Shattered Control

CELESTINE 

Mason is Killian’s Beta?

I can’t keep my eyes off him as he sat across the table from us. Killian is fixing himself after his brutal fight.

“Shit. I’m fucking hurt.”

“That’s what you get from indulging in those fights,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

I bite my lip, heart hammering, realizing exactly what I just said.

“What did you just say, little mate?” Killian growls.

Before I can react, his hand clamps under my chin, tilting my head up. 

I can feel Mason’s golden eyes on me. Watching. Smirking. And I couldn’t help but to be ashamed.

“Answer me.”

I swallow hard. “I—”

“Tsk,” he interrupts, releasing me, letting my chin drop. His storm-gray eyes flick to Mason.

“Of course… you know Mason, right?”

“Of course!” I blurt, a little too loud, panic clawing up my throat. “I mean…I saw him during your fight.” 

Killian’s lips curl into a dangerous smirk. “Speaking of my fight… how do you like it?”

Heat sears through me. I can’t possibly answer that. I was too focused on Mason I couldn’t even focus on him.

“It’s fine,” I answered instead. 

Mason chuckles low.

I don’t know why he’s teaming up with Killian now, or what happened over the past years, but everything about him has changed.

He looks… different. Mature. Dangerous. Confident.

I can’t help but eye his broad shoulders and oh god, those arms.

When did he get so hot? 

I’m still salivating when I freeze, feeling Killian’s hand settle on the back of my seat. 

Mason’s golden eyes flick to us, smirk sharp, amused.

I know exactly what he’s thinking. I was banished years ago—and now, here I am, making the same mistake again

“So… how was your first night?”

This time, I don’t even almost choke. 

A spurt of coffee slides down my chin, and my cheeks explode in heat.

“Mason!” I snap, voice high, flustered.

Both he and Killian chuckle low, dark, amused.

Ugh. Boys. 

And their stupid, infuriatingly distracting… dicks.

“She’s good,” Killian murmurs, voice rough, low, teeth grazing the words like a promise. “…I bet the whole pack heard her scream.”

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Tsk,” he interrupts, thumb lingering, eyes storm-dark and unrelenting. “Don’t lie, little mate. I know exactly how wet you are thinking about me right now.”

Mason’s golden eyes gleam, smirk sharp, clearly enjoying my fluster. “Wow… some things never change.”

What… what does he mean by that?

I open my mouth to ask—just one question, just one clue—but the universe apparently hates me, because the two of them suddenly shift gears like nothing happened.

Politics. Territory lines. Rogue attacks. Patrol schedules.

Seriously?

One second they’re threatening to combust the air with testosterone, and the next they’re negotiating about wars.

I sit there. For hours.

Listening to them measure their dicks in war strategies.

I’m zoning out, counting ceiling tiles, when—

Killian’s fingers brush my thigh.

My hand tightens around my cup like it could anchor me to sanity.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even glance at me. He just keeps talking to Mason like nothing is happening…

When his fingers inch slightly higher along my thigh, the subtle movement sends a jolt of heat straight to my stomach.

I feel my pulse spike, my cheeks burning. I cannot focus, cannot breathe properly, and every nerve in my body is screaming.

“I… I need to… uh…” I stammer, voice trembling. My hand grips my cup tighter. “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.”

Killian’s storm-gray eyes flick to me, smirk teasing, but he doesn’t stop. 

His fingers linger a second longer before he finally lets go, letting my thighs fall apart beneath the table.

I don’t wait. I push back from the table, nearly knocking over my cup, and bolt toward the bathroom.

Killian.

That fucking asshole.

I slam the door behind me, hands trembling as I lock it, and lean against the cool wood. 

My thighs clench almost without thinking, slick with my own reaction, and I freeze, shocked at how undone I am.

What the hell? 

Me? Like this? For him?

Oh Goddess, what is happening to me?

I press my hands to my mouth, trying to stop a gasp, trying to convince myself I’m imagining it. But the heat pooling there, the pulse hammering between my legs, the way my body aches… it’s real.

I stagger back, bracing against the sink, willing my heartbeat to slow, my mind to focus, anything to pull me out of this haze.

How is this even possible?

My right hand moves like it’s possessed.

I didn’t tell it to. I swear I didn’t.

But my fingers are already under my skirt, shoving the ruined lace aside, and the first touch against my clit rips a broken moan out of me so loud I slap my left hand over my mouth to trap it.

“Killian…”

Oh my God.

I’m drenched. Swollen. Burning.

Two fingers sink in like they belong there, like my body’s been waiting for any part of him it can get. 

My forehead presses hard against the mirror. I watch myself unravel—eyes fluttering, tears spilling, lips parting, chest heaving as heat coils through me like wildfire.

“Killian…” I whisper, voice trembling, a desperate, pleading sound. My body aches for him, hungry for his touch, for the way only he can claim me.

“Killian… please…” I choke out, my words ragged, my heart hammering.

It’s not enough. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, tears still leaking out the corners, and fuck myself like a shameless, desperate slut.

My hips buck wildly, chasing, grinding, riding my own hand like I’m trying to crawl inside the pleasure and never come out.

“Killian,” it rips out of me, a broken, guttural sob. “Killian, please, please, please—”

It’s the only word left in my head, spilling out over and over, louder, filthier, until I’m screaming it, begging it, my whole body shaking apart.

I’m so lost in it, so gone, eyes screwed shut, hips jerking, thighs soaked, pussy clenching greedily around my fingers, that I don’t hear the lock snap.

I don’t hear the door open.

I only feel the sudden cold air on my soaked thighs, and then his voice, low, amused, dripping with dark satisfaction:

“Enjoying yourself, little mate?”