Chapter 5: Primal Tension
1259 Words
Caroline didn’t remember deciding to fight.
One second, she was standing in the center of the ring, claws still out, Rylan’s blood on her fingertips, the pack staring at her like she was a bomb with a lit fuse.
The next second, she was moving.
Not toward the exit.
Toward Jackson.
He didn’t flinch when she lunged.
He caught her wrists mid-air—hard, unyielding—and spun her. Her back slammed against the side of a matte-black Harley, the metal cold through her thin shirt. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs, but it didn’t stop the rage.
She snarled.
Teeth bared.
Claws flexed.
Jackson leaned in.
His body pinned hers—chest to chest, hips to hips, one thick thigh shoved between her legs to keep her from kicking. His hands transferred to her shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to remind her he could break bones if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
He just held her there.
Staring.
Breathing hard.
His scent flooded her—leather, smoke, motor oil, pine, and underneath it all something darker, hotter, male. It clashed with hers—blood, forest, venom, fear—and the collision was electric.
She felt it in her teeth.
In her spine.
In the place between her thighs that had no business waking up right now.
“Get off me,” she hissed.
Jackson didn’t move.
His eyes—dark brown, almost black—locked on hers. The scar across his brow pulled tight when he spoke.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“No. You’re panicking.” His voice dropped lower, gravel and smoke. “And if you don’t get it under control, you’re going to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
She bared her teeth again. “Like you?”
“Like Rylan.” He tilted his head toward the side of the ring where Rylan was still holding a rag to his throat, blood seeping through. “Or Hunter. Or Selene. Or me.”
The mention of the others cut through the haze a little.
She hated that it did.
She hated more that he was right.
Her chest heaved. Each inhale dragged more of his scent into her lungs. Each exhale pushed hers back at him—wild, cursed, angry.
The bond between them pulled taut.
Not gentle.
Not sweet.
Like a chain with barbs.
She felt it wrap around her ribs, hook into her spine, tug until she couldn’t tell where her heartbeat ended, and his began.
Jackson’s pupils blew wide.
He felt it too.
His grip on her shoulders tightened—not to hurt, but to anchor.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”
“I don’t want to breathe,” she spat. “I want to rip something apart.”
“I know.”
His thumb brushed the side of her throat—barely a touch, but it sent fire down her spine.
She hated that too.
She hated how her body arched toward him without permission.
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“Because I’ve been there.”
His voice was rougher now. Thicker. The wolf behind his eyes was awake and interested.
“I was bitten too,” he said quietly. “Not Nightfang. Something else. Something that wanted to eat me from the inside out. I spent three weeks chained in a basement trying not to kill my own pack.”
Caroline’s breath hitched.
She hadn’t expected honesty.
She hadn’t expected anything from him except orders.
His thumb stroked again—slow, deliberate.
“I know what it feels like,” he continued, “to wake up and not recognize the thing looking back in the mirror. To want to tear the world apart just so it stops hurting.”
Her claws flexed against his forearms.
He didn’t flinch.
“I know what it feels like to be afraid of your own hands.”
She stared at him.
Really stared.
Not at the scars.
Not at the muscle.
At the man underneath.
The one who’d dragged her in here instead of leaving her to die in the woods.
The one who’d just watched her nearly slit Rylan’s throat and hadn’t shot her on sight.
The one whose scent was drowning her.
She swallowed.
Hard.
“Then help me,” she said. Voice cracked. Barely audible.
Jackson’s eyes darkened.
He leaned in until his forehead touched hers.
Their breaths mingled.
Hot.
Fast.
“I will,” he said.
Then he kissed her.
Not gentle.
Not tentative.
He kissed her like he was claiming something that had always been his.
Lips hard. Teeth sharp. Tongue demanding.
She kissed back the same way.
Angry.
Desperate.
Needy.
Her claws sank into his shoulders—not to hurt, but to hold on.
He groaned into her mouth.
The sound vibrated through her chest.
The pack was still watching.
She didn’t care.
Neither did he.
He pressed her harder against the bike. The metal dug into her spine. His thigh shifted higher between her legs—deliberate pressure that made her gasp.
She bit his lip.
He growled.
The sound rolled through her like thunder.
She felt it between her thighs.
Felt it in her teeth.
Felt it in the place where the curse lived, and the bond burned.
He broke the kiss first.
Forehead still pressed to hers.
Breathing ragged.
“You’re mine now,” he growled.
The words hit her like a slap.
She snarled back—low, feral, instinctive.
“I trust no one.”
Jackson smiled against her mouth—slow, dangerous, nothing kind in it.
“You will.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
Silver eyes met brown.
The bond snapped tighter.
She felt it coil around her heart.
Felt it hook into her spine.
Felt it promised things she wasn’t ready to hear.
Then—
A sharp whistle from the far side of the warehouse.
Hunter’s voice—urgent, low.
“Razor.”
Jackson didn’t look away from her.
“What?”
“Crescent scouts. Three of them. Just inside the perimeter. They’re watching.”
Caroline went still.
Jackson’s jaw locked.
He leaned in one last time—lips brushing her ear.
“Stay here,” he breathed. “Don’t move.”
She grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
Her claws pricked his skin.
He paused.
Looked down at her hand.
Then back at her face.
She didn’t let go.
“I’m coming with you.”
Jackson studied her for a long heartbeat.
Then he nodded—once.
“Fine.”
He turned to the pack.
“Mount up.”
Bikes roared to life.
Caroline released his wrist.
Her claws retracted—slow, reluctant.
She followed him to his Harley.
He swung a leg over.
Held out a hand.
She took it.
He pulled her on behind him.
Her arms wrapped around his waist—tight, possessive, angry.
His back was warm against her chest.
The engine growled beneath them.
He twisted the throttle.
The bike shot forward.
The pack followed—engines screaming into the night.
Caroline pressed her face to Jackson’s shoulder.
Breathed him in.
Leather. Smoke. Wolf.
And something new.
Something hers.
She didn’t trust it.
She didn’t trust him.
But right now—right here—with the wind tearing past and the scouts waiting in the dark—
She didn’t care.
Because for the first time since Greyson’s rejection,
She wasn’t running away.
She was riding toward something.
And whatever it was,
it wore Greyson’s face.
- Writer
