Rage

No touch

FLASHBACK CONTINUES

I keep going, slow. That’s how the best things need to be done.

Slowly.

Things like s*x, food, and revenge.

I let the desire for Nathalie build up inside me and spread through my body like a slow-burning flame, while I make her feel the same.

I touch her shoulders, slow. Gentle. The scent rising from her skin drives me insane. I slide my nose along her neck, then follow with my tongue until I reach the vein pulsing beneath her warm skin. She shivers again. I let out a low chuckle.

I grab her arms once more, feeling the silky warmth of her skin, and slide my hands downward. When I reach her wrists, I clasp them together behind her back.

I look at her face again. She stares at me with a kind of curiosity mixed with desire. Her eyelids are heavy, pupils blown wide in her brown eyes.

“Yes or no?” I ask softly.

“Yes. Come here,” she replies.

“Calm down, darling,” I whisper, gliding my nose along her cheeks until I’m close to her mouth.

Nathalie lets out a soft growl of protest. Without letting her move, I taste her lips slowly. They’re sweet, demanding.

The taste of her, mixed with wine and anticipation, leaves my throat dry. Her heart races, and every beat seems to echo inside me.

I tighten my grip on her wrists and run my other hand down her waist. Her curves are warm, alive beneath the fabric. She gasps, trying to move, but I don’t let her.

“This isn’t fair,” she protests.

“I know.”

I gently pull her nape, forcing her back to my mouth. She kisses me back like she wants to devour me.

“But I don’t want to just convince you. I want to make you beg.”

***

Somehow, we make it to the bed still dressed.

Nathalie’s dark, curly hair spreads across the pillows, her small body and dark blue dress standing out against the white sheets.

I grab the strands, tugging gently at the roots, and she purrs into my mouth from the mix of pain and pleasure. I pause the kiss for a moment.

“Hold on to the headboard,” I say softly.

Nathalie chuckles and stares at me, tilting her head. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“You’ll see the best I’ve got if you do what I say.”

“Oh, now you convinced me.”

She lifts her arms and grabs the headboard with both hands, looking at me expectantly.

Still watching her, I bring my hands to the back of her dress and slowly unzip it. I slide the straps off her arms and take a moment to admire the dark blue lingerie she’s wearing. It matches my clothes, her skin, and definitely this bedding.

I kiss her again as I unclasp her bra and slip it off too. Then, I trail kisses down her neck and collarbone, all the way to her breasts.

They’re soft, velvety, and firm. I lick and suck, slowly at first, then with more urgency. I bite her n*****s with just the right amount of pressure to make her moan and squirm with pleasure.

A deep growl escapes my throat as she writhes beneath me. My fangs threaten to extend, as if my body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and prey.

My hands explore her body, grabbing, caressing, making her shiver. I grip the edge of her panties and slide them carefully down her toned legs.

She’s wet, ready for me. I taste her with my tongue, sucking gently, making slow, circular motions. Nathalie moans louder, moving against my mouth. I keep going, switching up the rhythm and pressure until she bursts, trembling.

Nathalie’s skin shimmers under the dim light. It’s not sweat—it’s magic. A silvery glow pulses at her collarbones and spreads over her curves, as if each moan lights up a star in her body.

I move up, kissing every inch of her until I reach her mouth again, where the kiss turns violent; teeth, bites, gasps.

Then I feel Nathalie’s fingers on my back.

A cold shiver slashes down my spine. My stomach twists into a knot.

Her touch burns. I pull away with a growl and feel my eyes shift; amber turning into liquid gold, pupils narrowing. My vision shakes for a second. I need to breathe. I need to be myself again.

I take a deep breath and grab her wrist, moving it away from me.

“No touch,” I stress, voice tense.

She grabs the headboard again, but doesn’t hold back for long. Seconds later, her hands are already in my hair. I catch them and pull them away once more.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice harder.

Nathalie growls and stares at me. “You’re still fully dressed.”

“And I’m staying that way.”

