Chosen By Ruin

His Cursed World

XADEN

I can feel it- my wolf clawing beneath my skin, pacing, snarling, threatening to tear through my flesh to hunt and destroy.

But I’m not going to let it. Not tonight. I trudge through the staircase of the fourth floor, heading to the eighth, the building that’s off-limits.

But privately- not to me. I couldn’t wait to get in there.

The feral edge is closer than it had been in months, pressing hard against the thin control I have left.

But it had nothing to do with the blood I just shed. And everything to do with that girl.

Finn would have cost us all anyway.

Even while I had my fingers buried in his throat, while his blood spilled hot and fast over my skin, I could smell her across the hall.

I didn’t look.

I couldn’t dare. Not when it is that time of the month that Zyle, my wolf, craves blood and orgasm. It’s had blood before. Severally. But never the orgasm-- not when those girls we’ve had weren’t our choice.

The only orgasm we’ve ever gotten was given by my own hands.

“Go back and claim her, we want her.” Zyle says in my head, his growl one of deep desire, threatening to control me.

“f**k Off, Zyle. She’s not even our mate.” I take two steps at once.

He groans stubbornly, hating my dissaproval. “We’ve never been this lucky before. We love her scent. We want to claim…”

“Zyle,” I growl, fighting through the damning urge that’s threatening to control every nerve of my body. And Zyle isn’t helping.

But he’s not lying.

Her scent had already wrapped around my mind once today, on that field, and I had nearly lost control in front of everyone. That had never happened before. Not once.

Not with the five girls they pushed onto me.

Not with any woman.

Those had been nothing but bodies. Necessary and disposable.

Dead and wasted after the deed was done. Because I’m cursed.

My jaw tightens as I climb the stairs, my pace relentless now, boots striking each step harder than intended.

But her scent—Goddess.

It wasn’t just intoxicating. It was enchanting. Bewitching.

The last time I felt something close to this was years ago. But back then, it wasn’t s****l urge. I was little. It was a deep likeness that surged past what I could easily ignore.

I had discovered her through the window of her room. She was always by her window.

My parents had taken Darian and I to the human land for a short visit. Their friends had invited us for a ball night.

And while I was wondering around, I had discovered that little girl behind her window.

I would go there everyday just to catch a glimpse of her- till I finally grew the courage to approach her— with flowers I had plucked with my own hands.

My chest hurts at the memory.

No. I don’t allow myself to remember anymore. Because remembering leads to one truth I refuse to touch.

She’s dead.

And my father let it happen.

“Admit it. That wolf is special.” Zyle says, referring back to the girl with the mysterious scent.

My jaw clenches. “She’s not. You’re just horny.” I tackle. But we are both horny. Might I add- very.

Zyle persists stubbornly like a horny teenager, “We can feel she’s different. She wants us too.”

I stop entertaining Zyle. He’s not helping. I force my mental shield up and block him. I can’t hear his voice right now, but it’s still threatening to come out.

I clench my fists together as I finally reach the eight floor, stopping in front of that door. The very door where many wolves had been tortured to death under Alpha Tali, my father.

My breathing is uneven now, my control slipping in slow, dangerous cracks. My fingers fumble briefly with the key before I shove it into the lock and push the door open.

The room greets me like it always does. Hot atmosphere.

The walls are dark stone, veined with faint silver lines that catch the light like scars frozen into the structure. There are no windows. No warmth. Just a single overhead fixture that hums faintly when I flick it on.

And at the center of it are chains.

Dozens of them, made with silver.

They hang from the ceiling, coiled along the walls, waiting for me to touch.

This place and the c*****e are the wolves worst nightmare, but it meant the opposite to me.

This is the only place where I control myself from going feral.

The only place where I can lose control… without destroying everything.

Zyle stirs violently inside me. I lower my shield, and he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of it.

“We should hunt,” he growls, his voice thick and eager. “Let me out. I want violence.”

“No.” I oppose.

“You will kill us. Don’t touch those chains.”

“It’s better than killing the innocents.” I growl, my jaw tight.

I rip my suit off first, then my white shirt, the fabric sticking slightly to the drying blood on my skin. My muscles are tight, coiled with too much tension, too much heat.

The faint scars on my body that refuses to fade totally away comes to view. They remind me of everything I’ve gone through. I don’t regret having them. They let me live with the pain. The rage in me that threatens to burn everything at every chance it gets to breathe.

My trousers follow.

I stop at my shorts, which does nothing to hide how hard I am- enough to combust.

That little wolf’s vulnerable face from that morning on the field surfaces in my head. When she drew me close like she wanted me- no, needed me. The scent of her in heat, which had been nothing less of damning to my soul, refuses to leave. And it doesn’t help that I had scented her again when I dragged her into that shadowed corner earlier.

Something about how she stood up to me, telling me to f**k off, only made me want to do more than eliminate all boundaries and intrude her soul.

A harsh breath leaves my nose and my slightly parted lips. I’m ravenous. Like a f*****g animal.

I drag a hand through my hair, breathing hard, disgust curling in my chest.

This is because of her. This connection I feel…it should only happen between mates. Zyle didn’t confirm she’s our mate. And she’s not.

My mate won’t appear in such fragile-looking body.

But she’s something. I still don’t understand that fire or where it had came from. And whatever that is, I will find out.

Zyle snarls again. “We want her. Let’s take what we want.”

I ignore him.

Instead, I reach for the silver chains.