The sun hadn't yet crested the horizon when Elliot stirred awake. The room was dim, filled with the cool blue light of early morning. Outside the window, the trees rustled faintly in the wind, and the occasional call of a distant Pidgey broke the silence. His alarm hadn't gone off yet — it couldn't have been later than six. But something had woken him.
Or rather… someone.
He couldn't move.
Warmth pressed against his side — soft, plush, and unmistakably female. A weight had molded itself to his body through the night, and now that he was coming to, he could feel every inch of her.
Amara.
Her pale, silky fur tickled his bare arm where her body curled against him. She was practically draped over his right side, her strong, smooth thigh hooked over his waist and her arms wrapped possessively around his chest. Her soft, cool breath tickled the side of his neck, each exhale shaky and slow — controlled, but only barely. Her horns, dangerous and sleek, angled just above the pillow, and her thick, fluffy tail swished lightly behind her, brushing his leg through the covers.
But it was her lips that made his breath catch.
They hovered just above his throat, not quite touching… but close enough that he could feel the warmth of her mouth.
She was trembling.
Her fingers clutched the fabric of his T-shirt like a lifeline. She was trying to be gentle, to hold back. But he could feel the tension in her entire body. She wasn't just cuddling. This was restraint. Desperate restraint.
Since the alley attack, she hadn't left his side. She walked with him to class, waited outside the bathroom door, clung to his arm in the hallways, and refused to let him sleep without her wrapped around him. He understood. She had always been protective, but now she was feral about it. Like losing him for a second had shattered something deep inside her.
He didn't mind. Not really.
But this… this was different.
"Amara…" he whispered softly, not moving.
She stiffened.
"I know you're awake."
Her breath hitched. She didn't answer.
He shifted slightly, just enough to tilt his head and look at her.
Her crimson eyes were half-lidded, dark and glassy with desire — and something else. Hunger. Not for food. Not even for sex.
For him.
Her lips parted slightly, and he felt the faintest brush of her fangs against his neck.
"I wasn't going to bite," she said, her voice trembling with shame. "I was just… I needed to be close. I needed to feel you breathe."
"You're shaking."
"I almost lost you," she whispered, pressing her chest tighter to his ribs. He could feel her heart racing through her skin. "He hit you so hard, Elliot. I thought— I thought I didn't get there in time."
"You did," he said gently.
"Not fast enough."
He let out a soft sigh and raised a hand, threading his fingers through her silver-white hair. Her body relaxed slightly, but her lips remained at his neck, and her thighs squeezed his waist tighter, like letting go would mean losing him again.
"You're not a bodyguard, Amara," he murmured. "You're not a weapon. You're not a curse. You're… you."
She let out a soft whimper.
"And I love you. Even if you're clingy. Even if you hold me too tight."
"I can't help it," she whispered, her voice raw now. "It hurts when you're far away."
"Then stay close," he said. "I want you close."
She slowly lifted her head, her eyes meeting his.
"Can I… taste you?" she asked, cheeks red. "Just a little."
He paused — then tilted his head slightly.
"Be gentle."
She didn't need to be told twice.
Her lips brushed his neck, then parted. The touch of her tongue was warm, wet, and reverent. She moaned softly, one hand gripping his shirt as she licked his skin with slow, tender passes — not enough to mark, just enough to savor him.
Elliot swallowed hard.
"Amara…"
"I need this," she whispered, breath shaky. "Please…"
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him completely.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said.
And for the first time in days, she believed it.