My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 349

Chapter 349: Chapter 349 LOSE CONTROL

KIERAN’S POV

The moment Sera’s mouth crashed into mine, I stopped breathing.

There was no hesitation, no softness, no careful restraint like the night in the mountains.

She twisted a fist in my shirt and shoved me harder into the wall, the impact rattling the picture frame behind my shoulders.

Her teeth caught my lower lip, and I tasted copper and heat and fury.

I gripped her waist instinctively, fingers digging in enough to feel the rapid rhythm of her breathing and the tremor she couldn’t quite suppress.

“Sera—”

She deepened the kiss, silencing me, forcing my mouth open, setting the air between us alight with something chosen and real, not staged and manipulated.

Her body pressed flush against mine, and I slid my hands from her waist to her hips, anchoring her in place.

Her breath fanned across my cheek as she broke the kiss just long enough to speak.

“I’m furious,” she admitted, voice low and rough.

A well of guilt rose in me. “I know. I’m sorry—”

“Not at you,” she hissed, pulling back slightly. “I need you to know that when I walked into that room, what I felt wasn’t doubt or fear.”

I lifted my hand slowly, carefully, as though she might bolt, and brushed my thumb along her jaw.

“And what did you feel?” I asked.

She met my eyes without flinching. Her fingers tightened in my shirt.

“Rage,” she said. “Because someone was touching what’s mine.”

The words detonated inside me.

Mine.

Ashar surged forward, a low, possessive growl rumbling through my chest before I could contain it.

Sera didn’t recoil.

Her eyes smoldered.

“Oh,” she whispered. “There you are.”

Then she kissed me again.

This time, I answered with everything I’d been holding back since that door had burst open and her scent had cut through the artificial sweetness of that suite.

Guilt lingered at the image of her in the doorway, seeing me hold another woman.

Even knowing it had been a trap, even knowing I’d done nothing wrong, the hurt in her eyes cut deep.

But under the guilt was something far more dangerous—a climax of hunger that had been building in me from the moment I recognized her as my mate.

Her hands slid down my chest deliberately, claiming, and then she pulled me away from the wall, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the house.

“Bedroom,” she commanded.

Every Alpha instinct that demanded to be the most authoritative figure in the room took a backseat, and I let her pull me up the stairs.

As we went, my mind flickered with the memory of the cabin, of how carefully I had held myself back, how deliberately I had slowed my instincts so she would never feel pressured.

Tonight, she was the one pushing.

Literally.

She shoved me backward onto the edge of the bed. I landed with a muted bounce, the mattress shifting beneath me as she stood between my knees.

She looked incandescent.

Her hair spilled down her shoulders, the butterfly clip having been discarded somewhere in the hall, and her eyes blazed like blue fire.

As I sat there beholding her, something shuddered through me.

Relief wasn’t the right word.

It was something heavier. Deeper. A bone-deep understanding that whatever game Vidar thought he had set into motion had failed the second she chose to walk toward me instead of away.

Her hands gripped the open collar of my shirt and shoved it off my shoulders, buttons straining before giving way under her impatient fingers.

I caught her wrists gently.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” I said quietly. “I’m yours, Sera. Wholeheartedly.”

Her lips curved, but there was no softness in her smile.

“I’m not proving,” she said. “I’m claiming.”

The word ignited something primal.

Ashar surged again, pressing against my ribs, against my control, against the fragile restraint I had spent weeks perfecting.

Sera’s fingers traced my chest with deliberate slowness, as though memorizing the feel of my skin.

“You were so controlled in that room,” she murmured. “Even with the aphrodisiac in the air.”

“I had to be,” I gritted out.

She nodded.

“You always think you have to be.”

Her hands flattened against my torso, sliding lower, her touch no longer impatient but exploratory. Possessive.

My breathing deepened.

She leaned down and kissed the side of my throat. Her teeth grazed just below my jaw, drawing a growl from deep in my chest.

Her fingers tightened in my belt.

“I don’t want you controlled around me anymore,” she whispered.

“Sera,” I groaned.

“It’s okay,” she cooed, the sound of clanging metal echoing through the room as she slid my belt out of the loops.

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