethan beamed, that crooked smile he reserved for just these moments, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead in a light, almost reverent kiss. But the wolf inside him—always hungry, always demanding—wasn't content with that. He moved lower, capturing her lips in a firmer, deeper kiss, the taste of her waking every nerve in his body. Hope responded instantly, even half asleep, her hands instinctively rising to his neck, her fingers tangling in the messy hair at the nape of his neck.

"Good morning to you, too," she murmured against his lips, her voice groggy but holding a smile he could feel. She opened her eyes slowly, the deep blue meeting his, and for a moment the world outside ceased to exist—it was just them, the heat of their bodies entwined, the silent pulse of the Imprint connecting them.

Ethan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in his chest as he held her tighter, almost possessively. "Think you can sleep all day, princess?" He slid his fingers down her face, tracing the contours of her cheekbone to her nose, where he gave it a playful flick. "Or are you waiting for me to carry you to the lake to wake you up for good?"

Hope grumbled, her nose wrinkling in a way that made his heart race. "You wouldn't dare," she snapped, sitting up slowly, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She rubbed her eyes, trying to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. "And here I thought wolves were more serious in the morning."

"This wolf here prefers to hunt smiles," he replied, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes glowing fluorescent green for a second before returning to normal. He reached out, purposely ruffling her hair, only to have her huff and throw a pillow at him. The pillow hit his chest with a soft thud, and he fell back onto the bed, laughing loudly, the tension of his dream evaporating like mist in the sun.

She laughed along, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous, Ethan Nichols."

"And you like it," he shot back, sitting up and pulling her into another quick kiss, stealing her breath before she could protest. Hope pushed at his chest with a chuckle, slipping out of his embrace to stand, but the gleam in her eyes said she didn't want to be anywhere else.

Before you could continue your banter, a sharp chirp cut through the air, coming from the intercom on the wall. Alaric's voice broke through, dry and sharp: "All students, in the main hall in ten minutes. No delays." The device clicked off, and the silence that followed felt heavy, laden with something neither of them could name yet.

Ethan exchanged a look with Hope, brows furrowed. "That doesn't look good," he said, standing and picking up the black jacket that had been tossed on the chair, his movements fluid but alert.

Hope nodded, sliding out of bed and smoothing her hair with her hands. "Alaric doesn't call everyone that for no reason. Come on." She grabbed a gray coat, throwing it over her shoulders, and the two of them left the room, walking down the dorm stairs at a brisk pace, the hallway already starting to fill with murmuring students.

The main hall was crowded, the stone walls echoing with the hum of voices—vampires standing confidently, witches exchanging curious glances, werewolves fidgeting in the corners. Ethan stood near the door, arms crossed, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head as he scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes. Hope stood beside him, her shoulder brushing his in a gesture that was both casual and comforting. Exactly ten minutes after the call, Alaric entered, heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor. He stepped onto the makeshift stage, Emma at his side, her face calm but intent, and the silence fell like a curtain.

"I know you're curious," Alaric began, his deep voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Given recent events, some feel they have no say in the decisions of this school. I agree. So I'm forming an honor council—a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf, elected by you. Emma represents the younger generation. Appointments today, elections tomorrow. Think carefully."

He stepped off the stage, and the room erupted in murmurs. Ethan snorted softly, leaning toward Hope. "Rules and elections. Not really my style."

She gave him a half smile, her eyes twinkling with a hint of teasing. "Maybe not. But you'd be good at it, you know? People respect you." Before he could retort, Alaric had pushed through the crowd toward her. "You, with me," he said firmly, and gestured for her to follow him to a more secluded corner near a high window.

Ethan stood where he was, his instincts on alert, watching the two of them from afar as the other students began to disperse. Alaric crossed his arms, his face set in worry lines. "Hope, I need you to do something for me," he said, lowering his voice. "I want you to run tests on Landon."

Hope blinked, startled, and opened her mouth to protest. "Tests? Alaric, I—"

"It's for his own good," he cut in, his tone serious but not hostile. "He's your friend, right? If he's going to stay at this school, I need to know if he's supernatural. He resisted MG's compulsion, and that's not normal for a human. While I'm off dealing with a 'trapped' dryad near Mystic Falls, you run the genetic tests on him."

Hope hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she processed the words. "And why me?"

"Because I trust you," Alaric replied, simple and direct. "And you have the knowledge to do so. I need answers, Hope."

She sighed, reluctantly agreeing. "Fine. I'll do it."

Alaric gave a curt nod before turning and leaving the room. Hope turned back to Ethan, the weight of the task visible on her shoulders. "He wants me to test Landon," she said, her tone heavy.

"Want me to come with you?" Ethan said, tilting his head, his eyes fixed on hers.

"No," she replied, firm but with a gentle touch. "I'll handle it myself."

