Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Everything was surging to the surface, smothering and severing, tumbling and flailing, crashing and corroding. The pull of the mate bond, the magic disintegrating in my veins, and my sinful need to be touched by him had power over both my body and my wolf's will. I was a fraying thread, attempting to hold myself in place as the threat of it all tore me apart.

Derrick mistakenly believed that I didn't want him, but in reality, my excessive desire for him was the issue.

His body no longer felt warm; instead, it was a frigid blast of heat that pinched at my flesh and made me feel terrified. The way his lips had stroked my neck, his tongue had grazed my pulse, and his teeth had finally given way to his fangs—all of these sensations left a lasting mark on my spirit. I had become a jumble of lust and loss because of the promise of his yearning to possess me.

I had feigned to be normal—to be an ordinary wolf in that moment—with no intention other than to claim her mate's mark. I'd envisioned the rush of exhilaration coursing through my veins as he punctured my skin, sealing our eternal soul bond. His features full of primal possession, I imagined how he would have gazed at me, taking me for everything that I was, but it wouldn't have ended there.

Our desire for one another would have increased tenfold as a result of what we had done. Half man, half wolf, Derrick would have torn my garment to pieces as he ate my flesh like he had been famished for decades. He refused to let me leave until he had completely destroyed me in his limousine's rear, tearing my thighs apart with more than just his fingers touching.

I pressed myself harder into the leather interior, my wolf howling and begging for me to do anything, my hunger for him pounding inside of me. As I braced my hands on the edge of my seat, the space between my thighs pulsated with a desire to be touched.

There were simply too many moving parts, too many intricate details, and too many poor choices. I would have allowed him to touch me as he pleased in this way. I would have let him watch me touch myself like this. As a result of my harsh remarks, he had instead left me, and I knew I deserved it.

I had no idea how I was going to save this night, as everything was going wrong in the worst possible way. I just wanted to act like everything was normal, but it felt like everything in the universe was trying to tell me that I wasn't.

The last of his smell wafted into my lungs, and I felt the emptiness of this car press against my chest. His leaving had caused my chest to ache, and I was breathing less deeply as I struggled to stop myself from having the breakdown I knew I was about to have.

The feeling of longing was becoming panic, and the panic was becoming defeat. My powers were pricking my skin, my wolf was gnawing at me to be freed, and it didn't help that I had no idea where I was outside of this ridiculous luxury car.

The area surrounding me was increasingly constricted as my hands moved to press against the coldness of the glass. I could feel my magic igniting at my fingertips as a panic attack seeped into my body from the inside out.

This could never happen again in the exact same way. I felt myself coming apart, and I had no control over my talents. It was more potent than before, laying the groundwork for future growth along my skeletal system and sowing the seeds of increased strength. I was running out of time, and this was a losing game, but the truth was poisonous, and I couldn't.

The door opened again just as my hand was furiously clutching at my throat, and I could feel myself shattering into bits.

I turned away from it, avoiding the escape that was being given to me, and felt my heart sink as light from outside crept into the dimly lit room. But the terror in my body appeared to subdue itself as the seconds went by and the breeze caressed my bare skin; my bones locked into place, as though my body was rebelling against the inevitable thoughts I had made up.

I was going to have to go without Derrick now that he had departed.

My fingers curled around the side of my seat again, away from the window, and I slowly raised my head to the light.

I sat stiffly in my seat, staring back at my mate, his hand stretching out for mine, and everything became silent, even the panic, the strain of my powers, and my wolf's pleas.

There was a deafening silence while he observed my condition with a merciful glance. The way he gazed at me relaxed my mind and body's grip on my survival instincts, making me feel like putty in his hands. His nostrils flared as he inhaled another breath of my frantic smell, but this time, it was loaded with more than just my want for him—it was laced with fear at how much I wanted him. His protective eyes swept over my body.

Despite the tension that pulsed between us, he held his hand. My own eyes narrowed to meet his; his shirt was so wrinkled that I wondered if he had taken it off quickly, but if that were the case, it could only indicate one thing. His hair was a tangle of curls on his head, completely lacking the sleek polished appearance he had assumed when he had exited the car. He had abandoned me and become his wolf.

He had returned after having left me.

"I shouldn't have done that." "It was a dirty move, but my wolf wanted, and I wanted," he soon conceded. His eyes glistened as he shook his head, directed at me.

He was having difficulty expressing himself and managing his emotions, but he felt compelled to accept responsibility for the events that transpired. However, it was me who was flawed and required an apology.

I put my hand in his before he could say anything more; it was a firm grip, strong enough to stop his blood flow if he didn't have the blood of a beast in his veins.

"Don't leave me like that again." The words had come out fast and frantic, but they felt empty in my chest because I knew he wouldn't be able to keep the promise I was asking him to keep in the end.

Derrick's eyes glowed with emotion, like a glimmer of color in a pitch-black sky.

He gave a single, conclusive nod.

I felt unworthy of him again because he was so confident in what he could accomplish for me. The way he was staring at me made me feel as harsh and icy as my mother, who had crushed and shattered me, and made me realize how unlovable I was when I was meant to be someone else. Love was never static; it could always change into hate, and once I stopped acting like fake, I knew he would detest me.