8. Aksel

8

AKSEL

M y mind races with conflicting desires while I pace the length of my bedroom. The hunger to possess Zara, to mark her as mine, burns through me like an inferno. But an unexpected fear has taken root—the fear that she might come to harm.

I had meticulously planned every detail, determined to hunt her down like a doe and kill her like that wolf would have. And yet, her beauty and innocence are an irresistible lure, tempting me to unleash a different beast.

Clenching my fists, I try to regain control over the swirling storm of emotions. I am the master here, the apex predator. No one dictates my actions or weakens my resolve. And yet...

Zara's defiant spirit and alluring innocence have awoken something primal, something I thought long buried. The need to protect her battles with the urge to defile her, to strip away her purity and claim her as my own.

Growling in frustration, I rake my fingers through my hair. How can one woman disrupt the carefully constructed facade I've built? The plans I had in place and the thrill of the hunt all seem to pale compared to this newfound obsession.

As I continue to pace, my muscles tense with restless energy. The scent of Zara's shampoo, which smells like vanilla and roses, lingers in my nostrils, taunting me with memories of her damp hair clinging to her flushed skin. A low groan escapes my lips as I imagine pinning her beneath me, her cries of pleasure mingling with fearful pleas.

Enough. I need to regain control before this fragile creature unravels me completely. Forcing myself to stillness, I take deep breaths and refocus my thoughts. Zara may have inadvertently awakened something within me, but I will not be undone.

I am the hunter, and she is my prey. Whether I choose to cherish or destroy her remains to be seen.

My cock jerks in my pants, and I realize ignoring it is just making things fucking worse. I haven't masturbated in years. Sex has never been something I'm bothered about. I can take it or leave it, but this girl turns up, and my dick is a fucking steel pole ever since.

I growl in frustration, feeling my cock straining against the confines of my jeans. Enough of this foolishness. I'm in control here, not some raging hormone-addled boy.

Ripping open my belt, I yank down my zipper and free my throbbing dick. The thick shaft pulses in my calloused hand as I give it a firm stroke from base to tip. A guttural groan rumbles from my chest at the much-needed friction.

Bracing one hand against the wall, I lean forward and pump my fist along my rigid cock. Flashes of Zara's flushed cheeks and parted lips invade my mind, stoking the flames. I visualize her on her knees before me, those innocent eyes wide as she takes in the sight of my dick.

"You want this, don't you, littlefugl?" I growl her nickname in Norwegian through gritted teeth, increasing the pace of my strokes. "Beg for it. Beg me to ruin you."

My fantasy Zara whimpers and squirms, torn between fear and wanton need. The thought of defiling her, of marking that flawless skin with my teeth and cum, has me leaking.

Reaching down, I cup my balls and give them a rough squeeze, groaning at the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain. My muscles flex and strain as I chase my release, sweat beading along my brow.

Visions of pinning Zara beneath me, her lithe body writhing as I claim her, push me closer to the edge. I pump my fist furiously, chasing that elusive peak, until finally?—

With a feral snarl, I come undone. Hot ropes of cum spurt from my cock, coating the wall and floor in my release. I brace myself on shaking arms, panting harshly when the waves of euphoria crest and ebb.

As the haze of lust clears, I eye the mess I've made with a mixture of disdain and dark amusement. Seems the little bird has more of an effect on me than I'd like. But this was merely a momentary lapse, a way to blow off some steam. I won't allow her to derail me again.

Tucking myself back into my pants, I clean my cum off the floor and wall and then look at myself in the mirror.

"Get it together, Aksel," I coach.

The storm has passed, but I didn't allow Zara to go out today. She won't like it, but after she almost got torn apart by a wolf today, there's no way she's doing any of her research alone. I'll be with her every step of the way.

Convinced I can handle myself tonight and the incessant need satiated, I return to the living room to the delicious scent of food cooking.

Zara is a wonderful cook, as the delicious quiche she made showed. When I get to the kitchen, she's wearing a longer maxi dress that's not so revealing and an apron on, prancing happily around like she belongs here. It's so odd seeing her in my space and not hating it.

I lean against the doorframe, arms folded across my chest, watching. The sway of her hips and the contented smile on her face as she cooks are so domestic—cozy, even. It's a strange sight to behold in my isolated little realm.

