Chapter 57

Andrew

The absolute hardest part of being a teenage wolf is the waking – the jarring, immediate realization that my body has betrayed me before I’ve even managed to open my eyes. I wake up, and my di.ck is hard as wood, skin feels like it’s vibrating, my pulse a frantic, thrumming beat in my ears, and all I can think is that my physiology is nothing short of dim-witted. Doesn't my own body have any sense of its surroundings? It should be able to smell the stale, empty air, feel the cold, lonely space of the sheets, and register with brutal, objective clarity that there isn’t a single female in my bed to anchor this chaotic surge of horny energy. It is an exercise in pure misery, being a guy at this age, caught in the suffocating transition between boy and man. We are left trapped in this purgatory of biology, prowling the halls of high school with a huge hunger that has no outlet, just a constant, burning reminder of everything we haven't earned yet.

The school is another level of nightmare. How can you focus and study if you have awaken horny and kept on walkign around with that unsatisfied hunger that just keeps on growing bigger? Instead of curriculum a teenage boy just sees boobs and asses and sexy hair flips and smiles. And it just adds oil to raging fire inside. You grow so hownry that you are ready to fuck anything , a freaking goat if seen. The teenage boys should be given trophies for their self control as so less se.x is actually hapening and so less teenage pregnancies are there. Knowing how early horniness starts – it's a huuge surprise.

What’s even more infuriating is the pathetic reality that I am still a virgin – a label that now feels like a jagged, rusted shackle around my ego. What was I even thinking, playing the long game? At this point, it feels like I should just take the first thing that stumbles into my path, yet the reality is far more complicated. Every other girl has suddenly devolved into a creature of shallow, clingy insignificance; they move with a grating, repetitive aimlessness that makes my skin crawl and my interest plummet to absolute zero.

But then there is Prue. Her presence is a wildfire, a raw, jagged edge of spirit that slices through the monotony of my existence and demands my absolute attention. Seeing her is like a physical blow, a sudden, violent shift in my equilibrium that makes my blood surge and every instinct I possess lock onto her like a heat-seeking missile. It is infuriating, this involuntary, rhythmic response to her every movement, a cruel biological joke that I never asked for. I despise this stupid, invisible tether between us, yet I find myself constantly pulled back into her orbit, resentful of the way my own body has turned traitorous in the name of a bond I never wanted.

My morning has been an exercise in absolute, teeth-grinding misery, fueled by a biological hunger that makes me feel like a wild animal pacing its cage. No amount of physical training, work and running in wolf's form has helped today. The afternoon is here already but I’m still horny like a wild hare trapped in the dead of mating season, twitchy-nerved and half-mad with a heavy, throbbing pulse that made every breath feel like running uphill in summer heat.

I'm stalking through the stifling halls, my temper fraying with every second that passes without a release, when I spot her. Prue is descending the grand staircase, moving with that effortless, infuriating grace that screams "lone wolf" and sets my pulse into a violent, uneven gallop. The sight of her is like gasoline on a smoldering fire, and before I can even process the impulse, my feet are carrying me directly into her path, the need to confront her overriding every ounce of my self-control.

The distance between us is a brittle, fragile thing, and the moment I finally snap, I don't give myself time to think – I simply push her back until her spine meets the cold, unforgiving surface of the wall.

"I hate lone wolves, Rue," I growl, the words feeling like glass in my throat, "but when it comes to you, every damn thought I have is just a fever dream of your lips and the taste of you."

She doesn't even blink, her expression sharpening into that familiar, razor-edged sneer that makes me want to both break her and beg her for more.

"And I should consider this a compliment or something? Or is this just your way of announcing you’ve finally lost your mind?" She frowns at me like I'm a garbage with disgustin stink.

"I’m pouring my heart out, for God’s sake – don't be such a mean bi.tch about it." I growl at her.

"I am not a trash bin for your puked-out emotional messes, so keep your pathetic confessions to yourself and get off me!" She shoves at my chest, a desperate, clawing movement, but even with the raw power of her wolf blood, it’s a futile, pathetic struggle against me. I am an Alpha, and she is nothing but a little mouse scurrying in the wrong shadow. I tighten my grip, my fingers curling firmly around the nape of her neck until she goes still.

