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Chapter 65
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2025-04-02 07:37:32
LayoHi everyone! Apologies for the late update – I’ve been feeling unwell, but I’m doing my best to update more. And… I’m excited to announce that my new book His Thief, His Curse will be out this week! Keep an eye on my profile for the release! Thank you all for your patience and support! :)
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Feral Desires Blind Desires—1
Note—This is a repetition of the first chapter of Blind Desires from the Author Note above. TATE I’D DRUNK TOO much. That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid, but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind. The something’s-fucking-wrong kind. It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black. I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing. My heart flipped. My pulse shot up. My throat tightened around air that suddenly felt thin. My glasses. Where the fuck were my glasses? Why couldn’t I see? I jerked forward and that’s when the second thing hit—I couldn’t move. Arms yanked behind me, legs tight. Rough rope dug into my skin. My wrists burned. My ankles throbbed. Tied. I was tied up. My chest caved in around the thought. I yanked instinctively, body jerking—stupid, stupid, everything hurt—but I couldn
Feral Desires Blind Desires
TATE I’D DRUNK TOO much. That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid, but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind. The something’s-fucking-wrong kind. It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black. I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing. My heart flipped. My pulse shot up. My throat tightened around air that suddenly felt thin. My glasses. Where the fuck were my glasses? Why couldn’t I see? I jerked forward and that’s when the second thing hit—I couldn’t move. Arms yanked behind me, legs tight. Rough rope dug into my skin. My wrists burned. My ankles throbbed. Tied. I was tied up. My chest caved in around the thought. I yanked instinctively, body jerking—stupid, stupid, everything hurt—but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t calm down. My lungs locked tight. My breath broke into short, fast bursts that sounded
Feral Desires Blind Desires
Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free…Enzo lets him go.
Feral Desires Chapter 91—EPILOGUE
NIKOLAI I SAT IN car with the engine off, watching snow crawl down the windshield in slow, silent streaks. The kind of quiet that made the world feel too still. The kind that reminded you no matter how many men you killed, how many cities you burned, there were still things out there that could bring you to your knees. That thing sat in my coat pocket, burning a hole straight through my chest. I wasn’t afraid Claude would say no. That wasn’t what had me gripping the wheel tight enough to leave marks. He’d already given me everything that mattered. His love. His trust. His broken pieces. But this was different. This wasn’t claiming him. It was offering him a future. I stepped out of the car, lit a cigarette even though I didn’t need it. Just needed something to do with my hands. Something to keep me from pacing. To blame the shakes on. When I went inside, the house was too warm. I followed the sound of his voice, low and soft, until I found him in the nursery. He had Callum in his
Feral Desires Chapter 90
CLAUDE THE BABY MONITOR crackled. Then came a muffled whimper—soft at first, then rising into a loud and distressed cry. Beside me, Nikolai stirred, already reaching for the sheets. “Fuck—I’ve got it,” he muttered, voice still thick from sleep. But I was already moving. I pressed a hand to his chest. “No,” I said quietly. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” He paused, just for a breath, eyes heavy with sleep but fixed on mine. He didn’t argue. Just reached out as I passed and brushed his fingers against the inside of my wrist. The hallway was still. Our home silent, hushed and warm, but my feet moved quickly, quiet on the floors as I crossed to the nursery. The moment I opened the door and flicked on the light, my breath caught. He was already waiting for me. Little fists curled tight at his sides, cheeks flushed from sleep, mouth wobbling like he wasn’t sure whether to cry or just demand attention. His hair—soft and light like mine—stuck to his forehead in wild tufts, stubborn even in
Feral Desires Chapter 89
NIKOLAIONE MONTH LATERHe hadn’t moved in five hours.Still in the same chair. Still staring at the same patch of wall like it held a way out of this. His leg bounced with a rhythm that didn’t match the silence in the room. Hands locked so tight they looked like they were fused together. Fingertips pale. Joints tense. Like if he loosened them, he’d fall apart right in front of me.A month ago, he had come into our room and told me he was going to raise the baby.No lead-up. No emotion. He didn’t look at me when he said it. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there in the doorway like a man already defeated.“I think I’m going to raise the baby,” he said.And that was it. No explanation. No plea. Just those words. Delivered flat and empty, like something he’d practiced saying a thousand times alone and hated every second of it.I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. I’d already seen the signs. The baby books shoved under his side of the bed. The way he’d scrolled through newborn care guides a
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