Chapter 1
931 Words
She should have shoved him away, fought against the magnetic pull that had her drowning in his presence. But Nicholas Wolfe was the kind of man who didn’t allow escape.
He was everywhere. Surrounding her. Consuming her.
His fingers pressed into the small of her back, firm yet teasing, while his other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His scent—dark, expensive, and wicked—wrapped around her like an invisible chain.
“You can leave,” Nicholas murmured, his lips just inches from hers, his voice a deep, seductive promise. “But we both know you won’t.”
Elara’s pulse thundered. She hated how right he was.
The way he looked at her, like she was something he’d already decided to own, made her stomach tighten with a mix of fear and anticipation. Nicholas wasn’t just any man—he was the kind of man who took what he wanted.
And right now, that was her.
Before she could second-guess herself, his lips crushed against hers.
It wasn’t a kiss—it was a possession.
Nicholas kissed like he did everything else in life: ruthlessly, without hesitation, without mercy. His teeth grazed her lower lip before he bit down, just enough to make her gasp. His tongue swept into her mouth, deepening the kiss, demanding she give him everything.
Elara was burning. Melting.
Her hands gripped his suit jacket, desperate for something to hold on to as he dominated her senses. The heat between them was dangerous—an inferno she had no control over.
Then, just as suddenly as he had kissed her, Nicholas pulled back. His grip tightened in her hair, forcing her to keep looking at him.
“I don’t do soft, Elara,” he murmured, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger and something even more dangerous—possession. “I take. I own. And I don’t share.”
Her breath hitched. “I’m not something to be owned.”
His smirk was slow, lethal. “Aren’t you?”
Elara should have slapped him. Should have walked away. But the way he said it, the way he looked at her, made her tremble with something far more dangerous than anger.
Desire.
“Do you always get what you want?” she challenged, her voice shaky.
Nicholas chuckled. “Always.” He trailed his fingers down her arm, slow and deliberate, before leaning in, his lips brushing against her ear. “And I want you.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
She knew this was a mistake.
But when Nicholas Wolfe wanted something—there was no escaping him.
She was already marked and the worst part? She wasn’t sure she wanted to put it out.
Nicholas Wolfe stood before her, all power and dominance wrapped in a perfectly tailored black suit. His jaw was sharp, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made her knees weak. He wasn’t just dangerous—he was lethal.
And somehow, she was caught in his crosshairs.
The club’s music pulsed around them, but Elara barely heard it. The only thing she could focus on was the man in front of her—the man who had just kissed her like he was branding her, like he was making it clear she belonged to him.
Her body still burned from his touch, but her mind screamed at her to walk away. To run before it was too late.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to take a step back. “This… whatever this is, it’s not a good idea.”
Nicholas didn’t move. He simply tilted his head, his smirk slow and knowing. “Says who?”
“Says me,” she shot back, trying to ignore the way her skin tingled under his gaze. “I don’t belong in your world.”
His smirk deepened. “You keep saying that, and yet… here you are.”
Damn him.
She turned to leave, but before she could take another step, Nicholas’s hand wrapped around her wrist—firm, unrelenting. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to tell her one thing:
He wasn’t letting her go.
“Elara.” His voice was a command, dark and velvet-smooth. She shivered despite herself. “You can walk away right now. But if you stay…” He pulled her closer, his grip tightening just slightly. “I won’t stop.”
Her breath hitched.
Nicholas wasn’t asking for permission. He was giving her a choice—one she knew would change everything.
“Tell me to let you go,” he murmured, his lips just inches from hers. “Say it, and I will.”
Elara’s heart pounded. The smart choice, the safe choice, was to say the words.
But she couldn’t.
Because some dark, reckless part of her wanted to know what would happen if she didn’t.
And Nicholas saw it.
The moment of hesitation. The silent surrender.
His smirk vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous. Without another word, he pulled her through the crowd, his grip on her unyielding. People moved out of his way instinctively—everyone knew who he was.
Elara should have protested.
But she didn’t.
Not when he led her up the stairs, past the VIP section, through a sleek black door.
Not when he pressed her against the wall the second they were alone, his body pinning hers in place.
And not when his lips crashed against hers again, this time with even more hunger, more possession.
Elara should have run.
But instead…
She let Nicholas Wolfe devour her.
- Writer
