Under the Sky

Zeff

The morning air was crisp as I made my way to the office, a sense of unease settling in my chest. As I stepped into the building and headed towards my desk, I noticed a few colleagues exchanging glances and whispering among themselves. Something felt off, and it didn't take long to see why.

Liliam walked in a few minutes later, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Her usual composed demeanor was replaced with a fragile, vulnerable look that made my heart ache. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone as she made her way to her desk.

I couldn't stand seeing her like this. I stood up and walked over to her, concern etched on my face. "Liliam," I said softly, trying to catch her attention without startling her. "What happened?"

She looked up at me, and for a moment, it seemed like she might brush me off. But then her expression crumbled, and tears welled up in her eyes again. She glanced around the office, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of breaking down in front of everyone.

She shook her head and turned back to her desk, taking a deep, shaky breath. But I could sense the tremor of her emotions in the slight quiver of her skin, and I could smell the salt of her unshed tears. It was like a punch to the gut, feeling her pain so acutely.

I reached out and took hold of her wrist, pulling her gently to follow me. She didn't resist, allowing me to guide her down the hallway to a small, rarely used conference room. Once inside, I closed the door softly behind us, creating a small bubble of privacy away from the prying eyes and ears of the office.

She looked so fragile, her hands trembling as they balled into fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. Her breath hitched, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I couldn't stand to see her like this.

Without a second thought, I crossed the small room in two strides and pulled her into a strong embrace. At first, she tensed in my arms, but then she melted into me, her body trembling as she finally let go. Her face buried into my chest, and the sobs that she had been holding back came rushing out in a torrent of pent-up emotion.

I held her tighter, feeling the heat of her body seep through my shirt. It was the first time I'd held her this close, and I was struck by how perfectly she fit against me, like she belonged there. Her sobs grew louder, her body shaking against mine, her weak hands clutching desperately at my shirt on either side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered between her sobs, her voice barely audible, muffled against my chest.

"It's okay," I murmured softly, my hand stroking her hair in a soothing rhythm. "You needed a shoulder to cry on."

I could feel her tears soaking through my shirt, each drop like a dagger to my heart. Her pain was my pain, her sorrow my own. All I wanted in that moment was to take it all away, to make her smile again. To see her eyes light up with that spark of joy I had grown to love.

She didn't need to apologize, not to me. She was carrying so much on her shoulders, far more than she should have to bear alone. And if I could be there to help carry even a fraction of that burden, I would do it without hesitation.

"Do you need me to punch him?" I asked, trying to lighten the moment, and I heard her laugh weakly. It was a sound that made my chest feel lighter, even if just for a second. She shook her head, her hair brushing against my chin.

Her warmth seeped into me, and I could feel my body melting into her closeness, her scent of blackberries wrapping around my senses like a soft, intoxicating cloud. I didn't want to move. God, I didn't want to let her go. And she didn't move either. Her hands grasped my shirt tighter, almost as if she was afraid I'd pull away.

Then, her scent changed—morphed into something deeper, more primal. The smell of her arousal hit me like a punch, sharp and heady. My breath hitched, and I felt my wolf stir within me, a low growl rumbling in my chest. She probably couldn't hear it, but I felt it. I felt him.

Her hand moved slowly over my waist, a tentative touch that sent a shudder down my spine. Sweet goddess! Her body was reacting to mine, and I wasn't sure if she realized what she was doing to me—what she was doing to my wolf, to every single part of me. The bond between us was like a live wire, crackling with energy.

I'm taller than her, so my nose naturally found its way to the top of her head, burying into her hair. Her scent was stronger there, richer, more intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, letting the aroma fill my lungs, my mind spinning. My hand slid down to her back, moving in slow, soothing circles. I felt her shiver, a tiny tremor of pleasure rippling through her body. I knew that feeling; I knew what it meant.

"Why do you feel so good?" she asked, her voice thick, almost breathless. There was a raw honesty in her question that made my heart clench.

Could she feel the bond, too? Did she sense it, the same way I did? I knew it was different for humans—the way the bond affected them—but still, she had to feel something. She had to.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Maybe because you needed this?" I whispered, my words barely more than a breath against her ear.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at me, her eyes searching mine. There was confusion there, but also curiosity—a desire to understand, to know why everything felt so right and so wrong at the same time. Her lips were parted, her breathing shallow, and I could see the mix of emotions playing across her face.

