Fractured Restraint

Willow’s POV

I stand in the middle of my cramped dorm, a towel wrapped loosely around my body, followed by the droplets of water tracing lazy paths down my collarbone, my thighs. 

I thought taking a shower would wash it all the way. Their scents. The way their dominance pressed into me during the drill, layer after layer, until I felt like I was drowning in it. 

Zandro’s scent still lingers in my nostrils, mixed with Ronan’s heat and fury. Lucien’s cool mint edge, Alaric’s steady warmth, Nyx following me like a goddamn shadow. Five pulls. Five hungers that my wolf won’t let me forget.

She paces inside me now, her restless claws scraping against my ribs, a low growl building in my chest.

No!

Get a hold of yourself, Willow!

My legs tremble as I move toward the bed, intending to collapse and force sleep to come. But skin feels too alive, too sensitive. Every brush of the towel sends sparks low in my belly, heat blooming where it shouldn’t. 

I drop the towel, and let it fall to the floor, reaching for my nightgown lying uselessly on top of the bed—loose shorts and a crop top that does nothing to hide the flush creeping over my chest.

BAM!

That’s when the door slams open.

No warning or knock on the door. My wolf instincts kick in and I turn instantly to know who dared to barge into my room by this time of the night.

Much to my surprise.

It’s him.

Zandro standing at the doorway, he fills the space like a storm cloud, broad shoulders straining against his black shirt, his eyes glowing under the dim light.

My heart stutters. “What the—”

He kicks the door shut behind him before I can finish my words, the luck clicking shut with a soft, ominous sound that echoes faintly through my room.

“You think you can disrespect me out there in front of everyone,” he says, voice low and rough, but nothing was funny about it. “And I’ll just let you go so easily like it didn’t happen?”

“I…I don’t ,” I swallow hard, my throat dry. The room feels smaller already, the walls closing in. “I don’t know what the hell you're talking about. And I didn’t refuse you. My wolf—”

“Your wolf,” he interrupts, stepping closer, “is part of you. And you defied me.” His gaze rakes over me, taking in the damp hair clinging to my shoulders, the shorts that ride up my thighs. 

For a moment, something dark gleams in his eyes. “ Do you have any idea what that does to my reputation in this academy? Huh?”

I lift my chin, even as my pulse races. “Maybe you should ask yourself why my wolf wouldn’t submit. Maybe it’s you.”

A laughter tears out of him—a short, dangerous sound that sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Brave words for a little thing like you,” he takes another step. He’s close now, close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him, My wolf stirs, not in fear—in challenge. She wants to push back, to test him.

“Get the hell out of my room, Zandro.” I force the words out, my voice coming out steadier than I feel. “This is my space.”

“Your space?” He tilts his head, a predatory smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “In Blackfang Academy, nothing is yours. Especially not after that stunt you just pulled out there.” 

He circled me slowly now, like a wolf sizing up prey. I turn to face him, refusing to let him at my back. 

“It’s easy for you to kneel for other wolves. Lesser wolves. But for me…” He stops in front of me again, towering, his body towering over me. “You fight it.”

I can see the vein pulsing in his neck, the way his fists clench at his sides. Restraint. It’s cracking. And gods help me, part of me wants to see it shatter.

“Admit it,” he continues, leaning closer until his mouth is inches from my ear, “Your wolf wants this…it wants me.”

“No.” The word rolls off my tongue, a lie even to my own ears. Heat coils tighter in my core, slickness gathering between my thighs. I press them together, hating every ounce of betrayal from my body.

“You’re such a terrible liar.” His nostrils flare, before I can part my lips to say another word his hands move—fast, but deliberate. His fingers curl around my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Possessing. 

His thumb presses against my pulse, feeling it hammer wildly. The touch is electric, sending jolts straight to my nipples, hardening them against the thin fabric of my top.

I gasp, my hands coming up instinctively to push him away. But they land in his shirt instead, pulling him closer. 

What the fuck are you doing, Willow!

My mind screams resistance, but my wolf surges forward, wanting more than I hated to admit.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he whispers, his free hand bracing on the wall behind me, caging me in. His body doesn’t touch mine—yet. “That’s what I do to you. And every time you try to fight it, it gets worse. Hotter.”

I try to shake my head, but his grip holds me steady. “Stop flattering yourself so much.”

“You’re going to have to accept it, Willow.” His eyes darken with desire the moment they lend on my top, “you will. One way or another.” 

His hips shift forward, just enough that I feel the hard length of him press against my stomach through his pants. Thick. Insistent. He inhales deeply, his nose brushing my temple. 

“Fuck, Willow. You’re dripping for me. I can smell how wet you are,” his voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper, edged with need. His free hand trails down—slow, torturous—hovering over the swell of my breast. His fingers tease the edge, tracing just under, brushing the sensitive skin there.

“S..stop.” I bit my lip hard, fighting the urge to arch into his touch, but it sounds more like a plea than a command.

“Why?” He presses closer, his thigh pressing between mine, parting them slightly. The friction against my core is agonizing, enough to make stars burst behind my eyes. “You want me to fuck you so badly…even your wolf says yes.”

Speaking of my wolf—she’s howling inside me now, her claws raking, demanding that I end this resistance and submit to him. I fight back, sudden and wild—and the air crackles with it. Zandro staggers back half a step, his eyes widening in shock.

 “What the hell are you?”

He growls in frustration, lust twisting his features as he surges forward again. Faster. Hungrier. His mouth hovers over mine—close enough I feel the heat of his lips, the brush of his breath against mine.

“Say it, “ he demands, his hand on my throat slides up, tilting my head back to expose the naked skin of my neck. “Tell me you want this so bad.”

I open my mouth—to deny, but before I can utter a word, his body pins me fully now. His thick length throbs against me, once, twice, sending waves of heat crashing between my thighs.

Then—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The sound cracks through the room like a whip, jolting us both.

“Willow?” Lucien’s voice filters through the door, calm and smooth, laced with faint amusement. “Are you in there?”

Zandro freezes, his body going rigid against mine. His eyes lock on mine, burning with warning. I open my mouth to answer, to say something—anything.

But before a single sound escapes, his hand clamps over my lips. Hard. Warm. Unyielding. His palm seals my mouth completely, fingers splaying across my cheek. His thigh still wedged between mine, holding me in place.

“Don’t say a fucking word.” He whispers.

“Willow,” Lucien calls again, his tone patient but carrying something darker underneath. “You know I can smell him on you from here right? Open the door.”