Bianca was stunned. If the man looked beautiful that day, he looked absolutely stunning now. The morning light that fell on his face revealed the perfection. With a stubborn chin that had a hint of cleft, his face looked charming beyond words. The sun-kissed added to it. His hazel eyes appeared almost golden as the rays fell on him.

His soft golden hair in which she had thought of digging her hands every waking hour of the day was fluttering across his lean cheeks.

Her gaze met him for long moments before she studied every feature, every contour on his god-like looks. And the way he looked at her—it was as if he was starved of her… starved of being with her, as if she was the beginning and the end of the world. Her body tingled as she felt his heated gaze on her.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing, so she started walking slowly towards him, still trapped in his gaze. But as she walked to him, all her emotions returned—sadness after he left her, misery when he didn't contact her for two years, longing to touch him, see him, hollowness that she combated, distance that she created from others and hatred that she grew from him—everything returned. She walked up to him and stopped when she was just a few inches away. Just like that day, his scent washed over her—spice and lush flowers. Her body trembled. The man was real. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She extended her palm to his face.

"Bianca…" her name rolled off his tongue in the form of worship. There were so many things that he wanted to do, and at the moment—standing with her and not touching her was unbearable. There was so much passion, so much want, so much need running under his skin that he felt he would burn if he didn't touch her. Every waking minute had been a torture for him ever since she was born. All he ever wanted was to be with her. And here she was… He wanted to pull her and kiss her senseless, as he had imagined all these years. He had waited for her for so long that every second of waiting more was like a dagger to his existence. His throat choked and a lump formed inside. He turned his head in slightly. "I need—"

A slap cracked across his cheek.

Brantley's face turned left on the impact. A red pattern appeared on his cheek and he let go of a sharp breath. He looked back at her with anger mixed with passion in his eyes. He deserved that slap because he couldn't stop from seeing her two years back. And he knew that neither could she.

"I hate you!" she rasped. Her mind was a riot of so many conflicting thoughts that she didn't know what she was saying. In that moment she realized that how could she hate a man she was so obsessed with? But she had turned her obsession into hatred because that was less painful. His absence, that… that gnawing lack each passing minute of every single day hurt her, and it was her hatred that made her live, let her breathe. Two years of anger, disgust, anxiety, attraction and an unknown feeling came down in that one slap. She looked at him fiercely, as if she would eat him up. "You left me hanging!" she shouted. "Every day I kept thinking what was it that I did wrong," she said in a breathy voice. A tear rolled out. No, no, no. She willed herself to stop crying and bit her lip hard, but the bloody tear rolled out and made her look desperate and weak.

A muscle feathered in his jaw as he looked at the ground after the slap, and when he looked back at her it was as if he would burn her with his passion. In that heated moment, Brantley cupped her neck with his right palm and pulled her closer to him. He snaked his left arm around her waist, pulled her to his chest and leaned in. His mouth was just a breath closer to hers and she felt her lips parting for him.

"I am sorry," he murmured.

She saw a hint of fangs and got turned on. "For what?" she asked him as if trying to reassure herself that she was as much affected by him as he was by her. At the same time she didn't know why she was so deeply moved or emotionally hurt by him. There was absolutely no logic. In the past two years she must have tried to unravel this inexplicable bond, this mysterious connection and ludicrous attraction for him and every time she came to one conclusion—she was insane. And now he was standing in front of her and saying… sorry?

"For everything…" said Brantley. He became impatient. He no longer had the ability to hold himself. He looked in her eyes, in those beautiful teal eyes and melted. He looked at her red wavy hair, which fluttered wildly across her face, and melted. She was like a goddess and he wanted to worship her, love her, and possess her. A deep, dark rumble formed in his chest. Not able to bear at all, Brantley picked her up and brushed his lips against hers. Thousands of years he had waited for this girl, for his mate. For all those years, he had wanted her badly, he had searched for her far and wide. There was so much passion, desire and craving pent up inside him that he didn't know where to start and where to end.

His lips were so soft just like she had imagined. She shuddered and closed her eyes. She felt the feather light touch of his lips against her cheek and then along the lines of her lips, as if he was mapping them out. Her feeling for him had changed every day and she wasn't sure what she wanted from him but now she needed more… of him. She needed him so badly that she threw the logic out of her mind. She would question that later.

And then… he claimed her lips, as if staking claim to her, as if branding her. She moaned. He licked the seam of her lips and then tugged the lower lip with his fangs asking for her permission, and she… she opened up to him like a flower. The moment she opened, he shoved his tongue inside her. Bianca moaned and curled her arms around his neck and dug her fingers in those soft golden tresses of this beautiful man. His taste, his hotness, and his smell… everything invaded her in a way that her body heated like a thousand suns.

Through her tears, they kissed and kissed until they wanted more. Brantley turned and walked with her towards Lifye, under a canopy of trees. He put her back against an oak tree and pressed his hips against her. Leaving her mouth he blazed a path of his kisses to her nape, to her clavicle but he rooted for her taste, so he reclaimed her mouth again because if he didn't, he would die. He moved one hand down from her cheek to the upper swell of her chest. Every touch sent shivers in her but for him every touch was a reverence. She moaned into his mouth as his hands reached her nipples over the fabric of her dress. He cupped them hard.