Ethan shrugged, a half-smile appearing. "Fine by me." He didn't say it out loud, but the truth was that he liked something—he and Landon had gotten into a huge fight a day and a half ago, a heated exchange of punches and harsh words by the lake over some stupid argument about Rafael. The last thing I wanted right now was to be anywhere near the kid. "See you later, then."

Hope nodded, heading out toward the school's makeshift lab. Ethan stood there for a moment, the room emptying around him, the voices of the other students echoing like a distant hum. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his body still tense from sleep and the fight in his mind. He decided you needed a hot shower and something to eat—simple things to clear your head.

He walked back to his dorm, the hallway now silent, and stepped into the shared bathroom. The hot water cascaded over him, soothing his stiff muscles, steam curling upward as he closed his eyes, letting the heat wash away the weight of his sleep and his restless morning. He stood there longer than he needed to, his mind wandering to Hope—the way she laughed, the fire in her eyes, the heat of her body against his. He emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping wet as he pulled on a clean gray T-shirt and black jacket, the usual uniform that made him feel like himself.

He walked down to the cafeteria, the smell of bacon and coffee filling the air. He grabbed a plateful—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon strips, a pile of toast—and sat down at an empty table near the window. He devoured it all in a few minutes, his inner wolf purring with satisfaction as he cleaned his plate with a final bite of toast. The cafeteria was nearly empty, just a few younger students chatting in low voices, and he welcomed the quiet—a rare moment of peace before the day exploded into chaos.

But the peace didn't last. He felt that restlessness again, the buzzing in his being that called for movement, freedom. He decided he needed air, for speed. There were two things he loved more than anything at that moment: riding his black motorcycle, the roar of the engine echoing in his ears as the wind cut around him, and holding Hope in his arms, kissing her until the world disappeared, the taste of her erasing everything else. It was incredible what this girl did to him—a mix of wildness and calm he'd never felt before. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he walked to the parking lot where his bike rested, leaning against a tree like a decorated beast.

He climbed in, the leather of the seat cool against his legs, and turned the key and stamped his feet. The engine coughed, sputtered, and died. "Damn," he muttered, frowning. He climbed out and checked—gasoline was dripping onto the floor in a slow leak, and when he removed the spark plug with a pocket wrench, he saw that it was worn and caked with soot. He snorted, running a hand through his hair. "Time for a tune-up, huh?" He hadn't touched the bike in weeks, too busy with Hope and wolf practice and school troubles. Now it was taking its toll on his neglect.

Wasting no time, he decided to head to Mystic Falls. He slung an old backpack over his shoulder and walked down the dirt road that led into town, the sun rising higher in the sky, the cool morning air clearing his mind. He walked past the tall trees that surrounded the campus, the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves accompanying his long strides. When he reached town, he ducked into an auto parts store on the main street, the smell of oil and metal filling the air. He bought a new spark plug, a hose for the leak, a small can of gas, and a few basic tools—a wrench, a screwdriver, things he could carry. The salesman, an older guy with a gray beard, gave him a curt nod and a "good luck" as he paid him with crumpled cash from his pocket.

He walked back to school with the bag of parts swaying over his shoulder, sweat beginning to form on his forehead as the sun beat down. When he reached the parking lot, he saw Hope and Landon standing in a corner a little ways from the playground, near a pile of cut logs. Landon was sweating, his T-shirt sticking to his body as he tried to lift a thick log, his muscles shaking with the effort. Hope stood nearby, arms crossed, her face intent as she muttered something—probably instructions or mental notes. Strength tests, Ethan thought with a shrug. She must be checking to see if the kid had something supernatural hidden away, some power that explained why he wasn't just an ordinary human. He didn't care—Landon could lift the whole world and he wouldn't give a damn now, not after that stupid fight.

He tore his eyes away from them and crouched down beside the bike, spreading the parts out on the gravel. He changed the spark plug first, his nimble fingers turning the wrench as the cold metal bit into his skin. Then he fixed the leak, cutting the old hose with a pocketknife and fitting the new one, the acrid smell of gasoline rising as he fitted everything into place. It was almost therapeutic—the sound of bolts being tightened, the click of parts falling into place, the control he had over something amidst the chaos of school life. He filled the tank with the new can, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stood up to test it out. He had to tinker with other things too, but nothing too complicated for someone who had spent practically his whole life tinkering with motorcycles and cars—as a hobby, to be more precise.

Across the yard, Hope saw movement. Her blue eyes found Ethan, and for a second she was lost—the messy hair falling over his forehead, the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he worked on the bike, the quiet concentration that seemed so much like him. She wondered if the bike had broken, but her thoughts drifted to something deeper—the way he made her laugh, the warmth of his embrace that morning, the fire that had burned between them. The world around her faded, the sound of Landon's voice a distant hum.

