Chapter 11 — No Escape

The world around them was silence, except for the panting sounds of bodies meeting and losing themselves. Susan’s breathing was ragged, her teary eyes now burning with a mix of fear, desire, and surrender.

“You shouldn’t be doing this to me…” she whispered, her hands digging into his shoulders. “I’m danger for you, Dmitry…”

He brushed his lips along her jaw, his voice hoarse, heavy with dark provocation.

“No, solnishko… (little sun…) You are the only fucking right thing in the chaos that I am. My ruin… and my addiction.”

“She’s ours, fuck… She was made for us. You can feel it. Her soul is screaming. Mark this woman. Fuck her until she forgets her own name. But DON’T let her go.”

The Lycan’s voice reverberated inside him like a raw, visceral command. Dmitry propped himself up on his elbows, his body almost trembling with the effort of maintaining control.

“Why do you calm me… and drive me insane at the same time?” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers, starving. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, Susan?”

Susan touched his face gently, tracing his hard features with her small fingers, her voice weak.

“You were control… Before me, weren’t you?”

“My whole life has been that shit: control,” Dmitry said without hesitation, letting out a hoarse, bitter laugh. “Rules, strategy, leadership… I was shaped to command. To never yield. But you…”

He swallowed hard. His eyes burned with desire and something he refused to name.

“You dismantle me with one look. One touch from you… and I stop being an Alpha, stop being the leader, the Lycan. I become just… a man. A man fucking addicted to you.”

“This…” she said in a broken whisper. “Is going to drag us into the abyss… And if I fall… I’ll destroy you.”

Dmitry held her face between his hands, pressing his forehead to hers, his heart racing.

“You are my Predestined,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Even if it kills me… I won’t be without you.”

“She’s the fucking end and the beginning, Dmitry. Don’t run, for fuck’s sake! She’s ours. Fuck everything else. If she falls, we fall together. But hold on. GRAB HER. Never let go!”

The Lycan roared inside him, hungry, fierce, maddened. Dmitry could no longer bear the taste of her skin without sinking completely. The heat between their bodies overflowed, and she moaned softly when he pressed his hips against hers, feeling her fit perfectly.

“You’re going to kill me…” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away, only tightened her legs around him even more.

“No…” he said, biting her lower lip as he trailed kisses down her neck like a ravenous predator. “You’re going to save me. Or consume me. Or both. But fuck it… I accept it.”

Their clothes vanished like smoke as their bodies sought each other with wild thirst. Her body arched, receiving him completely, with a broken sigh and a moan that sounded more like a forbidden invocation.

He took her right there, in that field shaped by desire and destiny, not with brutality… but with lascivious adoration. The movements were rhythmic, intense, as if seeking absolute fusion. As if their bodies had been sculpted under the same moon.

Dmitry moaned her name like someone praying and blaspheming at the same time.

“She’s squeezing… She wants us! Fuck… We’ll never have enough. Bury deeper. Make her remember who’s in charge… Who she belongs to.”

Susan held on tight, her legs locked around his waist, the sounds escaping her lips pure ecstasy, broken with fear and surrender. The pleasure tore them from the inside out, and Dmitry felt something greater than the physical: a bond.

“Dmitry…” she cried his name, between moans and sighs. “Please…”

“I’m here…” he growled, sinking his teeth into the curve of her neck without breaking the skin, just marking her. “I’ll always be here, malyshka… (little one…) Because you are mine. My fucking Predestined. In every plane.”

The climax swallowed them like a devastating wave, shattering all reason. The Lycan howled inside him, his essence vibrating so violently that Dmitry almost lost consciousness. Susan’s body arched, her legs trembling, and they moaned together, stripped of everything.

The silence that followed was serene… But within seconds, her image began to dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand.

“No…” He tried to grab her, eyes wide, chest heaving. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“Fuck! She’s gone… But she’s still ours! WAKE UP, damn it! Go after her!”

…

He woke up with his body on fire and his soul in ruins.

The room was cold, but sweat clung to his skin like a cruel reminder that the heat came from within — a fire no water could extinguish.

His breathing was rough, heavy, uneven. For a second, he didn’t even know where he was.

It took a moment to understand: it was just him.

Him… and the emptiness.

He closed his eyes. Tried, in vain, to erase the memory of her skin, her green eyes begging for more, the whispers that sounded like confessions torn from the soul. But the more he tried to forget, the more present she became. The more she infiltrated him.

The Lycan growled under his skin, impatient. But it wasn’t anger.

It was hunger.

“Fuck… I want her. Again. Now. I want more… More…”

“Shut up,” Dmitry growled, getting up with contained rage, but his voice sounded more like an invitation to chaos than a command.

He walked to the bathroom with heavy steps, almost stumbling in his own despair. He turned on the light brutally and leaned on the marble sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror as if expecting to find something else there.

