Chapter 12: The Battle She Couldn’t Win
1004 Words
LENA
"I don't need him. I DON'T need him. I don't need him...?"
Lena repeated the words over and over in her head, gripping the edge of the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Her body was on fire.
A deep, aching heat coiled beneath her skin, relentless, consuming, cruel.
It had started the second he left—the second he stole his warmth away, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence.
She had thought it would fade.
That if she just held on long enough, it would pass.
That she could fight it.
But it wasn’t stopping.
It was getting worse.
Her breathing was uneven, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged thing.
For the Goddess sake, she was shaking.
Not from fear.
Not from rage.
From need.
Lena clenched her teeth, forcing herself to take slow, steady breaths.
This was the bond.
This was nothing more than the Goddess-damned mate bond trying to sink its claws into her, trying to make her give in.
It was a lie. A trick.
And she wouldn’t fall for it.
She wouldn’t.
Her body didn’t belong to him.
Her soul didn’t belong to him.
She had spent her whole life being free, and she wouldn’t let him take that away from her.
She just had to last.
She just had to endure.
She could fight this.
She could.
But as the minutes dragged on, the pain sharpened.
Her pulse was a frantic, erratic rhythm.
Her skin was too hot.
Her breaths were too short.
And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Valerian.
His scent, his heat, the way his golden eyes burned with hunger and patience.
The way he had touched her.
The way he had stopped.
The way he had left her ruined and wanting, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Her entire body throbbed.
A sharp, desperate ache that wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t ease, wouldn’t let her think of anything except him.
No.
No, no, no—
Lena growled.
Her nails bit into her palms as she forced herself to stand, as she stormed across the room and threw the door open.
She wasn’t going to him.
She was going to leave.
She had to.
If she stayed, she would lose.
And she refused to lose.
Lena moved fast, nearly running down the darkened hall, her breath sharp, her vision blurred with heat and frustration.
She would leave.
She would escape.
She—
She wouldn’t make it.
She knew that before she even reached the door.
Because before she could take another step, before she could even reach for the handle—
He was there.
A shadow, a force, a presence that stopped her cold.
Lena froze.
Her pulse slammed into her ribs.
Slowly, she turned.
And Valerian—
Valerian was watching her.
Leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed, golden eyes glowing.
He didn’t look angry.
Didn’t look amused.
He just looked… patient.
Patient and knowing.
As if he had expected this.
As if he had been waiting.
Lena’s breath hitched.
"Going somewhere?"
His voice was dark velvet, smooth and deep, curling around her like smoke.
She swallowed hard.
Her throat was too dry.
Her body was too hot.
She forced her lips to move.
"Let me pass."
Valerian tilted his head, his gaze raking over her.
"You’re shaking."
Lena clenched her fists.
"I’m fine."
His lips curved.
"Liar."
She growled.
Valerian pushed off the wall, moving slowly, deliberately, like a predator savoring the hunt.
She tried to step back.
Tried to put distance between them.
But she was already trapped against the door.
Valerian stopped just before her, his heat licking at her skin, his scent wrapping around her like a drug.
Lena’s fingers dug into the stone behind her.
"You thought you could fight this," he murmured, lifting a hand, brushing a single finger down her arm.
Lena flinched.
Not from pain.
From how good it felt.
Valerian hummed.
"How long did you last?" he asked softly.
His fingers slid lower, his touch agonizingly light.
"A minute?"
His thumb skimmed her hip.
"Five?"
His lips brushed her temple, his breath warm.
"Did you really think you could win?"
Lena’s eyes burned.
She wanted to fight.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to deny this.
But she couldn’t.
Because he was right, and they both knew it.
Valerian exhaled softly, his lips trailing lower, hovering just above the frantic pulse at her throat.
"You were always going to come to me," he whispered.
Lena shuddered.
She tried to shake her head, but he caught her chin, tilting it up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"I won’t beg," she rasped.
Valerian smiled.
Slow. Dark. Dangerous.
"You will."
And then he kissed her.
Not gently.
Not softly.
It was fierce, deep, claiming—
And Lena—
Lena broke.
Because she kissed him back.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like she needed him to breathe.
Her hands curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, her body molding against his, chasing his heat, chasing the only thing that could ease the ache inside her.
And Valerian let her — for a moment.
For a single, blissful, maddening moment.
But then he pulled away.
Lena whimpered.
Actually whimpered.
Valerian’s golden eyes burned, his breathing heavy, his grip tightening on her waist.
"You can fight me," he murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her jaw.
His fingers dragged over her ribs, teasing, taunting, not giving her enough.
"You can fight this."
His lips brushed her throat, his teeth grazing her skin.
"But in the end…"
His hand caught her wrist, pinning it above her head.
"In the end, you’re mine."
And this time, when he kissed her—
Lena didn’t fight it.
She gave in. Completely. Utterly.
She lt herself melt into the sea of pleasure, wanting, and agony. Enjoyed the moment of being taken by his mate, without thinking of wrong or right.
And in that moment, she knew, with bone-deep certainty—
There was no escaping him now.
- Writer
