Chapter 14 Aniyah
ANIYAH
What the hell came over me?
I landed hard, my heels clicking against the stage floor, wolf cum sliding down my thigh. The sharp musk of sex clung to the air. Around me, the chorus of heavy panting still echoed, everyone breathless, spent.
A low groan came from behind. I turned and found the male wolf, my tool, slumped, his chest heaving, on the verge of passing out.
Shit.
I darted to him, grabbed the pegs, and spun the wheel, flipping him upright. Supes healed fast, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.
He sucked in air like he’d been drowning, and a small stab of guilt wormed its way under my skin. What did I do to this poor bastard?
I started uncuffing him, one wrist at a time. My mind wouldn’t stop circling. He wasn’t the one who’d triggered my rage and lit the fuse to this brutal, messy display of dominance.
Then wet heat slipped down between my legs, and just like that, guilt evaporated. What do I have to feel bad about?
He knew the risks when he came tonight. He knew someone might get pulled on stage. I even gave him outs. Multiple. After strapping him in.
I crouched and undid the ankle cuffs.
He had fun too, for fuck’s sake.The cum on my leg said everything I needed to know. Hell, this was probably the best fuck of his damn life. I didn’t fuck just anyone.
Okay… I did fuck him, but that wasn’t the norm for me. Usually, I got the lucky bastard who shared the stage with me off with nothing but my powers, flooding their minds with what they desired most until they melted on the floor. But tonight… I didn’t use them.
Why the hell didn’t I use them?
My lower back pulsed, that now-familiar burn blooming again, sharper this time. Five pricks, all centered where I knew the invisible roses lived on my skin. What the fuck? Is something happening to my tattoo?
Not having the mental capacity to handle all that, I put a pin in it and stood up, wiping my hands to stop them from shaking. “You’re free to go. Thank you,” I said coolly, then turned and flew offstage, ignoring the audience and the final bows I normally took.
“Wait!” he called, stumbling behind me, still adjusting to solid ground. I didn’t look back. I slipped through the curtains before he could follow.
Marty was there, holding my silk robe like always. I slid into it just as Van called my name from the other side of the stage, but I was not in the mood for his knowing eyes or the consequences of what I’d just done.
“Stall for me,” I muttered. Marty nodded, lips pressed in a disapproving line as he faced Van's way. Loyal to the end.
With a snap of my wings, I tore out the door and down the hall.
I didn’t want the wolf to chase me. I didn’t want to hear how “powerful” or “unhinged” my performance was from the club members.
I didn’t want to face Van’s concern, or Lucus’ judgmental stare, or god fucking forbid Alic, not until my walls were back up, covering the vulnerability I was feeling now.
I needed my office, to lock the door, to breathe, but when I turned the corner, Lucus was already there. Arms crossed, his eyes burned a hole straight through the door, so I ducked back behind the wall.
Fuck.
New plan.
I needed somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere even I wouldn’t think to look.
My mind spun. Not the talent's get ready rooms. They’d be loyal and wouldn’t snitch, but they weren’t convincing enough to fool Van. Not the security room. Those guys worshipped Alic, always talking about how big and fast he was. The specialty rooms would be checked within minutes.
Then Ezra’s voice floated into my memory, smug and helpful. “Every business needs a conference room, Aniyah. Even if you use it for storage.”
Of course. The conference room I used to store past tax documents. The glorified closet only Beth the accountant knew existed.
I doubled back and ducked into the dim emergency hall, the red exit sign casting the space in crimson gloom. I’d refused to install more lights here—a petty screw-you to Ezra for making me include that damn room when I didn't want to.
Now, I was silently thanking her.
I grabbed the handle of the inconspicuous door and slipped inside, pulling it shut behind me. Cool darkness wrapped around me like a weighted blanket.
Finally, silence.
Finally, alone.
Moving away from the door, I slid along the wall until my back hit cold concrete. The chill grounded me. I let it. I took a few steady breaths, each one jagged around the edges.
I’ve never been this mad before. Not truly. Not like this.
Growing up the way I did, the world was always laid out in front of me like a sparkling buffet. Say the right things, flash the right smile, play the right card, twist someone’s desire in just the right way… and voilà. Power.
I didn’t have to be the funny, scrappy fighter like Nova. Didn’t have to be smart and ambitious like Calix. Didn’t need Riot’s brutal speed or Ezra’s ruthless strength.
