A Familiar Ache

Nova

He thinks I’m going to break.

He thinks I’ll cave under the weight of his dominance, his heat. His damn dangerously good looks, his body almost too hot to handle…

Almost…

But there's no way I’m backing down.

It’s damn difficult to stand my ground.

The second he walked into this room, my body betrayed me.

It started with his scent—rugged and all-consuming. The intoxicating mix of leather and musk. It hit me like a drug, swirling around my senses, clouding my head.

Why does he have to smell like that? Why does it have to make my skin tingle, my heart stutter?

His hair, a few wild curls falling over his forehead, is perfect for my fingers to tangle in.

And without a shirt…

Strong, broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted abs, and a deep V-line that points straight to—

Head. Out. Of. The. Gutter.

But there’s no denying it.

He has the face of a god and the body to make a girl sin.

And beg for more.

Flawless.

Then he opens his mouth.

And ruins it.

"Small thing."

Flawless? My ass.

His sultry voice is laced with mockery. The first thing out of his mouth, and he’s taunting me?

Oh, hell no.

I fire back without thinking. And the second the words leave my lips, I realise what I’ve done.

Rule number one: You don’t challenge an adult Alpha male. Ever.

But it's too late to back out now. So I double down. 

His jaw tightens. That cocky smirk twitches. His muscles flex just slightly, and  I feel the shift in the air. His Alpha power thickens the space between us, a blue glow, the same colour as his eyes, presses down on me. But I refuse to back down.

Then, he surprises me.

I call him out, and instead of unleashing his full Alpha presence, he reins it in. He actually controls himself.

He steps back just enough to give me room to breathe, but not enough to make me feel free. His eyes sweep over me slowly, purposefully.

“Stop that,” I snap, trying to ignore the heat climbing my neck.

His gaze lingers on my lips before rising to meet mine. A wolfish grin plays on his mouth.

Then, he smirks. “Still feisty, aren’t we? Most women would be all over me by now.”

Cocky bastard.

I want to shove him away, to break this damn spell he’s cast on me. My hands tremble as I push against the heat of his chest, but it's like pushing against a wall of stone. 

My voice is soft but firm. “I’m sure they would. But don’t you dare put me in a category of women who fall at your feet.”

His smirk deepens. “That so?”

I don’t waver. “You might want to find your place before you start stepping on toes, Alex.”

Oh shit.

Now I’ve done it.

Something flickers in his expression. A slow burn of irritation… which quickly turns into anger at my blatant disrespect.

He steps forward. And for the first time in years, I retreat. My spine hits the wall.

His hand comes up, wrapping around my throat - not tight, just enough to send a warning. Just enough to make my pulse slam against his palm.

His other hand lands on the wall beside my head, caging me in. His body radiates heat, his breath teasing my lips. Then, his knee presses between my thighs, parting them just enough to make my pulse spike.

I gasp. Try to shove him back.

He doesn't budge.

His voice drops an octave as he whispers in my ear,

"You really think you can talk to me that way without being punished, little wolf?"

I can feel my cheeks heat up as my desire grows between my legs, perfuming the air around us.

He smiles, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

He can smell it.

My want. My need.

The bastard is savouring it.

His fingers release my throat before he slowly ghosts them over my neck, a whisper of a touch, trailing lower — down my collarbone. Between my breasts. Lower... stopping just at the edge of my waistband.

I hold my breath.

Then — nothing.

He steps back, his absence leaving a slow, aching burn.

I want more, but damn, this can't happen.

Definitely not in the training hall of all places, where anyone can come in at any time.

Certainly not after I just told him I'm not like any of the other women.

It takes all to shove him away, my hands pressing against his hard chest, forcing him back.

Even though I push as hard as I can, he doesn’t move an inch.

Why the hell does he have to be so damn strong?

He willingly takes a step back, and I stride toward the door, voice cold, my heart still thumping in my ears.

"I don’t think I can. I know I can, and if you're smart, you'll respect that."

I don’t turn back.

Damn it.

Damn him. Damn that smirk.

Screw it. He may have won this round, but he has no idea who he's playing with.