Can T Control Myself Novels & Stories

You felt it. Just now. When you were close to her. His eyes darkened. Because it was right. For a second— he had lost it. And if he hadn’t stopped— If she hadn’t said his name— What would have happened? His jaw clenched. “I won’t let that happen again.” The voice almost laughed. You already did. Silence. Then— another push. Another thought. If you can’t control yourself— remove the trigger. His breathing stopped. Just for a second.

“Pathetic.” My eyes burned. “I’m not doing this on purpose.” He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel his presence crushing the air in the bathroom. “Then stop, damn it.” My breathing faltered. “It doesn’t work like that,” I tried to say. “More than anyone, I want this to stop. I want to breathe calmly. Have control over my own hands. But unfortunately, it doesn’t depend only on what I want.” He looked at me as if I had said something ridiculous.

Partly because some things belong to the people who lived them. What I will say is this: he was steady where I was controlled, and the difference between those two things turned out to matter more than I’d known it could. Control is a choice you renew constantly. It is a discipline and a distance held simultaneously, and I had been good at it for so long that I had stopped noticing the effort it took. I noticed when I stopped. The relief of it was something I hadn’t anticipated.

he asks, moving into the room. My smile slides down and I force myself to breathe slowly, focusing on managing my blood pressure. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but whenever he’s around I start losing it. It ticks me off that I can’t seem to control myself. I don’t want to like him, and I don’t want him to send my system offline every time he’s near. Too bad I’m not the one calling the shots up in my brain. Down, Hootchie, down! Control yourself!

I don't need a man after all. But each time I scroll through my contacts, his name is at the top of the list. It makes it really hard 'not to be a mess.' When I mean mess, I'm clumsy. Can you believe I almost slip on the bathroom floor this morning, lost in thought, thinking how my life would have been if I hadn't wanted to 'sin' that night? Stayed home and took Kira and Odin's bullshit, waking up the next day like nothing happens. I'll probably need a bandage after pulmetting my head on the wall with zero tolerance, zero self-control.

"Tobias, you have been here less than two months. You cannot expect perfect control yet." "I ought to be in greater control than this. For twenty years, I have been repressing my strength. I ought to be able to put an end to it." Control and suppression are not the same thing. Suppression is similar to using your bare hands to keep a dam closed. Eventually, your grip fails. Control is learning to open the dam gradually, direct the water where you want it to go." He looked at me finally. "What if I never learn? What if I am always going to be one bad moment away from killing someone?"

"On the first day, I was about to attack Fred when he snarled at her, my mate. Since then, I've nearly lost control four times, two of which occurred when no one else was present." I glanced at him, four times? I knew about our game of keep away and the image of my father. His control had been pushed minutes ago, but he hadn't come close to losing control. Tony gave him an odd look and asked, "Have you tried different techniques in case one is more effective?" "I've tried every one of them. I've never had issues with my control before, and it's thrown me for a loop. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt someone."

“I have tried to be so damned careful not to lose control” “It’s not as though you did it on purpose. You were locked in the throes of a nightmare”. “Can you not see that I am mad, that if I don’t keep a tight rein on myself, I risk becoming a barbarian ?” “I can see that you are a man who is battling demons. That’s not the same thing. And you don’t have to fight them alone. Let me help you”. He shakes his head. “I can’t”.

It’s personal. And he’s the only one reckless enough, possessive enough to turn this into a message. My hands curl into fists. The air around me shifts. Darkens. Unstable. Because my control is slipping and I hate that. I hate it more than anything. “Calm down.” My voice cuts through the chaos in my head. Sharp. Commanding. Because panic? Panic is weakness. And I don’t do weakness. I inhale slowly. Exhale slower. Again.

Every single thing has been kept away from him. I felt a sharp pain on my palm as blood gushed out. I had clawed into my own palm while seeking control over my wolf. “Fucking get control of yourself,” Andrew gritted out, while trying hard to keep calm. The truth is that I was fucking trying to get control of myself. I have always controlled myself and I always end up in worse situations. My claws slowly retracted, and it was only then that I exhaled. I felt someone's gaze burning through my skin