Artemis continued her fussing as Wrath carried her out of the office and into the furthest unoccupied room.
Her fists claimed the back of his shirt which she tugged at rebelliously. “Please, don’t!” she made sure to sob once a bystander passed them. Her theatrics were praised by Raiden’s heavy hand when it fell on her right cheek which was perked up in the air.
She felt the similar sting ring through her and wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“Please stop!” she despaired. Having her blood rushing to her head and his shoulder digging into her gut helped her sound shaken. Anyone watching their interaction would predict the worst.
When he burst into the room, he took a second to lock the door before sliding her off his shoulder. Artemis took a step back and stroked her abused cheek. “Did you have to hit me so hard?” she snarked.
Wrath fought the urge to caress her voluptuous ass with his own hands.
“I’ve ought to smack you harder! What were you thinking, looking for trouble? You know lycans are dangerous and yet chased after Ezekiel.” He countered, stepping closer for effect.
“Oh please, spare me the lecture,” Artemis scoffed. “I know what I’m doing, Raiden. Things took an unexpected turn but you and I both know that I would’ve gotten out of here as easily as I got in with or without your help.”
As she shut him down, her eyes explored the room for any weapons or exits.
“Let’s get two things straight, Artemis.”
Her eyes forgot all about the bookshelf she was studying and traveled to his. They were so wide that one would have expected her shock to have been elicited by an insult. But the only noun Wrath was guilty of saying was her name.
He said her name... for the very first time.
There was a homely feeling about that. But she didn’t get to ponder too much on it because he continued. “Firstly: I am not your friend. Don’t call me by my birth name. I’m Wrath and that’s all that there is to me. And secondly,” his teeth ground together with murderous force. “You wouldn’t have to be getting out of anything if you didn’t look for trouble in the first place!”
Artemis scoffed audaciously. She flicked her braid over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. Wrath watched on, wondering why her signs of rebellion didn’t anger him as much as they would if they came from another person.
“Unlike you, I don’t run from problems!” she snapped, throwing his attempts of evading their bond back at his face.
Wrath threw his head back and uncharacteristically boomed with a dry, humorless, mocking laugh. When he turned back to her, his short hair fell over his left brow. “What? Are you calling me a coward? Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”
She opened her mouth to reply but he didn’t allow it.
“I know what I am. A murderer, a sinner. I’ve accepted every name in the book so your petty subliminal messages don’t mean shit.”
“And that is just the thing—” Artemis tried.
“Shut the fuck up! I’m talking!” Wrath razored her line.
“You can call me whatever the fuck you find fitting. But don’t you ever,” he leaned down so his menacing snarl was inches from her own furious one. “... get yourself in danger like this again. You cannot die. I forbid it. You hear me?”
Now it was Artemis’ turn to vex.
“You can’t do that!”
He stood straight.
“You can’t say endearing things like that! You can’t simultaneously push me in and out. You’re not a defective magnet! You’re a man. A redeemed man that was given a second chance at life so why don’t you try to live it!” Her chest heaved as her lungs sought replenishment.
Wrath tried to reply but received a taste of his own medicine when she interrupted him.
“Sol,” she blurted. “Sol forgave himself. When will you do the same?”
To that, he had no answer.
He turned his attention to the rest of the room. “This isn’t the place or time to criticize my life choices. We have to get out of here.”
Artemis sighed. He was right.
“We can’t leave through the front entrance because it’ll give them a wide, open range to shoot. We’ll have to take the back. There are a few trees that can give us cover. I’m assuming that you parked the car there?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Once we go back into the office, I’ll take care of Ezekiel. Sol and I are armed. We can take out the guards before they know what hit them while you stay with the girls. His office doesn’t have a window so you’ll have to barricade the door to keep everyone out while Sol and I take care of them. If neither of us come back, fight your way past the guards that survived and hightail out of there. The key is in the car’s passenger seat.”
She shook her head with confusion. “Take care of Ezekiel? How?”
“He’s mortal now,” he explained and her face lit up.
“If I knew that, I would’ve been halfway home by now,” she laughed. The sound was... cute. After a few seconds of no response from him other than a heated, private, locked stare, she looked down at the hem of his shirt.
And then, she meticulously began to reach for it.
Wrath could only watch in a daze as her unblemished hand got closer to his torso.
He knew what had to happen before they left the room. So did she.