I just had to be me.
Glitter and shine. The dream they couldn’t look away from. A fantasy dressed in skin, diamonds, and heels.
As the baby of the family, someone was always there to catch me. My parents. My grandfathers. My siblings. They all made sure the path was smooth, the world softened at the edges for me.
I should’ve been grateful. Should’ve felt lucky that I didn’t have to claw my way through the blood and dirt like the rest of them, but all it did was make me feel lesser, like I hadn’t earned my place. Like I was just a pretty little placeholder among monsters.
We were raised the same, trained by the same parents, taught the same lessons. I learned the trades, the secrets, the ruthless inner workings of the Syndicate. And still, they treated me like I was porcelain. Precious. Breakable.
Then came the night I turned twenty-one. The night I’d had to fend for myself.
No parents to shield me. No siblings to swoop in. No grandfathers to fix things.
Just me. Raw. Unfiltered. And I found something inside. A depth I hadn’t known was there. A violent, vicious fire that matched theirs. Maybe I hadn’t needed to use it before, but it had always been waiting.
That night, I proved I was Aniyah Glovefox, daughter of Rayla Desmond, through and through. The next morning, we were inducted, each of us stepping into our roles as bosses.
Then Ezra pivoted us to legitimacy, wanting real businesses to complement the dirty ones, and I threw myself into the Winged Palace. Built it up. Controlled it. Dazzled.
But that darker version of me? I hadn’t let her out again, not until tonight.
It wasn’t just Alic’s betrayal that triggered it. That was the match, but the fuel was something older. Something deeper. A voice that whispered I wasn’t enough. Not hard enough. Not dangerous enough. And Alic... Alic confirmed it. Not with words, but by going behind my back to Nova.
I knew he meant well, but all it told me was that he didn’t believe I had it in me. So, tonight, I showed him.
A sharp pinch jolted from my lower back. I hissed through my teeth, eyes fluttering closed. My lip caught between them as I arched my back against the pain.
*It was probably because of that that I didn't hear the door open, not until it was too late.
“Why, Ni?” His large, thick hand circled my throat, clenching the sides so carefully, like I could break. It was cute that even now he was being so soft, so concerned for me.
Lifting my lids, I looked into his wide golden ones, mesmerized by how pure the color was. He asked me again, and this time he rested his forehead on mine. “Why, Ni?”
“Do you see me now?”
His whole body tightened against mine, everything but the hand on my neck, so I poked the bear again.
“Do you see what I’m capable of?” Pushing my face forward, I choked myself with his hand. “Do I look like I’m fucking fragile? That I can’t handle my own shit? Is that what you think?”
His breath came out ragged, eyes falling to the side as his hand loosened its grip. Once again, he was treating me like I was fragile, weak, but I would make sure he didn't see me that way anymore.
Holding his hand at my neck, I pressed harder, curling my fingers atop his, pressing enough to make my head spin.
“I'm more than just some princess in a castle.” His sunshine eyes came back to me, wide and unsure. I wrapped a leg around his waist, grinding myself against him as I cut my breath even shorter. “I'm the monster behind the pretty face, luring you to your doom.”
I could see his eyes darkening, his breathing turned measured as he pressed back into me. His hard length rubbed up against my tender center. I couldn't keep from letting out a strangled moan, and to my surprise, his hand tightened, cutting it off.
With my breath stolen and my body wound up tight, my heart skipped a beat. Did he… Was he… finally giving in?
With a shaky hand, he leaned in closer, his whole body trembling as his lips skimmed my cheek. His voice cracked, soft and broken. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, and I didn’t care.
This was the farthest he’d ever let us go, and I wasn’t about to reject him now.
I wanted all of him, even the ruined, jagged parts.
If offering myself in return helped him trust me, even just a little, that was enough. It was called sex logic.
His grip loosened just enough for me to tilt my chin and smile. “Yes,” I whispered. “I want it all.”
Something snapped behind his eyes. The sorrow that once furrowed his brow melted, devoured by a hunger so old and vicious it felt like I’d just cracked open a vault that was never meant to see daylight.
His fingers tightened around my waist, hard enough to bruise, before one hand rose to my throat, lifting me like I weighed nothing, pinning me high against the wall. “This what you want?” he growled. “For me to be rough?”