"Smells good, littlefugl," I rumble, calling her by my new nickname for her. Little bird in Norwegian.

Zara startles, nearly dropping the spatula in her hand. "Oh! Aksel, you scared me." She presses a hand to her chest, those full lips curving into an embarrassed smile. "I'm just making us some pasta for dinner. I hope you don't mind that I raided your cupboards."

My eyes rake over her appreciatively. "You're welcome to raid anything of mine you'd like."

A delicious blush stains her cheeks at my blatant innuendo. Zara focuses intently on the simmering pot before her. I push off from the doorframe, drawn to her like a fucking magnet.

Prowling up behind her, I let my body heat scorch her back as I crowd her against the counter. A tremor runs through her slight frame when my hands bracket her hips, caging her in.

"You seem right at home here," I murmur, lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear. Zara inhales a shuddering breath, her pulse fluttering.

"A-Aksel...I was just?—"

"Shh." I silence her with a firm squeeze of her hips.

Turning her in my arms, I savor her flushed cheeks and full lips. Those green eyes are wide and shining with a heady mix of fear and desire. So beautiful. So tempting.

Reaching up, I brush away a stray lock of golden hair from her face. Zara leans into my touch like a flower seeking the sun, her lush lashes fluttering closed.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little bird," I warn in a low rumble. "Are you sure you want to wake the beast?"

Those emerald eyes open, gleaming with a flash of defiance that has me clenching my jaw. Slowly, deliberately, Zara trails her hands up my chest until they're splayed over my thundering heart.

"And if I do?" she breathes, holding my heated stare. "What then, Mr. Wolf?"

A feral growl rumbles up from my chest as I yank her flush against me. She gasps at the undeniable evidence of my arousal grinding against her belly.

"Then you'll get more than you bargained for, baby girl."

The alarm's shrill beeping slices through the thick tension, jarring us both from the heated moment. Zara jumps away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide like a startled deer. She hurries to remove the steaming pot from the burner with a trembling hand.

I remain rooted in place, chest heaving while I struggle to rein in the raging beast she's awoken. My cock strains painfully against the confines of my jeans.

How is it possible that this slight creature holds such power over me? I had prepared for every eventuality, every twist and turn. Yet, her mere presence derails me in ways I cannot comprehend.

Gritting my teeth, I look away while she busies herself with serving the pasta. I won't be undone by a pair of wide, innocent eyes and a coy smile.

And yet...my body refuses to obey, my cock throbbing insistently. How is it possible to be this ravenous after having just jerked off to climax mere moments ago?

The beast within me snarls, pacing the confines of its cage as I wrestle for control. I had planned to hunt her, to take my time and savor the thrill of the chase. But now? Now, I find myself being pursued, tormented by her every movement.

Zara turns to face me, a hesitant smile curving those full lips. "Dinner's ready," she says softly.

Goddamn it. So tempting, so ripe for the taking.

Slowly, deliberately, I relax my clenched fists and attempt to uncoil the taut muscles that strain for release. I'm the master of my fate, the captain of this storm, and I'll weather it on my own terms.

"Let's eat," I rumble, gesturing for her to sit.

I watch Zara intently as she settles at the table, her every movement sending ripples of desire through my body. The simple act of her lifting the fork to those full lips is enough to have my cock straining.

I focus on the food before me rather than the tempting creature across from me. Each bite is like ash in my mouth as I wrestle with the raging beast clawing at its confines.

Zara appears oblivious to my internal struggle, her delicate brows furrowed in thought as she chews. Those emerald eyes keep flicking to meet my heated stare before shying away.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, finally breaking the weighted silence between us. "You seem tense."

I nearly choke on my next bite at the blatant understatement. Tense doesn't even begin to cover the storm roiling through my veins. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, aching for release in a way I've never experienced before.

Forcing a smile, I incline my head. "Just fine, littlefugl. Eat your food before it gets cold."

Zara worries her full lower lip, seeming unconvinced. But she obeys nonetheless, turning her attention back to her plate. "What does littlefugl mean?"

I grind my teeth. "Little bird in Norwegian."

Her brow furrows as she meets my gaze. "Why do you call me little bird?" She demands.

So many fucking questions. "No more questions," I growl, "Eat your food."

