Chapter 262

Nima

Being a fourth-year at Felaris means one thing above all else: busy.

I adjust the strap of my bag, heavy with scrolls and today’s neglected sketching supplies, and make my way toward the senior dormitories.

Honestly, since the break ended, I’ve practically moved into Daphne’s room. It wasn’t a formal discussion, just a natural drift. My own bed in the Longear quarters feels like a forgotten memory.

I mean, it makes sense. All holiday, back at her Duchy, we spent every free moment together. Waking up to the smell of oil paint and her quiet humming, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing. Why would we stop now that we’re back within these stone walls?

A wolf beast-man rounds the corner and his shoulder bumps mine. "Sorry," he mumbles, not breaking his stride.

I blink, standing still for a moment in the sun-dappled corridor.

That’s it.

No flinch. No icy jolt of adrenaline shooting down my spine. My muscles didn’t tense, my ears didn’t pin back—nothing. Just... an acknowledgment.

Normally, a predator’s sudden proximity, even an accidental one, would send my whole body into a silent scream. My back would stiffen, my heart would hammer against my ribs, and that ancient, awful calculus of fight-or-flight would take over. Always flight. Always.

But not anymore.

It’s only natural, I suppose. I spend nearly every hour with a predator. And not just any predator. The predator.

The one whose mere presence clears hallways. My instincts are getting confused, drowned out by a constant, overwhelming exposure to her. I’m being desensitized.

A terrifying thought whispers through me: I’m losing my senses. My ability to smell true danger on the wind.

What kind of Longear am I, becoming unable to flee? My most basic, fundamental purpose... fading.

I let out a soft sigh, a faint smile touching my lips despite the worry. I know exactly who to blame.

I blame the Duchess who complains about noble petitions but always listens, really listens, when I talk about my dream bookstore. I blame the predator whose lap is my favorite place to read, whose quiet growl of contentment is my new definition of safety.

I shake my head, my ears twitching once in mock frustration. Yes. This is entirely Daphne’s fault.

With that settled, I continue up the grand staircase, the familiar path to her door feeling more like coming home than returning to a dormitory. The bag feels lighter.

I push open the door, and I quickly shut it closed, my heart racing because I’m met with an extremely obscene scene.

On the bed, Daphne has her shirt unbuttoned, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her toned abdomen. Her trousers are unzipped, and her hand is inside, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her head leans against the headboard, eyes closed, lost in her own pleasure.

I drop my bag, the sound drawing her attention. She opens her eyes, and her golden gaze locks onto mine, intense and predatory. Her dark hair flows over her chest and abdomen, framing her muscular form.

Daphne is so attractive, so devastatingly alluring in this moment, that my breath catches in my throat.

She motions for me to come closer, her fingers beckoning me with a promise of untold pleasures. I walk towards her, my steps hesitant yet drawn by an irresistible force.

As I reach the bed, she extends her hand, her fingers glistening with her own arousal.

"Come here, Nima," she purrs, her voice a low, throaty growl that sends shivers down my spine.

Oh she rarely says my name. My body shudders at that. I might the only prey walking willing into the jaws of a predator.

I comply without hesitation, my heart pounding in my chest. She places her fingers into my mouth, and I suck them greedily.

Daphne smiles a small, knowing smile, her eyes never leaving mine, and my heart jumps with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Her free hand reaches out, cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing gently against my skin. "You’re so beautiful," she murmurs, her voice laced with hunger.

"I’ve been thinking about you all day, my little bunny."

"I’m sorry, school and..." I don’t finish my sentence because her claws tear open my shirt, the fabric ripping with a sharp, satisfying sound. It always amazes me how she’s able to do this without so much as a scratch on my skin.

Her hands immediately move to my chest, her touch both gentle and possessive. There’s no kiss, just the intense, almost feral way she explores my body, her fingers tracing the curves of my breasts, the sensitive skin of my collarbone. I like this too, I like it very much.

She takes my hand and guides it into her pants, her eyes never leaving mine. I can feel the heat of her, the wetness of her arousal, and my heart races with excitement.

She moves to kiss me, her lips capturing mine in a fierce, demanding kiss. I explore her, my fingers tracing, she’s swollen how long has she been like this?

She groans, a deep, throaty sound that vibrates through her body and into mine. "I’ve been waiting for you," she admits, her voice husky with need. "Touch me, Nima. Make me feel good."

This never happens, who knows when next this will happen? I take my chance.

I place the heel of my palm just the way she taught me, applying gentle pressure to her clit while my fingers explore her outer folds, teasing and circling.

Her hands roam my body, tracing the curves of my hips, the arch of my back, her touch both gentle and possessive. I can feel the tension building in her, her body coiled tight with need.

"Daphne," I whisper, my voice trembling with desire. "I want to make you come."

She growls, a sound of pure, primal need. "Then do it," she demands, her voice hoarse with desire. "Make me come, my little bunny."

I increase the pressure, my fingers moving in a steady rhythm, circling her clit, teasing her outer folds. Daphne’s breath hitches, her body tensing as she chases her release. Her hands grip my hips, her claws digging into my skin, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

"Nima," she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. "I’m close."