Chapter 10
Icheck the calendar I have pinned inside my locker in the locker room at the gym, toweling off sweat from my neck as I squint at the screen. The date stares back at me, circled in red with a little note I’d added weeks ago: Suha’s rut.
I’d timed it carefully, counting back from our first encounter and cross-referencing with what I’d observed during my stalking phase. Dominant alphas like Suha tend to have predictable cycles, and I’d made damn sure to track his.
The bond has been pulling at me harder these past few days anyway.
It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, a restlessness that settles deep in my bones and won’t let go.
I’ve been irritable as hell, snapping at Wooil over nothing, unable to focus during sparring sessions.
Even Hansol noticed, asking if I was coming down with something.
I lean back against the lockers and sigh, running my hand through my damp hair. Well, I think, this is going to hurt. But there’s no helping it.
The bond won’t let me stay away forever, and honestly? I’m getting tired of fighting it. The thrill of the chase has been fun, but my body is screaming for relief now. I need what only Suha can give me, even if it means facing his fury.
I finish getting dressed, pulling on my usual ripped jeans and a sleeveless shirt, lacing up my combat boots.
My reflection in the mirror shows the fading marks from our last encounter, the bite scars on my neck still visible, the bond mark permanently raised on my shoulder. They’ll be fresh again soon enough.
The thought makes heat coil in my gut.
I wait until well after dark to make my move, slipping through the shadows toward Suha’s mansion with the same stealth I used to escape it. The guards are still patrolling in their predictable patterns, and I time my approach carefully, scaling the outer wall when their backs are turned.
The gardens are quiet, moonlight casting everything in silver. I move quickly across the lawn, keeping low, my bare feet silent on the grass. I’d ditched my boots at the wall since they’re too loud for this kind of infiltration.
I locate the right window, an identical trellis beneath it like the one I’d climbed down from, clinging to the side of the mansion beneath Suha’s bedroom window.
I climb it carefully, testing each handhold.
The window is unlocked, because why wouldn’t it be?
Suha probably has never had to worry about things like that.
I slip inside and pad across the plush carpet to the walk-in closet, settling myself in the shadows behind a rack of expensive suits. Then I wait.
My heart pounds steadily in my chest, anticipation mixing with genuine nervousness. I’m about to face a very angry, very possessive alpha in the throes of his rut. An alpha I’ve been taunting and evading for two weeks. An alpha who probably has a very detailed list of punishments planned for me.
I should be terrified. Instead, I’m half hard already.
The bedroom door slams open maybe twenty minutes later, making me tense.
I peer through the gap between suits and watch as Suha storms in, his movements jerky and aggressive.
He’s still in his work clothes, but they’re disheveled, his tie hanging loose, his shirt half untucked.
His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat on his brow, and I can see the tension in every line of his body.
His rut has definitely set in.
He yanks at his tie, cursing under his breath, tossing it aside before working at his belt with fumbling fingers. His hands are shaking slightly, and when he finally gets his pants open he shoves them down just enough to free his cock.
I watch, fascinated, as he wraps his hand around himself and starts stroking roughly, almost violently.
His other hand braces against the wall, his head dropping forward as he makes these angry, frustrated sounds deep in his throat.
He’s trying to get himself off, but it’s clearly not working, his hand moving faster, harder, his breathing getting more labored.
It won’t work. Not during a rut. Not without a partner, without someone to dominate and claim and knot. Especially not with a bond pulling at him, his body demanding his mate.
I step out of the closet, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Need some help there?”
Suha’s head jerks up so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. His eyes lock onto me, and I watch fury blaze across his features, so intense it’s almost beautiful. He doesn’t look surprised to see me, though. If anything, he looks like he was expecting this.
“How dare you,” he snarls, his voice rough and animalistic. “How dare you show your face here now.”
I shrug, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering closer. “Well, this is when I’m supposed to be here, isn’t it? When you need me.”
His hand is still wrapped around his cock, forgotten, as he stares at me with something between rage and hunger.
