Filed to story: Mated and Hated by My Brother’s Best Friend Book PDF Free by Anna Campbell
He buried his face in my neck, still inside me, still holding me like I might disappear.
“You’ve never…,” I whispered.
“Never,” he said roughly. “Not like this. Not with anyone. Only you.”
I believed him.
Because I had never felt like this with anyone either. Not even Max. Especially not Max. What Nate and I just shared-it wasn’t just sex. It was a claiming. A merging. A promise.
He kissed my temple.
And I whispered, “So now what?”
He looked at me, eyes soft and fierce all at once.
“Now,” he said, “we survive.”
*Jiselle*
The first thing I noticed was the warmth.
Not the blankets, not the sunlight bleeding through the tall window slats-Nate. His body was curved around mine like a second skin, his arm heavy across my waist, the slow rise and fall of his chest anchoring me to something real. Something alive.
The second thing I noticed was the ache. Not pain. Just the sweet, pulsing soreness in places I hadn’t felt in weeks. A reminder of what we’d done. What we’d finally, finally claimed as ours again.
I blinked, the room slowly coming into focus-gold light spilling across the floor, dust motes catching in the beam, the distant sound of morning birds calling beyond the stone walls. His room was quiet, shadowed, and still held the scent of us. Of heat and musk and something wild.
Nate stirred behind me.
His nose nuzzled into the back of my neck, his arm flexing around my middle like instinct. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just melted into the sensation of his skin on mine.
“Morning,” he mumbled, voice thick and rough from sleep.
I smiled. “Barely.”
He shifted behind me, and I felt the hard press of him against my backside-slow and unmistakable. My breath caught. His hand slid along my waist, fingers dipping just under the hem of his shirt, which I’d pulled on sometime after we collapsed on his couch and crawled into bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he murmured, nuzzling again.
“You’re lucky I’m wearing anything,” I whispered back.
He chuckled low, then his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Take it off.”
My whole body tingled.
His mouth moved to my neck, placing a kiss just beneath my jaw, then another just below my ear. “Or let me do it.”
I turned to face him, my breath catching at the sight of him so close-hair mussed, eyes half-lidded and dark with something I hadn’t seen in years. Not just hunger. Reverence.
I leaned in, letting my lips brush his, slow and lazy, before deepening the kiss. It was unhurried, molten. His hand found the back of my thigh, dragging it up over his hip until I was straddling him, knees bracketing his hips.
“Jiselle…” he breathed, voice strained.
I kissed him again, grinding against him slowly, teasingly. His hands slid under the shirt, over my bare thighs, up to my hips. His mouth dragged down my jaw to my neck, where he kissed and sucked, slow and claiming. His teeth grazed my skin and I whimpered, rocking against him again, feeling him groan into my throat.
Every inch of him was heat and muscle and restraint, and the way he held me-it wasn’t just need. It was worship.
He shifted, his hands trailing down to cup my ass as I ground down harder. The friction sent a jolt through me, my breath hitching as my nails dug into his shoulders.
“Shit,” he whispered against my collarbone. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I arched against him, lips parted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. Then he rolled us, pinning me beneath him with a kiss that stole what little air I had left. His hands were under my shirt again, tracing the bare skin beneath, thumbs grazing over my ribs. He pulled the shirt up, revealing just enough of my stomach to press a kiss to the center. Then another, lower. His mouth moved downward, trailing kisses along my torso, slow and reverent, until I was trembling.
But just before he reached too low, I gasped and grabbed his wrist. “If you keep going, I’m not going to let you stop.” He stilled, eyes meeting mine.
And for a moment, the teasing was gone.
He leaned up slowly, brushing hair from my face y papric plon apftening
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Not
Successfully unlocked!
I sat up, the sheet pooling around my hips as I cupped his jaw. “I know. I feel it.”
He kissed me again-this time sweet, slow. A promise rather than a demand.
When we finally pulled apart, I curled into him, letting the silence stretch between us. For once, it didn’t feel heavy. It fall full. Like every breath we took carried meaning.
