Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 261

261 Under Briarwood Lights

Lev’s POV

The day of the dinner finally arrived. I stood before the mirror, fingers working the last button on my black shirt with deliberate slowness. The fabric clung just right, outlining the hard lines of my chest without screaming for attention. Dark trousers next, tailored to move with me, not against. The jacket hung over the chair, waiting. I wasn’t dressing to beg for approval from the Briarwoods or their ilk.

Power

didn’t need embellishment; it simply was. And tonight, I needed every edge of control I could claim.

The room felt heavier than usual, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and something softer, more invasive, her. Arya. She’d slipped in earlier under the pretense of borrowing a space to change, but we both knew it was more than that. The screen in the corner shielded her from direct view, but sounds carried: the rustle of fabric, the soft pad of her feet on the rug. My wolf stirred beneath my skin restless, urging me to close the distance. I ignored it. For now.

I adjusted my cufflinks, silver glinting coldly, and caught my reflection. Eyes sharp, jaw set. Good. No cracks. The dinner loomed like a storm cloud, conversations laced with expectation, eyes probing for weakness, all aimed at steering me toward alliances I had no interest in. But here, in this pocket of privacy, the world outside faded. Until she emerged.

The screen shifted, and there she was. Arya stepped out in the cream gown, the fabric hugging her curves like a second skin, pale against her skin, whispering promises it couldn’t keep. For a heartbeat, the room narrowed to her alone, the way the neckline dipped just low enough to tease the swell of her breasts, the slit up the side revealing a flash of thigh with each step. My breath caught, unbidden, and I

forgot the mirror, the jacket, the entire damn evening.

She met my gaze, unflinching, but there was a flicker in her eyes, challenge, maybe, or invitation. Her hair fell in loose waves, framing her face, and that faint mark on her neck caught the light, a shadow

from a past that still gnawed at me. Not because it diminished her, but because it screamed of the

fool who’d let her slip away, blind to the fire she carried. Anger coiled low in my gut, mixing with the

heat building elsewhere.

“You look… composed,” she said, her voice smooth, but I caught the undercurrent, the way it dipped like she was testing waters.

I turned fully toward her, leaning against the edge of the dresser. “And you look like trouble wrapped in silk.” My eyes traced her slowly, from the elegant line of her collarbone down to where the gown skimmed her hips. She didn’t flinch, but her pulse jumped at her throat. Good. I wanted her aware.

She crossed the room to the vanity, picking up a brush, but her movements were too deliberate, too aware of me watching. The air between us hummed, charged like the moments before a storm breaks.

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I pushed off the dresser, closing half the distance without touching. Close enough to feel the warmy h

radiating from her, to catch the subtle floral notes of her skin mingling with mine.

“That green one suited you,” I murmured, voice low, letting it brush against her ear as I stopped just behind her. She paused mid-stroke with the brush, her reflection showing the slight parting of her lips.

“But this… this is a weapon. They’ll all stare, wondering what you’re hiding beneath.”

Her eyes met mine in the mirror, dark and steady. “And what do you think I’m hiding, Lev?”

The question hung there, bold. I reached out, not quite touching, my fingers ghosting along the edge of the vanity near her hand. “Enough to make a man forget his manners.” I let my gaze drop again, lingering on the way the fabric stretched taut over her ass as she shifted her weight. She knew I was looking; her body responded with a subtle arch, testing me.

I stepped closer, my chest nearly brushing her back. The heat of her seeped through the thin material, and my wolf growled softly inside, demanding more. But control. Always control. I leaned in, lips hovering near the curve of her shoulder, breath warm against her skin. “Tell me, Arya, do you wear this

to torment me? Or is it for them?”

She set the brush down with a soft click, turning her head just enough that her hair grazed my jaw. “Maybe I wear it to remind you what you can’t have tonight.”

A low chuckle escaped me, rougher than intended. Her words were a spark to dry tinder. I lifted a hand, trailing my knuckles lightly down the exposed skin of her arm, from shoulder to elbow, feeling the goosebumps rise in their wake. She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned back fractionally, her body pressing against mine in a way that sent a jolt straight to my core, My cock twitched, hardening against the confines of my trousers, but I kept my hips angled away. Tease. Only tease.

“Can’t have?” I echoed, my voice a rumble near her ear. My fingers continued their path, circling her wrist now, thumb pressing gently into the pulse point there. It raced under my touch, betraying her calm facade. “That’s a dangerous game, little wolf. Especially when the whole house is waiting to pull

us apart.”

She twisted slightly in my grasp, not breaking contact, her free hand coming up to rest on my forearm. Her nails dug in just enough to sting, a silent demand. Our eyes locked in the mirror again, and the air thickened, heavy with unspoken wants. I could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her chest rose and fell a touch quicker. Keeping her on her toes, that’s what this was. Making her feel the pull

without giving in.

I released her wrist only to slide my hand up her arm again, slower this time, stopping at the nape of her neck. My fingers threaded into her hair, not pulling, just holding, tilting her head back an inch to expose more of that tempting throat. “What if I decided I didn’t care about the dinner? What if I locked the door and spent the night unraveling you, inch by inch?”

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Her breath hitched, a soft sound that made my blood roar. She pressed back harder, her ass nestling against my thigh, close but not quite where she wanted. “You wouldn’t. You’re too controlled for that Too… proper.”

The word ‘proper’ dripped with mockery, and it ignited something primal. I spun her to face me in one fluid motion, my hands on her hips, pinning her against the vanity without crushing. Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing in defiance. Up close, her scent overwhelmed, warm, intoxicating, pulling at every instinct. I lowered my head, nose brushing the shell of her ear. “Proper? Is that what you think?”

My lips grazed her lobe, not a kiss, just the barest pressure, enough to make her shiver. She gripped my shirt, fingers curling into the fabric over my chest, and I felt the heat of her palms through it. I shifted my weight, letting one thigh slip between hers, pressing just enough to part them slightly/the gown’s slit allowing the intimate friction without more. Her body responded instantly, a subtle rock

against me, seeking.

But I held back, my hands firm on her hips, controlling the pace. “Feel that?” I whispered, my mouth trailing down to her jaw, breath hot against her skin. “That’s me holding back. Imagining how you’d gasp if I slid this gown up your thighs, exposed that sweet pussy to the air. How wet you’d be already, aching for my fingers.”

She made a small noise, half protest, half plea, her nails scraping lightly over my collarbone. Her eyes fluttered, but she forced them open, meeting my stare with fire. “You’re all talk, Lev. Teasing me when you know we can’t,”

I cut her off by capturing her mouth, not a full kiss, but a brush of lips, teasing, withdrawing before she could deepen it. “Can’t? Or won’t let myself?” My hand moved to her lower back, pulling her flush against me now, letting her feel the hard length of my erection pressing into her belly through our clothes. She gasped into my mouth, her body arching instinctively.

I pulled back just enough to watch her face, the way her lips parted, swollen and begging. “See? You want it. Want me to drop to my knees, push this fabric aside, and lick you until you’re trembling. But not yet. Tonight, you stand beside me in that party, feeling this ache, knowing I put it there.”

Her hands slid up to my neck, pulling me closer, but I resisted, nipping at her lower lip instead, sharp, possessive, then soothing with my tongue’s tip. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating between us, and I nearly lost it. My wolf clawed at the edges, but I reined it in, focusing on her reactions: the way her thighs clenched around mine, the rapid flutter of her breath.

I trailed my mouth down her neck, lips hovering over that faint mark, my teeth grazing without biting. “This,” I murmured against her skin, “reminds me why I won’t rush. You’re mine to savor, Arya. Slowly.

Until you’re begging.”

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