“So I’m not gonna be the damsel who finally gets you to enjoy being touched?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll have to tie me to this bed if you don’t want me touching you.” She leans forward, wrists still caught in my grip. Her voice is soft and teasing.

“May I?” I whisper, lips inches from hers.

A faint smile curves her lips. “Go ahead.”

I reach out and open the drawer beside the bed. I look for a second at the collection of velvet ribbons and pick a dark blue one, like the dress I just took off her. Nathalie follows my movements with her eyes, that blend of curiosity and desire still burning in her sharp gaze.

I tie her wrists to the headboard. Now, certain she won’t touch me, I indulge even more in her body. I cradle her breasts in my hands while I suck on them, circling her n*****s with the tip of my tongue. I lick and bite every inch of skin along her ribs, stomach, and waist. Then I go back to the wet entrance between her legs.

Nathalie moans, cries out, and writhes as she unravels into one orgasm after another. I’ve been painfully hard for a while now and I can’t hold back anymore.

But part of me stays cold.

I can’t let go completely. Not with her. Not now.

I unzip myself, roll on a condom quickly, grab her firmly by the waist, and sink into her slowly, feeling every inch of myself being swallowed by her.

The moment I’m fully inside her, a low growl rumbles in my throat. The wolf in me wants to dominate, to claim, to make it clear she’s mine, even if she isn’t. Not really.

I feel the heat building at the base of my spine. My muscles tense. The skin under my shoulders tingles, and for a second, I almost let my claws come out. Almost.

Once I’m all the way in, I wait a few seconds, give her time to adjust to my size, and start moving slowly, long and deep strokes. Nathalie pulls against the ribbon tying her to the headboard, bites her lips, and moves her hips with mine.

She moves with supernatural grace, like her body doesn’t fully belong to this plane. And me? I’m the storm. The instinct. The bite of desire. When I bury myself in her, it’s like two opposing forces colliding, starving.

She moans, and my response isn’t human. A hoarse growl escapes from deep in my chest, wild, primal. My jaw clenches, canines growing. I need to control myself. Not yet.

As much as I want to speed up and reach my own climax, I haven’t done everything I promised.

She hasn’t begged yet.

So I keep moving at a torturous pace. Every time I sense Nathalie getting close to coming, I stop, making her groan in frustration.

She’s panting with desire, face flushed, eyelids nearly shut. I hear her voice, so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

“Please.”

I smile against her lips, cupping the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t hear you.”

She groans again, bites my lower lip. “Please, Liam! Make me come!”

Her words sound like an ancient calling. Like a prayer. The wolf inside me lifts its head, ravenous. I growl. Not out of threat, but in response.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I wrap my arms around her and thrust deeper, harder. I lose part of the fight against my instincts and bite the base of her neck. I make sure not to bite too hard. I pick up the pace, feral now, while holding her soft body in my arms between kisses and bites.

She comes again. Then again.

My body responds. Pleasure rips through me.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then, the weight.

The emptiness crawls back in.

As always.

Once I finally calm down, I glance over Nathalie’s sweaty, spent body. I undo the knot at her wrists. She lowers her arms but doesn’t touch me.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper in her ear.

“You’re done already?”

“Of course not. The night’s just getting started.”

***

The night hangs heavy over Steelhaven. It’s almost three in the morning when I leave Nathalie asleep in the sheets still warm with sweat and spell after hours of fierce s*x.

I put on a coat, still admiring her beautiful body tangled in the sheets, the scent of magic and sweat lingering in the air.

I head up to the rooftop, where I find Oliver sitting on the edge of the building, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey beside him and another still sealed. He watches the city in silence. His dress shirt is unbuttoned, revealing most of his chest and abs.

I sit beside my careless friend without saying anything at first, admiring the sleeping city below us.

Steelhaven never truly sleeps.

But right now, it feels like it's holding its breath.

The golden lights of the skyscrapers shimmer like urban constellations. They reflect on mirrored windows. On magical signs floating in front of commercial towers.

Enchanted fireflies drift lazily between strands of arcane energy, and down below, the streets still breathe, dotted with cars, neon beams, and the occasional glow of a night patrol.

