Chapter 11: Broken and Bound
1112 Words
LENA
Lena had spent the past two days locked away in her chambers, but no amount of solitude could quiet the storm raging inside her.
She wasn’t the same.
Not after what had happened.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the edge of the wooden table, her body still remembering the way Valerian’s hands had held her in place, how his presence had wrapped around her like a vice she couldn’t escape. She should have fought harder. She should have screamed, clawed, done something.
But instead, she had hesitated.
She had let herself burn beneath his touch, let herself drown in the fire he ignited within her. It disgusted her. It terrified her.
Because Valerian was the enemy.
He was the reason she was here, trapped in this place, forced to play a game she hadn’t agreed to. He was the reason she wasn’t standing at Kade’s side, wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
And yet…
Her stomach twisted.
She had dreamt of him last night.
The sensation of his hands, the weight of his body against hers, the sound of his voice curling around her like dark silk—gods, she had woken up gasping, her skin on fire, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Lena gritted her teeth and turned away from the table, as if moving could somehow shake off the memories. She couldn’t afford to lose herself to this. She wouldn’t.
His golden eyes gleamed under the dim candlelight, his posture relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at her. It was the same way he always did—like he already knew how this would end.
Lena hated him for it.
She hated that, deep down, she feared he was right.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
She could barely breathe.
The room was too hot.
Too small.
Or maybe it was him.
Maybe it was the way his body caged her against the cold stone wall, his heat sinking into her skin, branding her like fire.
Maybe it was the way his golden eyes watched her, so patient, so knowing, as if he could already hear her breaking.
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
But save me Goddess, it was getting harder.
Lena pressed her lips together, twisting against his hold, but his grip on her wrists didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened—just a little, just enough for her to feel the warning in it.
She wasn’t getting away.
Not this time.
"Are you done?" His voice was quiet. Almost amused.
Lena glared at him, chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths.
"Let. Me. Go."
Valerian sighed. "Always the same words."
He tilted his head, studying her, his lips curving in lazy amusement.
"You would think you’d come up with something new by now," he murmured. "Something more… convincing."
Lena’s pulse pounded, fury and something far more dangerous coiling inside her.
"I’ll never be yours," she hissed.
Valerian chuckled.
Low. Deep. Unbothered.
"Little wolf," he said, his fingers tracing down her arm, slow and deliberate, "you already are."
Lena flinched.
Not from the words.
From the way her body responded to them.
From the way his voice curled around her like dark silk, seeping into every raw, aching part of her.
No.
No, she wouldn’t give in.
She couldn’t.
She needed to fight—needed to push back—
Lena lunged.
Or at least, she tried to.
She barely moved an inch before Valerian spun her, pressing her front against the stone table behind them, his grip unrelenting.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her chest heaving as his heat curled around her from behind.
"Still fighting," he murmured, his breath brushing her neck. "Even when we both know how this ends."
Lena gritted her teeth, hating him.
Hating him for being right.
Hating herself for the way her skin tingled beneath his touch.
Valerian leaned closer, his nose brushing along the shell of her ear, breathing her in.
"Go on," he whispered. "Fight me again. Run. Try to hurt me."
His grip loosened. Just slightly. Just enough for her to believe she had a chance.
But she didn’t move.
She couldn’t move.
Because the second she did, she knew—she knew—he would catch her.
And she wouldn’t survive it.
Not this time.
Her throat tightened. "You—"
"You what?" he interrupted, his voice smooth as silk. "Hate me?"
His hand slid down her arm, his fingers brushing her waist, lingering just long enough to make her breath catch.
"Despise me?"
His lips barely grazed her pulse, making it thunder beneath his touch.
"Or is it something else?"
Lena squeezed her eyes shut.
No.
No, no, no.
She wouldn’t fall for this.
She wouldn’t let him win.
But her body—her traitorous, treacherous body—was already betraying her.
Already leaning into him.
Already craving more.
She shuddered, hating the warmth curling in her stomach, hating the way she was losing control.
And he knew it.
Gods, he knew it.
She felt the moment his lips curled into a smirk against her throat.
"You’re trembling," he murmured.
Lena jerked. "I hate you."
"You keep saying that," he mused, dragging his fingers lower. "But I wonder…"
His teeth scraped lightly over her pulse, making her gasp.
"Do you hate me enough to stop this?"
She froze.
A trap.
It was a trap.
Because if she moved, he would catch her.
If she fought, he would win.
And if she didn’t—
If she stayed right here, trembling beneath his touch—
Then she had already lost.
Her breathing shuddered.
Valerian’s hold tightened.
"Say it," he whispered.
Lena swallowed hard. "Say what?"
He turned her head just slightly, just enough for her to see his golden eyes burning into her own.
"Say you want me to stop."
Lena’s heart stopped.
She opened her mouth.
The words were right there.
But they wouldn’t come out.
They wouldn’t come out.
Valerian smiled.
Dark. Knowing. Victorious.
"I didn’t think so."
And then, he let go.
Lena stumbled forward, blinking in confusion.
The heat was gone.
The weight of him was gone.
She turned, chest heaving, pulse roaring—
He was leaning against the doorframe now, watching her with pure amusement.
Lena’s hands clenched.
"What—"
"You tried to trap me," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Now I’m returning the favor."
He turned to leave, his golden eyes flashing in the dim light.
"Let’s see how long you last without me, little wolf."
And then—
He was gone.
Leaving Lena standing in the middle of the room, burning, aching, shaking—
Completely. Absolutely. Ruined.
- Writer
