CHAPTER 5: THE GAZE THAT HOLDS ME

CHAPTER 5: THE GAZE THAT HOLDS ME

SELENE’S POV

I remain where I am, frozen, every muscle locked tight as if my body has suddenly turned to marble. My heart hammers so violently in my chest that I can feel each beat reverberating through my ribs. My breath comes shallow and uneven. The weight of his presence presses into the air, thick and suffocating, an unseen force that wraps itself around me like invisible chains. It is more than intimidation—it is dominance, an aura that fills the room until there is no space left for my own existence. I can’t move. I can barely think. My hands clench around my phone, the plastic casing digging painfully into my palm, but even that pain feels distant, muffled under the sheer impact of him.

God, this… this is indescribable. Words can’t do it justice.

He moves. Slowly, deliberately, the duvet sliding against his body as he pushes himself upright. His eyes are half-squinted, his expression unreadable, as if the act of waking is an inconvenience he tolerates with mild annoyance. He scans the room, his gaze brushing over his surroundings with an almost lazy precision. When his eyes drift to my side of the bed, I see the faintest flicker of realization—subtle but unmistakable—when he notices I am not there.

I wonder how long it will take for him to realize I haven’t left the room at all. I’m still here, standing at the far edge near the door, caught between flight and paralysis, my mind a whirlpool of chaos I can barely contain.

A low chuckle escapes him, a sound that doesn’t quite match amusement—deeper, rougher, something darker threading through it. He shakes his head faintly, then drags his hands over his face, fingertips pressing against his temples as if to push away the remnants of sleep.

When his fingers rake through his hair, my chest tightens. The motion is unintentional, careless, yet there is something devastatingly magnetic in the way his dark strands fall back into place, framing his sharp features. My breath catches before I can stop it.

He rises from the bed without a trace of self-consciousness, the duvet sliding off entirely to pool on the mattress. He moves easily, confidently, the definition of a man utterly unbothered by his own nakedness. Perhaps he assumes I’m gone. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t care.

It isn’t until he’s only a few meters from the bathroom door that he stops. My pulse spikes—five hundred beats per minute, if not more—my vision almost narrowing under the surge of adrenaline.

Has he sensed me?

The thought barely forms before I see it: the subtle tilt of his head, the slow stillness of a predator pinpointing the source of disturbance. My lungs constrict.

And then—our eyes meet.

The expanse of the room might as well vanish in that moment. His gaze locks onto mine with the unshakable certainty of a man who is never uncertain. There’s no flash of surprise. No irritation. No curiosity. Nothing readable at all. His face remains an unyielding mask, carved from something too strong to be stone.

Yet those eyes… those magnificent, mercilessly beautiful eyes are impossible to look away from.

I stay rooted to the spot, my own eyes wide, my heart hammering so violently I can feel it in my throat. It’s as if every nerve in my body vibrates under the pull of him. Breathing becomes an effort. My mouth goes dry.

His lips curve—not into a smile exactly, but into something that knows the power it holds—a smirk, small and deliberate. A chuckle slips from him, low and rich, before he pushes the bathroom door closed behind him with casual ease.

He doesn’t seem remotely concerned about his nakedness, as though modesty is an entirely foreign concept to him. Instead, he folds his arms, his stance relaxed but radiating control, and looks at me with something I can only describe as quiet amusement.

“So… you’re still here?” His voice is silk laced with steel—deep, resonant, sinful in a way that feels almost dangerous.

Oh God. The sound of it ripples through me, a vibration in my chest and stomach, sending a shiver along my spine. My knees threaten to give way.

I force a nervous chuckle, my fingers brushing up against the side of my neck in a useless attempt to ground myself. My lips part, but what spills out is a tangled mess of words that make no sense even to me.

“No, I… I was just—I think I might… want it to be…”

Oh my God, Selene. What are you even saying?

He studies me in silence for a moment that feels far longer than it is. Then, without hurry, he begins to move toward me.

Panic sparks.

Oh heavens—please tell me he is not doing this right now.

Another laugh—too high, too strained—escapes me as I instinctively take a step back, my body trying to put distance between us. “I… I’m sorry,” I blurt, my palms lifting slightly in a useless gesture of surrender. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I’ll be out of your way soon—really soon. You won’t even know I was here.”

But before the last syllable leaves my lips, he moves.

Not like a man. Not even like an athlete. But like something else entirely.

One blink and he’s no longer several steps away—he’s right there. So close the air shifts. His speed is inhuman, a flash of motion that sends my mind reeling. And in that instant, I know—he’s not just human. He can’t be.

Werewolf? Vampire? Something else entirely? I can’t tell. I only know the truth in my bones: whatever he is, he is like me.

His hand clamps around mine, firm but not painful, his strength so absolute I know struggling is useless. He presses me back until my shoulders meet the wall with a muted thud, his presence swallowing up the space between us.

He leans in, his lips brushing against the side of my neck—not kissing, but inhaling. Savoring.

When he speaks, his voice is lower still, almost a purr. “Why the hurry to leave… when the person standing before me is absolute perfection?”

My throat tightens. My pulse stutters and then races. What is happening right now?

“I love,” he continues, “how you make me feel.”

The words hit harder than they should, wrapping around me like a dangerous promise.

“I—” My voice breaks. I shake my head, trying to push him back, but his grip only tightens. “This is a mistake. I’m… I’m really, really sorry—”

I don’t get to finish.

His hands lock me in place, his body pressing into mine with enough force to make the wall at my back feel colder, harder. And then I feel it. The hard, heated length of him against my thigh.

Oh God.

My cheeks flame instantly. My mind trips over itself, flashing to last night—how is he this big? How did I even… survive that?

I try to laugh it off, a choked, nervous sound, but my body betrays me, trembling under his touch. His hand slides down my spine, slow, deliberate, until it cups my ass.

“I’m surprised,” he murmurs at my ear, his breath hot against my skin, “that you’re acting like this now. Last night, you were wild… pleading with me… begging me to take you again and again.”

Shame scorches my face, a rush of heat I can’t hide. “That… that was the alcohol talking,” I say quickly, my voice breathless, desperate to reclaim some dignity.

He studies me with that same unreadable expression, golden eyes burning into mine with a focus that strips me bare.

“Are you sure about that?” His tone shifts, still velvet but sharpened now, edged with challenge. “Or did you simply want to invade my privacy… and claim the one man every woman in this city aches for?”

The hell?