But there’s a stillness in all that chaos.

As if the city, even awake, is dreaming.

Steelhaven is a monster of concrete, glass, and spellwork that never closes its eyes…

But sometimes it dozes off.

I grab the sealed bottle of whiskey, pop the cap, and take a long swig. The bitter taste doesn’t come close to what I carry inside.

“You’re gonna freeze with that shirt open like that.”

“Don’t worry. The whiskey won’t let me.”

“How was your night?” I ask, quietly.

“Damsels don’t kiss and tell,” Oliver shoots back, voice low and slow, still staring at the city.

“Smartass.”

“What can I say? A few hours of wild elven s*x and I got my alibi. You?”

“I guess I could say the same.”

What happened with Nathalie? Nothing. Nothing unexpected. Pleasure. Absence. A taste of iron in my soul. It’s always the same. For me. For him.

Oliver lets out a short laugh, but it fades quickly.

“It never gets better, does it?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice, that quiet desperation, that rips my heart in half. “The emptiness after.”

“No, Oliver,” I reply, staring at the cold shimmer of a magical helicopter crossing the sky. “Not after what they took from us. What’s left... doesn’t feel the same anymore.”

I take a few more long gulps of whiskey, letting the drink burn down my throat and stomach like it could cleanse me. Of everything. Oliver does the same.

“We were used again. The difference is, this time, we used them too,” I say.

Oliver nods slowly, never taking his eyes off the city. “Feels like, even after all this time, nothing’s changed.”

“But it has, Oliver. And we’ll make it change even more.” I turn to him. “Our reason might be dirty now, but it’s still ours. And it’s just. We’ll keep doing what it takes. Until the end.”

He looks at me, his green eyes vacant, dull, drunk. I could worry about how close he is to the edge, but I know elves have a cruel kind of balance. He wouldn’t fall even if he wanted to.

He raises his bottle of whiskey to me in a toast.

“To the changes we’ve made… and the ones still to come.”

I raise mine too.

“To the changes. And what they cost us.”

PRESENT DAY

I finish my glass of wine as I remember what happened that day. I glance at my Beta, lazily working at the desk beside me. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember. Even before everything that happened to us. I made him a promise, and I kept it, and he’s stayed by my side through it all.

I think about the s*x with Nathalie, about the way I controlled every impulse, refusing to fully give in. The pleasure happened... but I was on the outside. For me and for Oliver, s*x hasn’t been about pleasure for a long time. Not after what they did to us and what they made us do.

For us, s*x is performance. It’s defense.

Afterward, there’s only the echo.

A body still warm, but inside, everything’s cold.

We’ve been broken in so many ways it’s simply impossible to piece ourselves back together.

But then, I think of Evalyn.

Rumor has it that s*x between wolves with a partner bond is something else.

Would it be different with Evalyn?

Or would pleasure with her still leave behind only the bitter taste of guilt, the weight of everything I can’t feel anymore? Would I end up staring at the ceiling, trying to escape the disgust I feel for myself all over again?

I place the empty glass on the table with a firm thud, knowing I won’t have answers to any of those questions anytime soon.

Evalyn might be my mate, but that doesn’t change anything.

I can’t give in.

I won’t give in.

Because giving in means forgetting.

And I promised myself I would never forget again.

The bond with her might be real. Might be strong.

But it pulls in the wrong direction.

Toward her.

And I still have too many ghosts to bury before I deserve anything close to peace.

We still have scores to settle. Blood to claim.

And you can’t lie down with redemption while the monsters who made you still breathe.

I look at Oliver, and he’s already staring at me, like he’s read every thought I tried to hide. He knows.

We both do.

We’re not victims.

We’re not broken men trying to heal.

We’re weapons.

Loaded.

Aimed.

I stand up, walk to the window, and for a second, I let the city flood my thoughts.

But it offers no answers.

Only silence.

And until the last worm in this network burns, there’s no room for anything else.

Not desire.

Not relief.

Not hope.

Only mission.

Only blood.

Only fire.

Even if it costs me everything.

Even if it costs me… her.