"Shut up," I command, the command vibrating in the air between us like a physical weight.

Then, I crash into her mouth, a collision of teeth and heat that ignores every consequence, every vow of hatred I’ve ever made. The shock of it is immediate – she responds with a hunger that mirrors my own, as if we have both been starving, wasting away in the drought of this forced separation. My hands map the curves of her, and when I grab her butt, hitching her higher against the wall, I am struck by the reality of her: she isn't the soft, yielding thing I expected. Her body is a testament to her life on the run – hard, corded, and packed with pure, restless muscle that I want to crush and possess. We kept on kissing like possessed, like we couldn't get enough of this sizzling electric feeling that was rushing through all our bodies and especially from every part we touched.

She grabbed my neck and scratch her nails against it making me hiss for a moment. This kitten had nails – but it only made me harder. As if she felt it, she started to grind her hips against me making me feel like I'm gonna explode from how much I wanted to push my di.ck into her. She had no idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. Hell, maybe she enjoyed it. Either way, my wolf was clawing under my skin, growling at me to claim her right here in this hallway. I forced the sound out low, deliberate, just to steady myself.

“I can smell your arousal,” I pulled away from her, my voice rough and raw. She looked so eatable – her red, soft lips parted, chest rising quick. Goddess, the sight made me want to tear the hall apart.

“Where are your thoughts taking you?” The corner of my mouth lifted into a smirk, because if I didn’t turn this into a game, I’d lose the last grain of self-control left in me. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, and every breath dragged me deeper into her orbit.

“You hope that I’ll fu.ck you?” I let the word roll off my tongue on purpose, sharp and crude. My wolf practically howled, pushing images into my brain that I had no business entertaining in the middle of the damn packhouse.

Her eyes flashed, and for a heartbeat, I thought she’d crumble, admit it, throw herself at me. But then she squared her shoulders, and the defiance hit me like a punch.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I added with a wicked curl of my lip, “but only good girls get fu.cked.”

The flicker in her eyes – it was like I’d slapped her. My smirk deepened even as my gut twisted. What the hell was I doing, pushing her away when every cell in my body screamed to pull her closer? No, I wanted her to plead me, to beg me to fu.ck her. I wanted her to promise me that she will be such a good, good girl. For me. I wanted to feel and hear that she wanted this as bad as I wanted it.

But she cocked her head, smug as sin and fired back:

“Oh boy, you got it all wrong. With good girls you make sweet love and go to bed to spoon each other.” My smirk faltered. Just a little.

She slid under my arm, stretching like a cat about to claw my skin off, and tossed out:

“Quite boring, if you ask me.” Then she faked the world’s most dramatic yawn, and I swear my wolf nearly lunged at her.

“But with the bad girls…” she continued, her red lips curving like the devil herself. Every nerve in me went taut. My smirk slipped, replaced by a growl that rumbled deep in my chest before I could bite it back.

“…you get to fu.ck with wild passion for hours with no end.” She licked her teeth with her pink tongue while I traced every movement as if in slow motion.

My right hand clenched on the wall until a small crack showed. I forced my jaw tight, fighting the urge to throw her over my shoulder just to prove her right. She knew it – hell, she wanted me to crack. The bond made sure of that. Every teasing syllable she dropped was gasoline on a fire already roaring inside me. She slided a step aside from me, hips swaying like she was mocking me with every movement. She turned her body towards me, pausing just long enough to twist the knife.

“So when you’re ready to crack some fire…” She let the silence stretch until my pulse was hammering in my ears.

“Let me know.” And then – like she hadn’t just wrecked me – she winked. An exaggerated, taunting wink that made my wolf slam against my ribs, snarling to be let loose.

I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt, my teeth practically grinding to dust. She was gone a second later, but the echo of her voice, her scent, her smirk lingered like smoke after a blaze. Effecting me? No – she was destroying me.