The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 200: Chapter 200: Losing Control

Serena’s POV~

​Lucian froze, a sound...half-gasp, half-sob...caught in his throat. His lips were cold and trembling against mine for only a split second before the shock burned away, replaced by something fierce and hungry.

The desperation I had seen simmering in his eyes erupted, and he didn’t just respond; he devoured the moment.

​His arms instantly locked around my waist, tightening with a crushing force that lifted me slightly off my feet and pressed our bodies together against the cold wall.

It was a kiss fueled not by gentleness or tenderness, but by pain, fury, years of crushing absence, and undeniable longing.

​It was a confession.

​The single wall of control Lucian had desperately held up during the entire dinner...the polite smiles, the cold indifference...shattered entirely.

He tilted my head, deepening the contact, pouring all his raw, choked-back misery and longing into the desperate contact.

I felt the wetness of his tears still clinging to his skin, mingling with the frantic urgency of his mouth against mine.

​My own resistance, that stubborn wall of self-preservation I had built over the years, cracked wide open.

I clung to him, not to push him away, but to anchor myself to the only thing in this suffocating palace that felt remotely real.

My fingers left his shirt and tangled in the thick silk of his hair, pulling him closer still, trying to melt the inches between us, trying to find the boy I knew beneath the veneer of the cold man.

​The darkness of the small room, the rough texture of the wall behind me, the suffocating sound of our combined, ragged breathing...it all faded into background noise.

There was only the fire of his touch, the taste of salt and desperation on his lips, and the thrumming, agonizing realization that every lie, every distance, every deliberate cold word spoken over the last few years had been for nothing.

We were exactly where we had always been: lost in each other’s orbit, incapable of escaping.

​He shifted, his hands moving from my waist up my spine, pulling the delicate fabric of my gown tighter, seeking purchase, seeking me.

He pressed his forehead against mine for a breathless moment, a sound of profound relief rumbling low in his chest before his lips found mine again, softer this time, a quiet, almost pleading inquiry that immediately gave way to another consuming rush of passion.

painful, private secret shared only between

broke, leaving us both gasping for air in the silent, suffocating

head remained nestled against my shoulder, his breathing ragged and

had been clutching his hair, drifted down to cup his face again, my thumbs gently

see his hazy, dark eyes in the gloom. I leaned in, placing

his temple, the words barely a breath. "Just give me a little time... I will

lips...the first true, selfless promise

tension in his body snapped. He didn’t cry louder; he simply melted, his whole frame slumping against me, the

just the broken boy who had believed every word I’d

he was moving, his hands burying themselves in my hair, tilting my head back against the wall once

kissed my jawline, my cheekbones, and

where the tight collar of the gown choked me. His lips pressed hot and hard against the delicate skin there, seeking release,

against my skin,

slipped from my hair and found the zipper hidden discreetly in the back of

the sound muffled by the thick fabric of the dress

felt deafening in the silence. The neckline loosened, and he

mouth moved lower, descending past my collarbone

his intention clear. I couldn’t form a coherent thought, only a primal,

the suffocating tension of

the slight tug of

his body

that wasn’t fully human, and then, I felt it: a needle-sharp pressure where his mouth was pressed against my

hitched. The touch was agonizingly tender, yet undeniably threatening. As he moved his head, two points of white, involuntary

muffled moan escaped

sound was his

raw desire that had been blazing in his eyes was instantly drowned out by self-loathing and a

lips slightly parted, showing

He had lost it

once, heavily, as he swallowed the primal, feral urges that had just consumed

ago had been pinning me to the wall in a desperate embrace,

whisper, something sharp and unintelligible in his

face, flushed and vulnerable, still leaning back against the cold wall, my