“I meant what I said last night,” I whispered into the space between us.
He ran a thumb along my spine. “Which part?”
“All of it. Especially the ‘let them come.”
His chest rose beneath my cheek. “That was possibly the hottest and most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard.”
I smiled.
But the smile didn’t last long.
The silence between us settled again, and this time, it curled with tension. My hands traced lazy circles on his chest, but my mind was no longer quiet.
“What if they’re right?” I asked finally. “What if I’m something to fear?”
His arms tightened around me.
“Then they should be afraid,” he said. “Not you.”
My throat closed.
“I’m scared, Nate,” I admitted. “Not of dying. But of what happens before that. The power. The Solstice. Whatever I’m becoming.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m scared too.”
He sat up, pulling me gently with him until we were both propped against the headboard. His hand never left mine.
“But you’re not alone anymore. Not in any of this. We figure it out together. You and me.” closed my eyes, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
His answer was immediate. “Yes. Because we have to.”
I wanted to believe that.
I needed to.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward-it was heavy with things unspoken. Questions we didn’t have answers to. But his arm stayed around me. His heartbeat stayed steady beneath my palm.
A knock shattered it.
Nate stiffened. I pulled away reluctantly, tugging his shirt back down around me as he stood and crossed the room. He opened the door just enough to take the folded slip of parchment that had been slid under it.
He read it. His face darkened.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
He turned slowly.
“It’s from Bastain,” he said. “He wants to see you.”
My chest tightened. “Now?”
Nate nodded. “Alone. Before first bell.”
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*Jiselle*
I didn’t ask Nate where he thought I was going. I just slipped on one of his oversized hoodies, tied my boots tighter than they needed to be, and left the dorm before sunrise. The corridors were quiet-too quiet. That kind of sacred silence that only ever existed before the academy woke up. Before blades clashed in the courtyard and instructors barked orders like gods of war.
But even in that stillness, my heartbeat was too loud. Every step echoed in my chest, every breath caught on the jagged edges of last night’s truth.
They want to kill me.
The observatory Bastain mentioned in the note wasn’t even marked on the school map. It was a relic of the old academy- used by former Headmasters to track celestial cycles. Forgotten by most. Hidden beneath the western tower, down a passage lined with crumbling stone and rusted sconces that hadn’t held flame in years.
It smelled like dust and secrets. Like a room that remembered more than it ever said.
Bastain was already there.
He stood with his back to me, staring up through the glass dome at the fading stars. The morning light crept in like a shy visitor, barely brushing the curve of his shoulder. He looked older in that moment. Not just tired-but worn. Like something had been clawing at him in silence.
“Close the door,” he said without turning.
I did.
We stood in silence for a while, the air between us heavy with things unsaid. Finally, he turned.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said, voice low.
“You told me to come.”
“I meant that you shouldn’t have to be alone,” he corrected. “But yes. I needed to speak with you before anyone else could.” There was something in his eyes. Not the usual calm, collected mask of the head of combat. This was different. This was fear.
I folded my arms. “What’s going on?”
Bastain walked toward an old desk near the far wall, dragging out a worn leather-bound book from beneath a panel I didn’t even realize was a compartment. He set it on the desk carefully, like it might break if handled wrong.
“There’s a faction forming within the council,” he said. “One that believes… you’re too dangerous to wait for.” My blood chilled.
“They want to kill me before the Solstice,” I said flatly.
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
“How many?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Enough to be dangerous. Not enough to act openly. Yet. That’s why we’ve been stalling. Carrow and I-“
“You’ve been protecting me.”
He nodded. “Misleading them. Rewriting reports. Recommending observation over action. But that leash is tightening. They want a decision soon. And I can’t give them one. Not without giving them you.”
My knees almost buckled.
Bastain moved then, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit. I did, numbly, my eyes never leaving the book.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Your inheritance,” he said grimly.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It belonged to the last Ethereal.”
The world tilted.
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