Chapter 119: _ Made To Hate You
~Grayson’s Point Of View~
The demon treehouse is as weird as they come.
Grayson can hear it breathing the walls. He can hear the slow pulsing, resin-scented breaths that make the planks creak like ribs are flexing. Shadows pool in the corners, twitching when he doesn’t look directly at them. A home built by demons can only ever be half a home while the other half remains a threat.
He goofs off in the lone chair which seems like the only piece of furniture shaped for human bones, his long legs are stretched out with one boot kicking lazily against the floor.
Morgan is at the window with an attentive posture, scanning the labyrinth outside. He always looks like that when he thinks no one’s watching. Sometimes, Grayson wonders if there’s more to his twin than even he knows. Yes, Morgan is just as outspoken and goofy as him, but in private, when Grayson watches his brother from behind, all he sees is a tall, grim, and brooding guy hiding behind the mask of goofiness.
Grayson lets him brood. He has other thoughts clawing at him.
Specifically: Heidi Castell.
The little Moon Blessed with the big mouth.
Earlier tonight, she’d stood in front of them with fire in her eyes, hurling defiance like it was a weapon. Declared she’d rather die than live under the same roof with the Bellamy twins. She had meant it too with that clenched jaw and bared claws.
Ah! That stubborn little thwart. Somehow, Grayson has never seen a more beautiful and desirable thwart.
Well, he should be offended with her silly ass disrespectful tone. But instead, he’s intrigued.
Because while the others look half-dead. Hell, almost all the Moon Blessed were pale, hollow-eyed and were dragging themselves through the labyrinth like corpses that hadn’t gotten the hint, Heidi looks almost untouched. She’s more at attention and stronger. That beautiful dusty pink skin of hers barely suffered any bruises.
It is true that she’s a wolf and hence, has the rapid healing gene, but for a newly awakened wolf, her healing has no business being that fast and effective. There’s definitely something about her...
The striker machine flashes in his mind. . That indestructible magic laced thing that has never given way to any blow. through And yet... Heidi broke it.
Everyone assumes the machine was faulty, glitched, or malfunctioned, but Grayson is beginning to wonder if the truth is the opposite. If maybe it wasn’t the machine that broke. Maybe it was Heidi who broke it.
And if she’s been pretending to be mellow, weak, ordinary all this time? Oh, that would be a hell of a trick. And he intends to find out.
The door creaks making him lift his head to see the devil that’d stolen all the space in his mind.
Heidi. Freaking Moon Blessed Heidi.
She is framed by the threshold, wet from her bath. Her hair is wet, clinging to her neck in golden strands. Her skin glows faintly from the steam, as though the labyrinth’s false moonlight has sunk into her. And around her body, she has draped a demon-made wrapper that is made of a flimsy fabric that hugs her body and flows in others, unable to decide if it wants to be a towel, a sheet, or an invitation.
The sight draws a slow smile across Grayson’s face because that body he’s gawking at... that beautifully carved work of art is so alluring, he can feel himself getting erect.
She pauses for a heartbeat, eyes darting from Morgan at the window to Grayson in the chair. Then her chin lifts in that defiant little tilt before she strides into the room. Grayson’s brows crease as he watches how hard she seems to want to make her steps look casual and unconcerned.
"Hm... cunning little thing, isn’t she?" Tris purrs in his head.
Before Grayson can respond to his wolf, Morgan turns, leaning his shoulder against the window frame with his corky smirk already in place. "You know," he drawls, "you don’t need to bother with clothing around us."
That stops Heidi who scoffs, clutching the cloth tighter around her body. "And why shouldn’t I?"
Okay... the show is about to begin!
Grayson rises from his chair and chirps in. "Maybe because you’re our mate."
Her head snaps toward him, eyes flashing. "Excuse me?"
He takes his time, letting his gaze trail down her wrapped form before meeting her eyes again. "Your body and your soul. They’re already bound to ours. Might as well stop pretending otherwise."
Her laugh bursts incredulously though a flush spreads across her cheeks. "This isn’t Duskwind Academy. Learn your place. You haven’t claimed me. Our souls aren’t linked. Not even close."
"Technicalities," Morgan points out, shrugging one broad shoulder. "We’ll fix that soon enough."
Her fingers clench on the edge of the wrapper. "Over my dead body."
Grayson tilts his head, watching her like she’s a puzzle he can’t wait to solve. "If that’s what it takes."
The glare she throws him should be lethal. It isn’t. If anything, it only makes him want to see how much sharper she can burn.
"You two are unbelievable," she snaps.
"And you," Grayson says softly, circling her like a predator testing its prey, "are adorable when you’re angry."
She stiffens, shoulders tense and breath quickening. But her feet don’t move. She doesn’t retreat, even when Morgan pushes off the window frame and closes in behind her. The air also obeys, getting hotter. And sweet little Heidi, her heartbeat is loud enough that Grayson swears the treehouse itself can hear it.