And then, slowly, tentatively, she leaned in. Her lips brushed against mine in a soft, hesitant kiss, and my heart stopped. The kiss was tender, almost shy, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through my body. I felt every inch of my skin come alive, my senses sharpening, and my wolf stirring within me, growling with a primal need.

I couldn't hold back any longer. Instinct took over, and I deepened the kiss, my lips moving more urgently against hers. She gasped softly into my mouth, and I felt her body press closer to mine, her hands sliding up to my shoulders. My hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her against me as I felt the heat between us intensify.

I couldn't think—couldn't focus on anything but the feel of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the way her body molded perfectly to mine. My other hand cupped her cheek, angling her head to deepen the kiss even more, and I felt a low growl rumble in my chest as the need for her consumed me.

I pressed her against the door, feeling the cool surface against her back, my body pinning her in place. She moaned softly into my mouth, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. My hands roamed her sides, her hips, feeling the curves of her body through her clothes. I wanted more—needed more.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I responded by pressing my body harder against hers, my hips grinding against her instinctively. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, her breaths coming in short, needy gasps. Her scent—blackberries and something uniquely her—filled my senses, clouding my mind with desire.

The kiss grew more heated, more desperate. I could feel the bond between us pulling tighter, wrapping around us, binding us together in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. I wanted to lose myself in her, to let go of everything and just be with her, here, now, in this moment.

"Liliam..." I murmured against her lips, my voice rough with desire. I didn't know what I was going to say—didn't even know if I could speak. All I knew was that I needed her, more than I'd ever needed anything in my life.

She responded by kissing me harder, her tongue sliding against mine, and I groaned into her mouth, my hands gripping her hips tightly. I could feel the tension building between us, the heat rising, and I knew I was losing control.

But I didn't care. I didn't want to stop. I wanted her—wanted to claim her, to make her mine, right here, right now.

I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down her jaw to her neck, sucking and nibbling on her skin. She gasped, her head falling back against the door, and I took the opportunity to kiss down to her collarbone, my teeth grazing her skin.

Her hands tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, and I growled low in my throat, pressing my hips harder against hers. I could feel her body responding, could feel the heat radiating off her, and it drove me wild.

I wanted to push her to the edge, to make her feel everything I was feeling, to show her how much I wanted her—how much I needed her.

But then, just as quickly as it had started, reality came crashing back. I pulled back, my breath ragged, my heart hammering in my chest. Liliam's eyes were wide, her lips swollen from our kiss, her chest heaving with each breath. I could see the conflict swirling in her eyes—desire, fear, confusion—all at once.

Reality hit me like a punch to the gut. What had I done? I knew she was with Owen, that her life was already tangled in a mess of emotions and uncertainties. I should have stopped sooner, should have been stronger, but I couldn't resist her pull, the way her body reacted to mine, the way her lips felt against mine.

"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "I didn't mean to—"

She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "No, it's not your fault," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "It's mine. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done that." She took a shaky step back, putting distance between us, her hand covering her mouth as if trying to stifle her emotions.

"Liliam, wait," I started, reaching out for her, but she backed away further, shaking her head.

"I can't, Zeff," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can't do this... I shouldn't have let this happen. I have a boyfriend. This isn't fair to him... or to you."

Her words hit me harder than I'd expected, and I felt a pang of regret deep in my chest. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that we could figure this out together, but the look in her eyes told me she needed space, needed time to process what had just happened.

She turned away, her hand still pressed to her mouth, and I watched her go, feeling an ache in my chest. I wanted to reach out, to pull her back, to tell her that everything would be okay, but I knew I had to let her go. She needed to sort through her feelings, and I couldn't force her into anything she wasn't ready for.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her back to me now. "I just... I need some time."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me, swallowing the lump in my throat. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more, but then she took a deep breath and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, feeling more alone than I had in a long time.

The door clicked shut behind her, and I leaned against the wall, running a hand through my hair. My heart was still racing, my body still tingling from the feel of her against me. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

What had I done?

I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—regret, longing, frustration. I wanted her more than anything, but I knew I couldn't push her, couldn't force her to choose. She had her own life, her own choices to make, and I had to respect that.

But damn, it was hard. It was so damn hard.