The small flame that got ignited by their disagreement blazed out of control, fed by a new carnal emotion. One that veiled him with desperation to domineer just as anger did. He wanted to devour her. Not destructively, but dominatingly. He wanted to own Artemis Clark Rhee. Everything— whether tangible or not. Her cute laugh, iron spirit, her chest which accented when she propped her arms under it stubbornly.
Artemis’ hand finally reached his torso. She gripped his blue shirt and with one rough pull, made him stagger a foot forward.
She was completely ignorant of the storm that called his head home. But her own thoughts resembled some kind of natural disaster.
She was both excited and nerve-wrecked.
Excited in the midst of the fucked up situation they were in. They were getting forced to touch each other by the formidable turn of events and yet she found no remorse for her fate.
She wanted his attention. But she wasn’t selfish. Because she also wanted to give.
Give him a taste of what it felt to be alive.
Now that she took the first step, Wrath followed her lead and took the second. He removed the space remaining between them, swung his head down, and touched down on her warm lips. Immediately, his memory took him back to the lake; The body of water that served as an escape from his enslaving thoughts. But now when he looks back, the bliss of the serene water was nothing but a monotone, grey, temporary fantasy. Now that he knew what Artemis tasted like, he felt like he had unlocked a new palette of colors he could paint the world with.
She made him feel. No lake or whiskey could compare to her. He had to have more.
As that decision crossed him, Artemis pulled back.
Her eyes were dazed while his were confused. “I remember,” she says.
He said nothing.
“I remember everything. Raiden... You fixed me,” her voice cracked.
His arm went from her waist to the back of her legs. He lifted her up and went back to kissing her, sliding his tongue past her lips as he had dreamt of doing time and time again. Artemis clung onto his head, brushing his hair away from his forehead as she tried to meet the ferocity of his lips.
He walked them to the only couch in the room and lowered her down, immediately working on removing her boots as he kept their faces connected.
Once the boots were gone, so were her jeans.
Wrath took no time in sliding his tongue up her smooth, shaved leg.
From her ankle,
to her knee,
to her panty line.
Artemis watched the crown of his head as it escalated up her leg, wondering where her breath had gone. He stared at the black cloth for a second, before sliding right past it and laying a disappointing kiss on her shoulder.
“I won’t take you here.” His voice was heavy. And for the first time, not with wrath.
Artemis nodded, feeling like a fool for forgetting the mission.
**Mature scene below. Stop reading now if you don’t wish to see it.**
With that being said, Wrath slid a finger down the middle of her legs so roughly that she had to cover her mouth to hide a moan.
Just because they wouldn’t completely mate didn’t mean foreplay would have to get abandoned. After all, they had to walk out of the room literally smelling like sex otherwise Ezekiel would suspect something was up.
Eight minutes. Wrath had about eight minutes to make her cream. Something told her he wouldn’t need a fraction of that time.
He kneeled between her legs, resting at the mercy of his goddess who was still timidly covering her face with her hands. This was another endearment that he found cute.
His index finger hooked around the small mound and pushed her panty aside. A groan left him.
She was shaved. And pink. And crying out for him.
He leaned in and wiped those tears with his tongue. Artemis’ hands pressed against her face with enough force that will probably leave an imprint.
He took as much of her as he could into his mouth and sucked roughly. His cheeks hollowed out and his tongue stamped against her, getting closer than any panty she had ever worn before.
Her tighs tried to encase his head to bring him closer but Wrath forbade the movement, keeping her open like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Up, down, in, out, suck, nibble.
What the hell was he doing down there? Artemis had no idea. All she knows is that she should’ve gotten kidnapped earlier.
Wrath focused like never before. Focused on physically showing her the colors she made him see. His raven deserved to fly, to soar past the tallest mountain, highest cloud, furthest star. She needed to reach heaven.
It didn’t take long to get her there. When his tongue stroked her clit with particular pressure, she arched her back and cried out past her oppressing hand.
Wrath smiled a rare and true grin. He kissed her inner thigh and stood up, not licking her clean because the scent of her orgasm would help fake how far they progressed.
Artemis shut her legs close but that didn’t stop the aftershocks from zizzling up her core. Her hands, which were still pressed against her face, remained there as Wrath pulled her jeans back on and tied her shoes.
“Ready?” he asks, voice still thick.
Artemis cleared her throat and slowly removed her hands. “Yes,” she nodded firmly, still sitting.
Wrath offered her a hand. She took it. And they walked out of that room with a different light than what they entered with.