"Stay back," she warns.
"Or what?" Grayson murmurs, stepping closer until her scent teases his senses.
Morgan chuckles darkly. "Scratch us? Bite us? We’d enjoy it."
Her mouth opens like she’s ready to retort, but no words come. She swallows instead, eyes flicking between the two of them. Grayson can literally feel her defiance battling with the desire pooling from beneath her. It is so palpable that it makes her pupils widen, makes her breath stutter.
Longing.
She wants this. She hates that she does, but she wants it.
Grayson sees it in the way her knuckles tremble against the fabric, in the way her chest rises and falls too fast. She’s teetering on the edge of fire, pretending she doesn’t want to fall in.
He smirks, leaning close enough that his breath brushes her damp hair. "Keep telling yourself you hate us, Castell. Convince yourself while you still can."
Her eyes spark, but before she can retort, Morgan moves. He lifts a hand and lets his fingers brush the edge of her wrapper at her shoulder. It’s a daring simple touch. It works too.
Heidi freezes.
Her eyes dart to him, blazing hot, but she doesn’t pull away. She stands there, rigorous, wrapped in a storm of fury and heat. Her lips part, ready to bite out another insult, but when Morgan tugs at it lightly, the cloth shifts — slipping lower to reveal a line of damp, glowing skin.
She audibly sucks in her breath.
Grayson’s laugh quietly slips out. "You’re fire, Heidi. Pure fire. And you don’t even know how much you burn."
She turns that fire on him, eyes narrowed, and cheeks flushed. "You don’t own me."
Grayson’s smirk widens, his gaze fixed on the defiance trembling on her lips. "Maybe not yet. But you’re not running either."
She should shove them away if she doesn’t want them like she claims. Hell, she should storm out, slam the door, prove her words with action but she isn’t doing any of those. Instead, Grayson sees her body leaning forward, infinitesimally and betraying her mouth.
The air becomes electrifying with the sparks of wolf heat.
Morgan’s fingers slide a bit lower on the wrapper, testing her restraint and daring her to pull away.
Grayson circles her, his sense sharpened as he’s drawn to the storm she carries. His chest hums with hunger, and the wild certainty that she is theirs, that she always has been.
Her eyes dart between them, furiously desperatly, and alight with heat she can’t smother. And then — finally... the war inside her tips. Her hand shoots out, grabbing Grayson’s collar, and yanking him down with a strength that surprises even him.
Her lips crash against his with fire and defiance and hunger all at once. The kiss is not gentle. It’s a battle. A dare and a surrender disguised as an attack. For them who had been her opposites, it’s as if she’s challenging them to a battle of sensations.
And Grayson, for once, is content to lose.
Her lips are wildfire against his. Grayson growls into the kiss, his hands instinctively finding her waist. She’s small beneath his grip, yet solid, as though some untamed force holds her upright. Her mouth moves against his like a fight, nipping, biting, and daring him to press harder.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to laugh against her lips. "You taste like sin, Heidi."
Her eyes glazes. Her chest is super heaving and her wrapper has slipped even dangerously lower now. "Then choke on it, you bastard!" She hisses.
Gods, she’s lethal. Even when she’s giving herself over, she makes it sound like a threat.
Morgan is at her back, his breath brushing the curve of her neck. "Careful, little wolf," he murmurs. "You talk like that, and we might just take you at your word."
She shivers a little, too quickly that it could have escaped the eyes, but it’s enough for Grayson to notice.
"Arrogant pricks," she spits, but the insult rings hollow when her fingers clutch at Grayson’s shirt, anchoring herself.
"Arrogant?" Grayson repeats with a sharp grin. He dips his head, lips grazing her jaw, tasting the steam and the faint salt of her skin. "No, sweetheart. Just certain. You were made for us."
"Made to hate you," she snaps, though the tremor in her voice betrays her.
Morgan chuckles, his lips barely an inch from her ear. "Then hate us harder. We’ll make sure you enjoy it."
Her breath stutters, caught between outrage and want. The wrapper slips another inch, baring more glowing skin, and neither twin moves to stop it.
Grayson’s hands slide higher along her sides, but he’s not pulling, or forcing — just teasing the edges of her restraint. His voice lowers, husky with hunger. "Admit it. You’ve thought about this. You’ve thought about having us. Both of us inside of you... all at once. You want the two cocks in you, right? Don’t lie, you slutty little wolf."
Her eyes blaze, defiant to the last minute. "I’d rather..."
He kisses her again before she can finish, swallowing the lie, dragging her into another wildfire clash of lips and teeth. This time she doesn’t pull back even if she barely did earlier. This time she leans in, pressing closer, her wrapper caught between their bodies and threatening to untangle completely.
When they part, she’s gasping, but her forehead is still pressed to his.
"You’re..."