Chapter 25

ISABELLE’S POV

The room was buzzing with tension, thick enough to cut through with a blade. My hands rested on Kael, my heart was pounding uncontrollably in my chest.

Red hot passion burned under my skin, urging me to lean into Kael's arms but I willed myself to hold back.

His dark molten gaze bore into mine, a slight frown marrying his features. We hadn’t moved an inch since he leaned in and I turned away.

My wolf was restless, practically growling in my mind with confusion. ‘Why are you hesitating? Look at him. He’s ready, you should take this opportunity and claim him.’

But I remained frozen, my mind firm. I barely managed to restrain myself from giving in to the burning desire to let Kael kiss me but a single thought lingered at the back of my mind.

I just couldn’t let this moment end up as something fleeting and impulsive. My plans and relationship with Kael need more than just passion at the moment. I needed him to be utterly devoted to me completely, beyond lust or affection.

After all, in the future I wasn't going to have just one man, to save my life I would need to mate with multiple men.

Convincing so many men to coexist peacefully would require strong and unbreakable bonds with each of them.

My wolf swelled with pride as she nodded thoughtfully at my decision. ‘I applaud your newfound wisdom, Princess.” She whispered, 'Withholding yourself would only make you more cherished in his eyes.’

KAEL’S POV

My wolf was clawing at me, demanding me to take her, to claim the woman who had somehow shaken me to my core.

The fire burning within me was relentless, threatening to devour my entire self-control. I was a soldier, a man with a trained mind and iron-clad control, but she was slowly tearing me apart, my fingers trembling as I fought not to hold her.

My mind was muddled, not a single clear thought except from her– ‘Isabelle.’

My heart was racing and it felt like I was going to combust if I didn't pull her in closer.

Yet, somehow she remained composed, her hands slowly falling from around my neck back to her sides.

She took a step back, her gaze flickering over my body with a small satisfied smile. It's like she knew the effects she was having on me.

“Take the pants off.” She whispered and I blinked, suddenly remembering our deal.

I whipped around, returning to her canvas, ignoring me as she fiddled with her paint tubes, her back turned to me.

I took a deep breath, slid down the pants, folded all my clothes neatly and draped them on her bed.

When Isabelle turned back to me, her cool expression faltered, her eyes wide as she gazed at me, but she quickly composed herself and stroked the canvas with her brush.

“Stand still,” she commanded, her voice as soft as it was firm, her eyes lit with concentration as she studied me from head to toe.

I obeyed, though my fists were clenched at my sides, and my muscles tensed beneath her focused gaze.

Isabelle’s eyes moved around me with practised precision, tilting her head to observe every angle of my form.

The way she bit her lips, her brush pausing, her gaze lingering on a particular part of my body, only fueled the storm brewing within me.

Hours slipped by, the sun slowly setting yet I could feel every caress of her gaze. By the time she finally set her brush down, my jaw was clenched, my expression tight on the edge of restraint.

“Come here,” she said, waving me over to the easel.

I approached her slowly, our gazes locked, and all signs of the teasing mockery I had expected from her were replaced with a hint of admiration.

As I got closer, I could see her expression was filled with excitement, her lips curling into a smile that crinkled her eyes. “Look,” she said, stepping aside to reveal the painting.

My breath caught in my throat as I glanced at the canvas. The painting staring back at me wasn’t just a portrait—it was an absolute masterpiece.

Isabelle had managed to capture every single detail, every line and shadow, but more than that, she had painted me with a reverence that stunned me.

“You don’t hate it, do you?” she asked, looking up at me, a tiny hint of vulnerability slipping into her voice.

I turned to her, my chest tightening at the sight of her expectant expression, waiting for my opinion.

“Hate it?” he murmured, his voice low. “It’s... beautiful, Isabelle.”

Her eyes lit up and her smile widened, and in a second before I could say another word, she reached up, cupping my face in both hands. Her touch was warm and gentle.

Then, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

I froze. The simple kiss sent a jolt through me, and the fire I had struggled to contain the whole time suddenly reignited.

My wolf growled, urging me to take what was his, to claim her, to make her his mate in every way.

I hesitated, snapping my eyes shut to hold myself back, but her scent was around me, and I could still feel the warmth her lips left on my cheeks.

In one swift motion, I reached around her and scooped her into my arms, holding her up as though she weighed nothing.

Isabelle let out a loud yelp in surprise as I held her up, my movements fluid and deliberate, every ounce of my strength and authority as a general on full display.

Isabelle blinked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and amusement. Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but no words came out.

I tightened my grip, my gaze locked on hers. The tension between them was unbearable, electric.

“Is that all?” I growled, my voice low and rough, vibrating with heat and desire.