CHAPTER 16
Bryant's POV:
I stared outside my window enjoying the Palace scenery... I don't know why tonight I was feeling horny...
This is the longest time I have been celibate... My wolf really needs to mate... Not like I don't want to cheat on my Luna but I don't find myself fantasizing over any woman whatsoever...
The fact about me is that I don't really fuck the same pussy twice maybe except from Maltida....and I don't fuck low class...
I immediately remembered Rosa... The way she seduced me that day has been hunting me... That girl is really wild... The way she goes from seducing me to trying to stab me...
I was fucking hard right now and I definitely need a cold shower... Well, not that I can't have sex with Rosa but something in me doesn't want to hurt her... It is definitely not love, I reassured myself...
I entered the bathroom and had a bath for over an hour...
The moment I walked out of the bathroom I found out the light in my room was off... I held onto a small pocket knife I had with me and suddenly a light came on changing colors... More like red, dark colors...
I saw a sexy figure in beautiful lingerie... My manhood rose immediately without warning... The knife in my hand fell off as the figure came near me...
That is definitely Rosa... That's her scent...
Bryant's POV (Continued)
The second she touched me, logic abandoned me.
Her fingers trailed boldly down my abdomen, and I dropped the knife like it was nothing. All I could feel was her—that unmistakable scent of Rosa—wild roses mixed with fire and danger. My wolf stirred.
Her lingerie shimmered in the shifting red light, clinging to every sinful curve like it was painted on her. Her eyes never left mine, yet they said so many things. Apology. Challenge. Desire.
Then her hand slid lower—deliberately, confidently—and I snapped.
I growled, deep and primal, flipping her over onto the bed so fast she gasped. Her soft laugh ignited something dangerous in me.
I kissed her—hard, possessive. Her lips tasted like temptation. My hands roamed, claiming, gripping her hips, her waist, her breasts as if to memorize her. She arched into me, moaning sweetly into my ear, and it was the sound that did it.
Not wine.
Not lust.
Her voice.
I couldn't stop.
I tore the thin fabric off her body, leaving nothing between us but heat. She was radiant under the dim lights, skin glowing like forbidden treasure. Her fingers tangled in my hair as I kissed a path down her neck, across her chest, and lower—her breathing ragged, her hands trembling.
She responded to every touch like she was made for me.
Her body moved with mine in perfect rhythm—delicate but fierce, soft but unapologetically bold. She didn't shy away. She met me. Matched me. Overwhelmed me.
The room pulsed with tension and fire as our bodies intertwined, lost in sensation. The red light flickered as shadows danced across the walls. The bed groaned beneath us. Time blurred.
It wasn't just sex. Not tonight.
It was war and surrender.
She moaned my name like it was a prayer and a curse.
I held her close as we reached the peak, both of us breathless, trembling—ruined in the best way possible.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
I buried my face in her neck, still trying to catch my breath. She ran her fingers down my back, and my heart did something it wasn't supposed to.
Thump.
A little too hard.
I clenched my jaw. This wasn't love, I reminded myself again.
Just release.
Just lust.
But when she whispered my name again—soft, vulnerable—I wasn't so sure anymore.