Landon dropped the log with a grunt, the thud echoing across the yard as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Hope, I—hey, are you listening?" He frowned, noticing her gaze fixed on Ethan. "Earth to Hope?" Nothing. He took a step closer, dropping his hand in front of her face. "Earth to Hope!"

She blinked out of her trance, her face flushing progressively as she turned her eyes back to him. "What? I'm sorry, what is it?"

Landon laughed, confused, scratching the back of his neck. "You were on another planet. Are you okay there?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's keep going. Try again." But as Landon bent down to pick up the log again, she spared one last glance at Ethan, who was now turning the key to the bike. The engine purred to life, a low growl that made a satisfied smile curve his lips. He hid his eyes, meeting hers for a moment, and the air between them seemed to crackle—a silent reminder of what drew them together, even with the entire yard between them. Hope bit her lower lip, a mischievous look shining in her eyes as she thought of his body—the strength in those arms, the heat that emanated from him when he held her, the things he brought out in her that she hadn't even known existed. A shiver ran down her spine, and she had to force herself to look away before she lost herself again.

At night, the Salvatore School campus was shrouded in silence, the starry sky stretching like a blanket over the dark trees. Ethan couldn't sit still—the day had been long, full of thoughts swirling in his head, and the only thing he wanted right now was Hope. He walked through the hallways of the dorm, his boots clicking softly on the hardwood floor, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and raw need. He reached her door and knocked twice, softly enough not to wake anyone else. When she opened it, pulling on a loose T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder and pajama pants that hugged her legs, his breath caught in his throat. She was a fire, and he was ready to burn.

"Hey," he murmured, his husky voice dropping to an almost feral tone as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a shove of his heel. Before she could say anything, he had her pinned against him, his arms wrapping around her in a possessive embrace, his fingers digging into her back as he pressed her against his chest. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry, savage kiss, his teeth grazing her lower lip as his hands slid lower, gripping her ass tightly. He spread her open, his fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric, pulling her even tighter against him, their hips colliding as the heat between them exploded. Ethan wasn't thinking straight—the wolf inside him roared, and all he wanted was to devour her, consume her whole, feel every inch of her against him until there was nothing left but that fire.

Hope responded with the same intensity, her arms going up to his neck, her nails raking the back of his neck as she gave in to the kiss, their bodies so close she could feel the heat of him burning through her shirt. His hands tightened, gently lifting her against the door, and she let out a low moan against his mouth, the sound stoking the desire pulsing through her veins even more. He growled in response, a guttural sound that vibrated in his chest as he slid his tongue against hers, their make-out becoming a feverish dance of hands and lips and panting breaths. He wanted her—no, necessarily her—and in that moment, there was nothing else but the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her writhing against him.

But then, in the midst of the whirlwind, Hope froze. A rush of heat washed over her, and she felt a warm, unexpected wetness between her legs, a response so intense it made her freeze. Her body stiffened, her face flushing violently as she pulled away, pushing at his chest with shaking hands. "Ethan, wait," she said, her voice hoarse and broken, barely above a whisper. "You… you have to go."

Ethan stopped, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and glowing a fluorescent green as confusion washed over him. "What? Hope, what is it?" He was still dazed, his mind clouded with desire, his hands clasped where she'd been seconds before. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's not that," she said quickly, turning to the side, her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to contain herself. A blush crept up her neck, her eyes avoiding his. "Just... please, go. I need a minute."

He hesitated, instinct screaming to stay, to pull her back and understand what the hell had happened. The heat still pulsed in his blood, the wolf inside growling in frustration, but her tone—fragile, almost pleading—made him back away. "Fine," he murmured, his husky voice thick with uncertainty as he rubbed the back of his neck. "If you say so." He stepped back, opening the door with a slow movement, but not without taking one last look at her. Her heterochromic eyes gleamed with confusion and something deeper—he didn't understand. The fire between them was there, hotter than ever, but something to push back. He stepped out, closing the door softly behind him, and stood in the hallway for a moment, chest tight as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to decipher what he had just closed.

On the other side of the door, Hope leaned against the wood, her heart racing, her hands covering her face as a blush burned her cheeks. "Damn," she whispered to herself, her body still shaking with the intensity of what she'd felt—the raw desire he'd brought to her, the wetness that had betrayed her, the loss of control that had scared her. She'd almost given herself to Ethan right then and there, surrendering completely to the fire he'd lit inside her. It had been so… fast. Too fast. She'd felt arousal before, sure—fleeting moments, vague thoughts that came and went like shadows—but never on this level. This was crazy, a storm that was swallowing her whole, and things were escalating so fast she could barely wrap her head around it. Her body was still humming, the heat between her legs a living testament to how much he affected her, and she pressed her thighs together, breathing deeply as she tried to compose herself. It was him—always him—and what he was doing to her was new territory, wild and terrifying.