Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 95 - Ninety Five

The icy, cold water in the copper tub was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the shock of him. Marissa, her mind a blank surprise, was suddenly, violently, in his lap. She was soaked to the skin in an instant, her breath stolen from her by the cold and the impact.

"Derek! You are stronger than this. You have to fight..."

Her words died as his lips claimed hers.

The kiss was different. It was something else like a desperate, drowning man finding air. His mouth was hard, hot, and unforgiving, taking hers with a raw, desperate hunger that had nothing to do with tenderness and everything to do with a deep, agonizing, and primal need.

Marissa’s eyes, wide with a shock so profound it was almost paralyzing, stared at the dark, wet, and frantic man who was consuming her. Her hands, which had been flailing, instinctively shot out and grabbed the rolled copper edges of the bathtub, her knuckles turning white as she tried to find stability in a world that had just been turned upside down.

"Marissa!!!" He moaned into her mouth.

He was like a starving man, his lips moving against hers with a raw, possessive, and almost angry energy. His good arm, the one that wasn’t bleeding, snaked around her, his hand tangling in her soaking, unbound hair, his fingers gripping the back of her head to hold her still, to pull her closer. His other hand, the one she had seen so terribly wounded, was clamped on her hip, his blood, hot and slick, smearing against the cold, wet silk of her nightgown.

Marissa’s mind, her sharp, calculating, always-in-control mind, had simply... stopped. She should be fighting him. She should be screaming. But she was frozen, consumed by the sheer, overwhelming, and utterly alien force of his desperation. It was terrifying. And in a strange, deep, and hidden part of her she didn’t even know existed, it was... captivating.

The kiss went on, deep and searching, a breathless, violent, and messy exchange. And then, through the haze of shock, through the icy water, through the cold silk of her nightgown, she felt it.

Pressed against her hip, hard, hot, and undeniable, was his arousal.

The realization was a bucket of ice water on the inside. It shattered the spell he placed on her. Her fear, which had been frozen, now exploded into a cold, clear, and focused rage. She tried to pushed him but he was stronger.

Then she bit him.

She sank her teeth into his lower lip, a sharp, sudden, and deeply vindictive act of self-preservation.

Derek cried out, a sharp, pained gasp that was more air than sound, and recoiled, his hand on her hair and hip vanishing as he jerked his head back. The spell was broken.

He stared at her, his eyes still hazy, wild, and unfocused, a single, perfect drop of his own blood, dark and bright, welling up on his lip where her teeth had been. He touched it, his fingers coming away red.

He looked at his own blood, and then at her, and a slow, dazed, almost feral smile spread across his face. He licked the blood from his lip.

His gaze, hot and heavy, dropped from her mouth, down her neck.

Her eyes followed his. She looked down at herself. And her heart stopped.

Her thin, white, silk nightgown, now completely drenched, was plastered to her body like a second skin. It was no longer white; it was transparent. He could see everything. The hard peaks of her nipples through the wet fabric. The narrow, perfect curve of her waist. The shadow of her hips beneath the water. She was, for all intents and purposes, completely naked in front of him.

A wave of humiliation, so hot and so profound it made her skin burn, washed over her. With a choked, horrified sound, she twisted, turning her back to him, huddling in the icy water, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

She heard him groan. It was not a sound of pain. It was a low, pained, deep sound of raw, and completely uncontrolled need. She could feel him fighting for control.

"How strong is that drug that my antidote is taking this much time to clear his symptoms. Maybe I should have added more herbs and less water for the activation." She whispered to herself, confusion lacing her voice.

She then felt the water shift behind her. She felt his heat, his presence. She felt him snap.

She knew, with a sudden, absolute, and terrifying certainty, that he was about to grab her, that all his restraint was gone.

She spun around. The only way to solve this is to immobilize him. Her hand, which had been clutched in a fist, shot up from the water. Her stiffened, rigid fingers struck a precise, hard, and vulnerable pressure point on the side of his neck.

Derek’s eyes, which had been dark and glazed with pure, unthinking hunger, went wide. A single, small, choked sound "Ah!" and her name " Marissa!" escaped his lips. His body, which had been tense as a bowstring, went completely, instantly limp.

He fell back against the copper tub, his head slumping to the side, his eyes rolling back. He was, in an instant, unconscious.

Marissa stayed there for a long, silent moment, her body shaking, half from the cold, half from the sheer, violent rush of adrenaline. She stared at his peaceful, unconscious face, at the small, bloody cut on his lip, at the raw, gaping wound on his hand.

With a deep sigh of annoyance, she climbed out of the tub, her wet clothes weighing a thousand pounds. She did not look at him. She walked, her feet leaving wet footprints on her own floor, to her dressing room. She dried herself and changed into a warm, dry gown, her mind a cold, empty, and strangely quiet place. Her hands touched her lips which were swollen from the kiss as she looked at herself in the mirror.