Chapter 7 — Uncontrollable Desire

Susan felt her heart race.

The touch had been accidental, too quick to mean anything... but Dmitry’s reaction was too intense to ignore. For a moment, she was sure his eyes had darkened, that his jaw had clenched hard.

She tried to focus on what she was doing, but the room seemed smaller, hotter. Or maybe it was her. The air around them vibrated with something she couldn’t name. A dense, almost palpable silence enveloped the two of them.

Dmitry was... intense.

Since the first meeting, she had felt the absurd magnetism he exuded. But now, alone with him, so close... it was impossible to ignore the predatory look, the raw energy he emanated with every restrained breath.

“So... Do you have any questions, sir? Would you like me to change anything?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady even as her knees threatened to give out.

He took a long time to answer. His eyes slid over her in a way that made her skin prickle. There was something in the way he watched her... an untamed desire hidden behind that cold facade. As if every inch of her body had been examined, desired, and savored... with his eyes.

“No.” His voice came out low, hoarse, loaded with a dangerous tension. “It’s a solid concept. You have good instincts for this.”

Susan felt the heat spreading through her body, pooling in places she preferred to ignore. Everything was wrong. Or too right, and that was the problem.

“Thank you...” she murmured, gripping the notebook tighter than necessary.

The silence between them grew thicker. She licked her lips nervously, immediately regretting it when she noticed how Dmitry’s gaze fixed on that gesture, as if something inside him had been awakened.

She pretended not to notice. She prayed he would pretend too.

“Anything else, Mr. Rurik?”

Dmitry took a deep breath, as if he were holding on to the last thread of self-control.

“No.” His voice came out even lower this time, almost a deep whisper. “That’s all... for now.”

She nodded quickly and closed the notebook, trying not to show the subtle panic beginning to settle in. She wanted to get out of there. She wanted air. She wanted... not to feel what she was feeling.

When she turned to leave, a shiver ran up her spine. She felt it. His gaze burning into her back, scorching the skin beneath the fabric of her blouse.

Before reaching the door, she stopped. She couldn’t resist. She turned her face.

And there he was.

Dmitry was still watching her, his eyes shining under the diffused light of the office, as if she were an answer he had never dared to ask for.

As if she were his.

Susan swallowed hard and left without saying another word, her heart hammering inside her chest. And with the certainty that if she stayed there one more second, she wouldn’t have the strength to resist whatever was about to happen.

***

The door closed behind Susan with a soft click, but for Dmitry, it sounded like the firing of a gun. A sharp cut between who he was... and what he was becoming.

He remained motionless, muscles rigid, fists clenched on the desk as if that were enough to contain the chaos eating him alive from the inside.

“Hell...” he murmured, hoarse, almost inaudible.

He closed his eyes in a pathetic attempt to control his breathing, but all he managed to do was ignite the fire in his body even more. The memory was too vivid. The accidental touch, the sweet and soft perfume, the heat of her body so close to his... too close.

“You felt it. She felt it.”

The Lycan’s voice whispered like sweet poison, coiling around his thoughts. A purr of desire and triumph.

Dmitry opened his eyes. Hard. Icy... or at least they should have been. But what he saw when he stared at the dark surface of the table was the reflection of something he hated: vulnerability.

Susan, with her fair and delicate skin, that messy red hair, the green eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul... Without fear, without masks.

She did nothing. And that was what drove him insane.

Susan wasn’t trying to seduce him. She didn’t challenge him, didn’t insinuate herself. She simply existed, and that was enough to tear down the walls he had spent a lifetime building.

“Damn it...” he growled, sinking his fingers into his own hair, violently messing up the albino strands.

“Call her back.”

The Lycan mocked, with merciless pleasure.

“Tell her you need to review the sketches. Say anything. But bring her back. Just the two of you. Only her and you.”

“No.”

The answer came out tense, almost painful. A hoarse whisper between clenched teeth. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

He had a wife. An agreement of power, of alliances. A cold and suffocating marriage, but necessary.

And yet...

Susan only had to walk into the room for everything to crumble.

His mind refused to obey, dragging him back to that moment. The brief touch, the instant the world stopped. The way her breath faltered, the way her eyes widened. She had felt it. He was sure.

And the Lycan knew it.

“She is ours.”

Dmitry closed his eyes once more, but now there was no escape. Her scent still lingered in the room, impregnated in his skin, in his clothes, in the damn chair where she had sat. He breathed deeply, but it was a mistake. Because all he found was her.

And something inside him gave way.

A silent, invisible crack. But definitive.

There was no turning back.

“You’re going to destroy me...” he whispered, and he didn’t know if he was speaking to her or to himself.

“You’re already destroyed.”

The beast whispered with dark pleasure. And for the first time, Dmitry didn’t fight against it.