Of course he doesn’t want to be here—the same place he’d left behind without a backward glance, the same place he thought he’d never need to return to. And yet, here he is, standing in the middle of it like some fool, dragged back by the fucking itch that’s burrowed into his mind, scratching away at him like a curse.
It’s absurd, humiliating even, that he’s stepped back here. His wolf is practically frothing at the edges, pulling him back to this… this tiny, useless creature he’d already discarded.
What kind of joke is this? His wolf is wild, stubborn, but he’s never let it control him. He’s the one in charge. He’s spent his life despising anything weak, anything that can’t hold its ground, and this—whatever it is—is exactly that. Soft, frail, and utterly pathetic beneath him, shivering like a leaf in the wind.
But its damned scent, so thick and sweet, wraps around his senses and practically laughs in his face. It’s like jasmine laced with honey, pouring over him as if it’s been made to mock every rule he’s set. His brain rebels, sure this is some cosmic prank he’d have laughed at if he weren’t breathing it in so deeply, so unforgivably deeply.
It doesn’t really matter now, that he’s hated every second of wanting it—that for weeks, his mind has been sinking into starving, something close to obsession. No, it doesn’t matter at all, now that it’s so close he could drown in it.
Is this it? Has he lost his mind? Or has he just finally embraced the insanity that’s been simmering all along? Because right now, his wolf is laughing and howling with delight, demanding him that he get closer. Every ounce of sanity he has is telling him to turn around and walk away. But that is such a brittle, feeble thing in the face of this scent—it might as well not even exist.
He pulls the omega in, tighter, inhaling that wickedly intoxicating scent that seems determined to undo him. He could almost laugh at the irony of it if he weren’t so far gone and hadn’t spent weeks in a frenzy chasing after this. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but ridiculously good.
“Fuck…” With a slow, crooked grin, he leans in close with a feral growl as he lets himself sink, deeper and deeper.
“So, it’s you, omega.”
He hadn’t intended to take this further and hadn’t thought it would go this far, yet here he is, barely holding himself back. His fingers press into that soft skin, feeling every shiver, every weak, frantic beat of the creature’s heart beneath his grip. It’s intoxicating, and he knows his wolf is closer to the surface than it has been in years. The edges of his vision blur, hazing over in gold, as though he’s staring through some feverish fog.
