The Faltered Bond | Book #1 [Werewolf]

Chapter 6 | Broken glass

Dear Readers,

Before we dive into this chapter, I want to give a trigger warning for the content ahead. This chapter contains verbal abuse and alcohol abuse, which may be distressing to some readers.

Reader discretion is advised.

JACE W.

-*-

I storm out of the room, barely registering the door slamming behind me. My temples pound, the rhythmic thud of my pulse drowning out every other sound. The hinges groan in protest as I shove my way into my room, my breath ragged, chest heaving. Cold sweat trickles down my spine like a slow, torturous drip.

My wolf is raging.

Claws scrape beneath my skin, relentless-demanding, hungry, insatiable. The need coils in my gut, twisting into tight, suffocating knots.

One second.

That's all it took. One fucking second.

I let my guard down, and suddenly, I wanted to be all over her-like a crazed, lust-drunk mutt, desperate to claim what isn't mine.

But she is mine.

I can't get her out of my head. The warmth of her body close to mine, the intoxicating scent of her skin, the way her silky hair brushed against my fingers-fuck.

I crave it.

I need it.

I need her.

Stumbling toward my bed, I clutch the edge of the wooden nightstand, knuckles whitening under the strain. My body is tense, frozen, warring with itself.

My gaze lifts to the mirror. And I see it. The reflection staring back at me is not my own-not entirely.

My eyes flicker, shifting violently between their usual forest green and the burning crimson of my wolf's. It prowls beneath my skin, its presence pressing against my mind, desperate to take control.

The sight ignites something dark inside me. Rage.

A deep, primal growl rips through my chest, and before I know it- The mirror shatters as a raw, animalistic scream tears from my throat.

My arm swings back on instinct, and pain barely registers as my fist slams into the mirror. Glass shatters on impact, shards slicing into my skin. I go utterly still, chest heaving, the sound of my ragged breaths drowning out everything else.

Seconds bleed into minutes before the haze lifts, and I finally take in the destruction around me.

Blood oozes from my knuckles, thick and crimson, dripping onto the nightstand in messy splatters. A slow trickle snakes down my forearm, staining my shirt, pooling onto the wooden floor beneath me.

I clench my teeth, hissing through the sting.

At least the damn mutt finally shut up.

A voice pulls me from my daze. "Jace? Sir, are you alright?"

Breathe in. Steady. Breathe out. Control. "I'm fine. Just... tripped."

Turning, I meet the maid's wide-eyed stare, her gaze flickering between my bloodied hand and the mess of shattered glass littering the floor.

"Oh, Dear! Allow me-" She scrambles away, only to return seconds later, clutching a first-aid kit and a broom. Her hands shake as she kneels, eyes darting to me with something between exasperation and concern. "By the Goddess, Jace, you need to be more careful with your step-Respectfully, Sir."