Chapter 9: Breaking Her, Bit By Bit
806 Words
LENA
She should have known better.
She should have known he would never let her win.
Her breath was ragged, her body trembling as she pressed herself against the tree, trying to will away the unbearable heat, the ache, the need.
She had run.
She had fought.
And for a moment, just a moment—she had thought she could win.
But then he had spoken.
Just her name.
Just a whisper.
And it had ruined her.
Now, he was here.
Too close.
Too much.
But he didn’t touch her.
Not yet.
Not nearly enough.
That was the worst part.
VALERIAN
She was trembling.
Not from fear.
No, not fear.
From something far more dangerous.
Something she didn’t want to admit.
He had given her a chance.
Let her fight.
Let her believe she had a choice.
But now?
Now, he was going to show her.
How wrong she had been.
How powerless she really was.
He moved closer, slow, deliberate, enjoying the way her breath caught in her throat.
She tried to press further into the tree, as if she could escape him, as if she could stop what was coming.
Valerian smirked.
"Did you really think you could run from me?"
Her jaw clenched. "I can damn well try."
He exhaled a slow, amused breath.
"Brave," he murmured. "But foolish."
He reached out—
And then stopped.
His fingers hovered just over her skin, not quite touching.
Not yet.
She stiffened, her eyes flashing with defiance, but her body—her body betrayed her.
The way her breath hitched.
The way her pulse thundered beneath the surface.
The way she leaned forward, just slightly, just enough to chase the heat of his hand.
She didn’t even realize she had done it.
Not until his lips curled in satisfaction.
Lena sucked in a sharp breath, snapping back against the bark, her nails digging into the rough surface.
"Poor thing," Valerian murmured. "You thought I was going to touch you, didn’t you?"
Lena’s cheeks burned. "Go to hell."
He laughed.
A dark, rich sound that slithered down her spine.
Then—
He leaned in.
His lips brushed her ear.
His breath was warm, intoxicating.
"I already have you," he whispered. "So tell me, little wolf… who’s really in hell?"
Her entire body shuddered.
LENA
She wouldn’t break.
She refused to break.
But Goddess, he was making it impossible.
Because he still wasn’t touching her.
Just hovering.
Just waiting.
And that was worse.
So much worse.
Because her body wanted more.
Craved more.
And he knew it.
His fingers traced over the air near her skin, just barely there, never giving her what she needed.
He dragged his knuckles just above her collarbone.
Down her arm.
Across her waist.
Each time, stopping just before making contact.
Each time, she braced for it.
Each time, he denied her.
And it was driving her mad.
Lena’s breath came out uneven, shaking.
Her body burned, every nerve ending on fire.
She hated this.
Hated him.
Hated how badly she wanted him to touch her.
And still—he refused.
Valerian exhaled softly, his golden eyes dark with amusement, with satisfaction.
"Say it," he murmured.
Lena’s heart pounded.
"No."
His smirk deepened.
"Say it," he repeated, softer this time. "Say you need me."
Her throat tightened.
Her nails dug into the bark, her entire body on edge, burning, desperate.
But she wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
So she clenched her jaw, forced herself to meet his gaze, and spat out the only words she had left.
"I hate you."
For a moment, the amusement in his expression flickered.
For a moment, something darker, something more dangerous slid behind his golden eyes.
Then—
He leaned back.
And just like that, his heat was gone.
The warmth.
The torment.
The unbearable, exquisite tension.
Gone.
Lena’s stomach dropped.
Her entire body screamed in protest.
He took a step back.
Then another.
His voice was calm, cruel, deadly.
"Then you can suffer alone."
Lena’s breath hitched.
"No."
Valerian’s smirk was mocking.
"Something wrong, little wolf?"
Lena clenched her fists, her legs weak, trembling.
The ache was worse now.
Without him there.
Without his presence, his touch, his heat.
And he knew it.
He knew exactly what he had done.
Because the bond wasn’t just desire.
It was agony.
And he had just left her drowning in it.
On purpose.
So she would break.
So she would crawl to him.
So she would beg.
Lena’s hands shook.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her entire body was in torment, fire, agony.
And yet—
She still managed to lift her chin.
To meet his eyes.
To whisper the last shred of defiance she had left.
"Go to hell, Valerian."
He chuckled.
And then, with one last mocking, satisfied glance, he turned—
And walked away.
- Writer