She does as she's told, and the simple act of submission, no matter how small, has desire flaring hot in my gut. I imagine her kneeling before me, head bowed in deference, as I stroke her golden hair. A shudder wracks my frame at the vivid image, my fork clattering to the plate.

"Aksel?" Zara's soft voice cuts through the haze of lust. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Before I can respond, she reaches across the table to lay her hand atop mine.

The instant Zara's soft hand touches mine, it's like a jolt of electricity shooting straight to my cock. Every nerve ending in my body ignites with a searing need, a primal hunger that leaves me breathless.

Her brow furrows in concern. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? The words echo in my mind, taunting me with their innocent naivety. If only she knew the dark desires that swirl through me like a tempest, threatening to tear down the carefully constructed walls I've built.

With a herculean effort, I go still, refusing to give in to the beast that claws at its cage. I'm not some lust-crazed animal or a slave to my baser instincts.

Slowly, deliberately, I turn my hand beneath hers until our palms are pressed together. Zara's breath hitches at the intimate contact, her pupils dilating until the green is nearly swallowed by black.

"Nothing is wrong, littlefugl," I rumble. "I'm simply enjoying your company."

A delicate shiver wracks her frame as I brush the pad of my thumb over the skin of her wrist. So soft, so delicate. Like the finest porcelain begging to be marred and broken.

The beast howls its approval, urging me to claim this tempting creature and ravage her until she's marked with my scent, my essence. But I can't—won't—give in so easily.

With monumental restraint, I disentangle my fingers from hers and sit back in my chair.

Zara blinks rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and quickly withdraws her hand.

An awkward silence stretches between us, thick with tension. I can practically taste the desire in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of her shampoo and driving me half-mad.

Gritting my teeth, I reach for my glass of water and drain it in one burning swallow. The icy liquid does little to quell the inferno raging in my veins and soul.

Zara fidgets across from me, worrying her full lower lip in that delectable way that has me imagining all manner of sinful activities. Unable to bear the weighted silence a moment longer, she clears her throat.

"I should clean up," she murmurs, rising abruptly from the table.

As she moves to gather the dishes, I also find myself rising. Zara freezes as I crowd in behind her for the second time, the plates clattering in her trembling hands. The floral scent of her shampoo envelops me. I inhale deeply, committing that intoxicating aroma to memory.

"Allow me," I rumble, reaching around to still her movements.

My chest presses flush against her back as I loom over her petite frame. Zara's breath comes in shallow pants, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath my fingertips when I brush them over the slender column of her throat. So delicate, so fragile. Like a newborn fawn taking its first, unsteady steps.

I could so easily overwhelm her, crush her against me until she surrendered to the storm raging between us.

"You seem tense, littlefugl," I murmur, allowing my lips to graze the delicate shell of her ear. Zara shivers, her grip tightening on the plates until her knuckles turn white. "Perhaps you need to relax."

Slowly, deliberately, I trail my hands down her arms until I cover hers. I guide her movements, gently prying the dishes from her grip and setting them on the counter.

Zara doesn't protest, doesn't pull away from me. If anything, she melts further into me, her back arching in a way that has me gritting my teeth.

"There, that's better," I rumble, letting my hands linger on her hips. "Wouldn't want you to overexert yourself."

A breathy whimper slips past those full lips as I tease the sensitive skin at the base of her neck with my lips. Zara's head falls back against my shoulder, those emerald eyes slipping closed in silent surrender.

The beast preens at her reaction and how she instinctively bares her throat. It would be so easy to mark that creamy flesh, to sink my teeth into her until she cries out my name in euphoric agony.

Instead, I merely brush my lips over her wildly fluttering pulse point, relishing the full-body shudder that wracks her frame. Zara clutches at my forearms, where they're wrapped around her midriff, silently begging for more.

I finally release her from my embrace and step back with a chuckle, leaving her flushed and trembling against the counter.

"Get some rest," I toss over my shoulder as I head for the living room. "You'll need your energy for tomorrow."

As I settle onto the worn couch, the scent of Zara still clings to me like a heady perfume. Closing my eyes, I commit every hitched breath and whimper to memory. She may have escaped my clutches for now, but the game has only just begun.

The hunt is still on, and my prey has yet to learn how determined her hunter can be.