Chapter 2
1019 Words
She should have pulled away when Nicholas’s grip tightened around her wrist, should have turned and disappeared into the crowd before she lost herself to him completely.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she let him lead her—past the VIP section, through a sleek black door, into a private lounge that smelled of expensive whiskey and leather. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, she felt it.
The shift. The change in control.
Nicholas Wolfe wasn’t just powerful in business—he commanded the space around him. And now, she was in his domain.
He didn’t speak right away. He simply stood there, his dark gaze devouring her as he poured himself a drink.
Elara’s pulse pounded. She needed to say something—anything to break the tension.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, though the words felt weak even as they left her lips.
Nicholas smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “And yet, you are.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “I don’t belong in your world.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight.” He took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down and stalking toward her. “Tell me, Elara, do you always lie to yourself?”
She stiffened. “I’m not lying.”
Nicholas stopped just inches from her. His scent wrapped around her—rich, intoxicating, dangerous. “Then why aren’t you running?”
Because she couldn’t.
Because something about him—his voice, his presence, his raw, unapologetic dominance—made her body betray her.
Elara swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
His smirk disappeared. In one smooth motion, he closed the distance, his fingers grazing her jaw as he tilted her chin up.
“I want what’s already mine,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched. “I’m not—”
Nicholas’s lips brushed against hers, a ghost of a touch, a tease. “Not yet.”
Before she could respond, he claimed her.
The kiss was pure possession. Deep, demanding, undeniable. His hands slid into her hair, tilting her head to take more, to taste more, as if he had no intention of letting her go.
Elara melted, her hands gripping his shirt, her body betraying her completely. Every rational thought burned away as Nicholas pressed her against the wall, his body solid, his touch unrelenting.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathless. Shaken.
Nicholas traced a finger down her cheek, his dark eyes gleaming with control. “You feel this,” he murmured. “You belong to me now, Elara. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
Her stomach twisted. She should fight back. She should push him away.
But she already knew the truth.
Nicholas Wolfe had just marked her.
And there was no escaping him now.
She was trapped between Nicholas and the cold, unforgiving wall. His body, firm and unyielding, pressed against hers like he was staking his claim. His scent—rich, dark, laced with danger—wrapped around her, drowning her in his presence.
Her mind screamed at her to fight. To resist. To remind him that she wasn’t his to claim.
But her body?
Her traitorous body trembled with need.
Nicholas’s fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down her arm, his touch featherlight yet possessive. “I can feel you shaking, Elara.” His voice was a velvet whisper, laced with dark amusement. “Are you afraid of me?”
She swallowed hard. “I should be.”
His smirk was slow, lethal. “But you’re not.”
She wasn’t.
Nicholas didn’t just make her nervous—he made her feel. Made her burn in ways she wasn’t ready for.
His fingers slid lower, brushing the pulse at her wrist. “Your heart is racing.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Tell me… is it fear? Or is it something else?”
Elara’s breath hitched.
She refused to answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
Nicholas’s grip tightened, his hand sliding to her waist, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. “You can run, Elara. You can fight me.” His lips hovered just over hers, their breaths mingling. “But we both know you won’t.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re arrogant.”
He chuckled. “No, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his voice dropping lower. “I’m certain.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
This is insane.
She should push him away. Now.
But when she opened her eyes, she was lost.
Nicholas’s gaze was molten heat—dark, demanding, devouring. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was waiting for her to admit what they both already knew.
That she wanted this. Wanted him.
The moment stretched, the tension between them razor-sharp.
Then, she cracked.
With a shaky exhale, she gave in.
Nicholas didn’t wait.
He crushed his lips against hers, his hands gripping her like he was done pretending she had a choice. The kiss was raw, desperate—nothing soft, nothing sweet.
Just fire. Possession.
Elara moaned against his mouth, her fingers fisting his shirt as he pressed her harder against the wall. He swallowed every sound, every protest she didn’t voice, his tongue claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.
She was his.
His teeth grazed her lower lip before he bit down, just enough to make her gasp. “You taste like a f*****g sin,” he growled against her mouth.
Elara was shaking. Not from fear. Not anymore.
From need.
Nicholas pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb stroking her swollen lips. His expression was dangerous.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.
Elara’s lips parted, but no words came.
Because she didn’t want him to.
Nicholas’s smirk returned—dark, knowing. “That’s what I thought.”
Before she could react, he grabbed her hand and led her deeper into his world.
And this time, she didn’t fight him.
- Writer