His eyes… were lighter. Dilated. Wild.

Hunger.

Desire.

Fury.

Need.

The monster inside him pulsed. Control was slipping. And Susan was the epicenter of it all.

He had promised he would never bow to anyone. Never love. Never depend.

But then she arrived. And now, nothing was safe anymore.

She was in his skin. In the taste. In the scent that didn’t even exist in that room, but that he felt anyway. Impregnated, embedded in his flesh.

“This will pass…” he lied to himself, forcing his jaw to stay firm. “I’m going to rip this shit out. I have control.”

The Lycan laughed deep in his mind. A deep, hoarse, mocking, almost indecent sound.

“Control my ass! She called you, fuck… Even in the dream. She wanted you. The Predestined… is ours! And you want her more than you want to breathe!”

“Quiet… I don’t feel—”

“Fucking liar!” The Lycan roared, digging into his conscience. “You’re throbbing for her! You’re hard, you’re starving… And you want to bury yourself until she screams your name and begs: more, Dmitry… More…”

The growl that tore from him was instinctive, ripping through his throat. His clenched fists trembled, and the marble sink gave way under his strength, cracking as if sharing his pain.

He turned the faucet on violently and stepped into the shower still dressed, letting the cold water fall over his body like a punishment for a sin he no longer wanted to avoid. But the cold didn’t touch him. Because she was burning inside him.

Her scent. Her taste. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him. The way she said his name… as if he were the only thing that existed in the world.

Susan.

“This… can’t be happening,” his voice came out like a lament soaked in lust. “I have a clan. A name. A legacy…”

“And she has your whole fucking cock in her hand!” The Lycan whispered with a dirty, possessive laugh. “She is ours. Body, soul, and scream… She wants it. She calls for it. She was born for this: to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore!”

Dmitry squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the tremor in his muscles, against the painful erection pulsing with urgency. Desire was no longer something physical — it was an overwhelming force.

She consumed him.

The image of her appeared without permission. Naked. Lying on the grass, her red hair spread like an invitation to ruin. Her arms outstretched, her body warm and offered. She was calling him, between fear and desire, begging him to take her.

The scene was so vivid he could swear he heard her.

“She wants to be fucked, Dmitry… Until she loses her mind. She wants your scent, your taste… She wants you coming inside her and marking her from within!”

The Lycan whispered with hunger and certainty.

“She was born to be ours. Born to moan your name until her throat fails!”

Dmitry clenched his jaw, his self-control a thin thread. And it was about to snap.

His breathing faltered. One hand slid down the cold wall, the other moved down violently, lowering his pajama pants and grabbing his own cock with a force that mixed desperation and desire. For a moment, he imagined it was her hands. Small, soft, eager.

A hoarse moan escaped, loaded with lust.

He visualized Susan on her knees. Mouth slightly open. Green eyes fixed on his as she took him in. Her hot mouth, full lips sucking him slowly… then deeper… deeper…

“Ah… Fuck…” he gasped, his hand moving with raw instinct, each stroke a surrender to what he feared most.

“Suck deeper… Suck until it explodes down your throat, Susan… She wants it, Dmitry! She wants EVERYTHING!”

The rhythm of his hand increased, the beast roaring inside him as if it wanted to break free. Pleasure rose like a gale. Fast, furious, cruel.

She welcomed him, dominated him, sucked him with devotion.

“She belongs to us! Mark this fucking woman! Make her what she was born to be: ours… Only ours!”

The orgasm hit him like lightning. Wild. A deep roar exploded in his throat as the release consumed him, shaking him to the last muscle. But in the next second…

Everything felt empty.

Breathing hard, Dmitry remained with his forehead pressed against the wall. The water was still falling. But it washed nothing. It cleaned nothing.

He opened his eyes. His hand dirty. Semen dripping. The pleasure had been real, but… insufficient.

Cruelly insufficient.

“It’s not enough! It will never be enough! Not without her under us… Not without her screaming your name and begging you to bury it to the end!”

The Lycan growled with animalistic possessiveness.

“She has to be under us. She has to be ours. For real.”

Dmitry closed his eyes, jaw locked.

“Damn it…”

“Just the memory made you come like that… Imagine when you really fuck her… When you make her beg you not to stop… Fuck, it’s going to be hell, Dmitry!”

He turned off the shower with violence. He stayed there, motionless, breathing deeply as if trying to compose himself. But it was useless.

Her scent was still there. The taste. The presence. Desire was no longer physical. It was spiritual. Instinctive.

It was possession.

He dried his face, but nothing calmed him. Not the water. Not the guilt. Because now there was something stronger than any promise, tradition, or name.

Her.

“We will have her…” he affirmed, his voice deep, dark, loaded with a certainty as dense as his own blood.

“Then take her soon… Before some son of a bitch tries to steal what is already ours!”