His pheromones are already flooding the room, thick and overwhelming, making my knees want to buckle.
They’re stronger than I remember, amplified by his rut, and my body responds instantly, heat pooling low in my belly.
“You think you can just waltz in here whenever you feel like it?” Suha snarls. His hand is still wrapped around his cock, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping himself. “You think you can play your little games and then come crawling back when it’s convenient for you?”
I shrug, trying to look unbothered even though my heart is hammering against my ribs. “I mean, yeah. Pretty much.”
His eyes flash dangerously. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide when you want to be here and when you want to disappear. That’s not how this works.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I take another step closer, watching the way his jaw clenches. “We’re bonded. Which means eventually I have to come back. And eventually you have to take me back.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he spits. “I can handle my own rut just fine without some bratty alpha pet who thinks everything is a fucking joke.”
I let my gaze drop pointedly to where his hand is still wrapped around himself, his cock hard and leaking despite his anger.
Then I look back up at his flushed face, the sweat beading at his temples, the way his chest is heaving with each breath.
“Really? Because it looks like you need me pretty badly right now.”
“Get out.” His voice drops. “Get the fuck out. Now. Before I do something we’ll both regret.”
But I don’t move. Instead, I saunter forward, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
His pheromones are suffocating this close, making my head spin and my knees weak, but I refuse to back down.
I reach out and cup him through his open pants, feeling him twitch against my palm.
“You look so cute when you’re angry,” I purr, licking my lips as I look up at him through my lashes.
That does it.
His hand shoots out and wraps around my throat, fingers digging into the sides hard enough to make spots dance in my vision.
He lifts me almost off my feet and throws me onto the bed with enough force to make me bounce on the mattress.
Before I can even catch my breath, his pheromones crash over me like a tidal wave, so thick and overwhelming that I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only gasp and shudder as they flood my system.
“This time,” he growls, stalking toward the bed like a predator, “you’re not getting the better of me. This time you’re going to learn exactly what happens when you play games with someone like me.”
I try to push myself up on my elbows, try to say something smart and cutting, but another wave of his pheromones hits me and my arms give out. I slump against the silk sheets, panting, my whole body trembling from the sheer force of his dominance pressing down on me.
Suha climbs onto the bed and grabs the front of my shirt, yanking hard.
Buttons scatter across the floor, pinging off furniture as the fabric tears.
He doesn’t bother trying to pull it off properly, just rips it apart and tosses the ruined pieces aside.
My jeans go next, the denim protesting as he hauls them down my legs and throws them somewhere behind him.
He flips me over onto my stomach with one hand between my shoulder blades, pressing down hard enough that I can barely move.
The slap comes fast and unexpected—a brutal crack of his palm connecting with my ass that jolts my entire body. I yelp into the sheets before I can stop myself, muffled and pathetic, my fingers clenching the silk as the sharp sting blossoms outward in waves of heat.
“That,” Suha says through gritted teeth, his voice gravel and venom—“is for fucking running.”
Before I can recover, another slap lands on the opposite cheek, twice as hard, the force reverberating through my bones. My muscles jerk instinctively, but his heavy hand between my shoulder blades presses me deeper into the mattress, his dominance like a lead weight I can’t shake.
“That,” he snarls, “is for making me chase you through half of Seoul.”
I try to push up—shove back, twist for leverage—but his knee lands between my thighs, pinning my legs, leaving me helpless against the onslaught.
His palm strikes again, the rhythmic thwacks perfectly timed to blur punishment into something else, the pain twisting deliciously into pleasure until my nerves are strung too tight to tell where one ends and the other begins.
“That’s for tying up my men.” Crack. The impact reverberates through me, hot and satisfying.
“For leaving those fucking notes everywhere like it was some goddamn treasure hunt.” Crack.
My hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding against the mattress as fire licks up my spine.
“For thinking”—crack—“you could just waltz back in here”—crack—“whenever you felt like it.”