Eli
The rotting wood around the window crumbles under my desperate fingers.
I've been clawing at it for what feels like hours, prying at the rusted screws with the jagged edge of a splintered chair leg.
Every muscle screams. Every heartbeat pounds like a war drum in my skull. Cold sweat slicks my skin, but I can't stop. Won't stop.
The first screw gives and something vicious and hopeful unfurls in my chest.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, tasting copper, forcing myself to work slow. One careful turn at a time.
The bolt scrapes against the door and my blood turns to ice.
No. Not now. Please, fuck, not now.
The door explodes inward.
Ronan fills the frame like a nightmare made flesh.
His black shirt hangs open, revealing the intricate tattoos that map his chest like battle scars.
Sweat dampens his dark hair, making it stick to his temples.
But it's his scent that hits me like a physical blow. It floods the cabin, seeps into my lungs, makes my wolf cower and keen.
I stumble back from the window, the makeshift tool clattering to the floor like an accusation.
"I'm not-"
His eyes find the loose screw, the splintered wood, the evidence of my betrayal.
His pupils are blown wide, ringed with molten gold, and his breathing comes in slow, controlled drags.
"You're still trying to run from me." His voice is gravel and smoke, laced with something that makes my skin crawl and burn. Not just rage. Possession.
"I wasn't-" My spine hits the wall. Trapped. "You can't keep me in a fucking cage."
"Can't I?" He steps forward, deliberate as death, closing the door with a soft click that sounds like a coffin lid closing.
"You think you're strong enough to leave me, little pet?"
I open my mouth to spit venom, but his scent crashes over me again. Thicker now, more potent. My vision blurs. Heat licks through my veins like poison. My wolf whimpers, torn between submission and flight.
His nostrils flare. A growl rumbles from his chest, so low it vibrates through the floorboards. "You smell..." He stops, jaw working like he's chewing glass. "...like you're in heat."
The words hit me like a slap. My body responds before my mind can catch up. Pulse spiking, thighs clenching, a shameful rush of wetness between my legs.
He's on me before I can breathe, one hand slamming into the wall beside my head, the other gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises. His body cages me, all heat and muscle and barely leashed violence.
"Ronan-"
His mouth crashes into mine.
It's not a kiss. It's conquest. Teeth and tongue and the taste of him, smoke and blood and something addictive.
I shove at his chest, nails raking over skin, but his growl only deepens, a sound that makes my knees buckle and my core clench.
His hand slides from my hip to my throat, thumb pressing just enough to make me gasp, to make me tilt my head back and expose the mark he left on me.
"Mine," he snarls against my lips, then drags his mouth to my neck.
His teeth graze the bite, and lightning shoots through me, arching my back, making me cry out. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screams to push him away.
"Stop." The word breaks on a shuddered moan. "Ronan, please-"
He inhales against my skin like he's drowning and I'm air.
"Fuck, Eli..." His voice is wrecked, desperate. His body grinds against mine, measured and merciless, and I feel him there, thick and unyielding under the rough cloth. My treacherous body answers, rolling up to meet him.
"You smell ready for me," he whispers, teeth scraping again, making me gasp. "Like you want me to bend you over and make you take every inch."
The words are filthy, wrong, and they make me burn.
I claw at his shoulders, but his grip tightens, pinning me harder against the wall.
The rut is close. I can feel it in the tremor that runs through him, in the desperate edge to his movements, in the way his control fractures with each breath.
"Ronan," I manage, voice cracking. "You're losing it."
He growls against my throat, the sound raw and feral. "I told you, little pet. You don't get to run from me."
His mouth claims mine again, brutal and hungry, and my body betrays me completely. Hips grinding up to meet him, lips parting under his assault, a low moan spilling free despite the fury burning in my chest.
Then, as suddenly as he attacked, he pulls back. His chest heaves. Sweat gleams on his skin. His hand leaves my throat slowly, fingers trailing fire.
"You smell like you want me to ruin you," he says, voice shaking with restraint. His eyes blaze gold, wolf barely contained. "But not yet. Not until I decide you're ready."
He steps back, leaving me gasping against the wall, legs weak, lips swollen and aching.
"Touch that window again," he says softly, "And I'll chain you bent over a chair next to my bed."
He leaves without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.
I want to run. I want him to come back and finish what he started. I hate myself for both.