Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 39: Burning For Him

VIOLET

I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain caught up.

"Zain—wait!"

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

He moved like a wolf barely leashed, muscles tense, every step echoing with power and fury. The halls were dim and narrow, but he filled them like fire. Like danger.

"Zain!" I caught up, grabbing his arm.

He spun so fast, I nearly slammed into him. His chest heaved beneath his open shirt, the scent of pine and storm still clinging to him. His eyes were molten, glowing.

"You should’ve stayed down there," he said lowly, voice trembling with restraint.

"I couldn’t," I snapped. "He’s—he was—"

"Your fiancé?" His voice was poison now, thick with jealousy and rage. "Your human life crawling back to you?"

"That’s not fair."

He laughed bitterly, too quiet. "Fair? Violet, you’ve been here long enough to know nothing about this place is fair."

My hand was still on his arm. His skin was hot. Alive.

I let go.

His gaze dropped to where our fingers had touched.

"Why didn’t you tell me he was down there?" I asked, voice softer now. "You knew. Didn’t you?"

"I didn’t think it mattered," he said, jaw clenched. "Not when you already said you weren’t mine."

My throat tightened.

He turned again, but this time I followed faster.

"Zain—stop running from this."

He stopped so suddenly I nearly collided with his back again. He didn’t turn this time.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he said hoarsely. "Every moment I’m near you, I want to claim you. Mark you. Make you mine so no one—not even your gods-damned past—can take you from me."

The words hung there. Heavy. Real.

"And yet..." he turned now, eyes burning straight through me, "you keep running."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"I’m not running," I whispered. "I just... I didn’t expect this. You. Any of it."

His gaze softened slightly. "Neither did I."

We stood there, two wolves on the edge of something dangerous. The walls hummed with the weight of everything unsaid. My mark throbbed, heat pulsing like a second heartbeat.

He reached up—slowly—like he wasn’t sure I’d let him.

His fingers grazed my jaw, tilting my face toward him.

"You drive me insane," he murmured. "And still, I’d burn down everything just to have you."

My breath caught.

His lips brushed mine.

Not a kiss. Not yet.

Just a taste of what we both wanted.

"Then stop fighting it," I whispered.

The second I said it, his mouth crashed against mine.

Feral. Desperate. And gods, I kissed him back.

Because for one second, there was no Roman.

No cells.

No war or blood or fear.

There was only Zain.

And the way he made me feel like I belonged to something wild and ancient and entirely mine.

The kiss turned molten.

There was no gentle build-up. No hesitation.

His hands were on my waist, hauling me against him like he couldn’t stand even a breath of distance between us. My back hit the wall, hard enough to steal the air from my lungs—but all I could breathe was *him.*

Zain.

His mouth devoured mine like he’d been starving for it. And maybe he had. Maybe we both had.

I curled my fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugged, hard.

The fabric tore with a satisfying sound, baring his chest to the moonlight pouring through the narrow window. His skin was warm and taut over hard muscle, the ridges of old scars and new battle marks lining his sides.

"You’re going to ruin me," he rasped, voice low against my mouth.

"Too late," I whispered, my fingers trailing over his chest, memorizing the heat and strength beneath my touch.

His hands slid down to my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist, and I felt him—every inch of him—pressed against me. I gasped as he ground into me, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear.

"You don’t get to kiss me like that," I breathed, "if you’re going to keep pretending you don’t want me."

"Want you?" he growled. "I ache for you."

One hand fisted in my hair, angling my head as his lips returned to mine with a hunger that made my bones shake. The other slipped under the hem of my shirt, finding bare skin and dragging slow, burning circles along my ribs.

"You smell like fire," he murmured against my neck. "Like war... like mine."

My shirt was next, peeled away and discarded on the stone floor.

His eyes darkened further, the wolf in him rising. But he didn’t touch me—*not yet*. He just looked. Reverent. Starved.

"You’re not ready," he said, but the words came out ragged, like it physically hurt him to say them.

"Then please stop teasing me," I whispered. "Show me. I want it all. I want it now,"

I watched as every bit of control he had in him snapped, like a twig falling off a tree.

His deep brown eyes turned amber red and his claws came out, his large plan pressed me further into him.

I moaned out his name, throwing my head back.

One hand braced against the wall beside my head. The other tangled in my hair again as he kissed me hard, rough and raw, dragging moans from the back of my throat. I clung to him, fingers sliding down his spine, gripping tight as if letting go would shatter me.

Clothing disappeared—somehow, we didn’t stop touching long enough to notice where it all went.

We were in the hallway and I’m pretty sure he has growled at everyone throughly mind link to stay away from here.

Not even the guards were in sight.

The thought made me smile inwardly.

The heat between us built like a storm, tension coiling tighter and tighter until I thought I might explode just from the way he said my name.

But then—

"Violet..."

He paused, forehead pressed to mine, his breathing ragged.

"I want you. Gods, I want you. But if I take you now, I’ll mark you. There’s no holding back."

"No, no please don’t do this. Don’t stop." I pleaded feeling him pull away from me.

"I’ll hurt you," he whispered his hands trembling in my back.

I stared into those burning amber eyes, every part of me trembling. "No you won’t."

"You are not ready."

"I am more than ready." And I whispered the truth that had been rising inside me for days.

"Mark me"

ZAIN

Her words shattered me.

Mark me.

It took every last shred of control I had not to give in. My wolf clawed at my insides, begging to sink my teeth into her skin and seal the bond that already burned between us.

But I couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not now.

I stared down at her—gorgeous, flushed, trembling in my arms, her lips swollen from my kisses, her breath coming fast and shallow.

She was everything I wanted.

Everything.

But if I marked her now, I’d be taking her choices from her.

And I’d promised myself, even in the madness of this moon, that I wouldn’t do that.

I exhaled shakily, pulling back—not far, but just enough for her to feel the absence of my touch.

Her eyes flew open, confusion flickering, then hurt.

"Zain..." she whispered, reaching for me again.

I caught her hand midair. Held it tight. But I didn’t let her pull me back in.

"I can’t," I said hoarsely. "If I start—I won’t stop. And the moment I mark you, there’s no undoing it. No turning back."

Her lips parted, her pupils blown wide.

"I said I wanted it," she hissed. "I want you."

"And I want you," I ground out. "More than you know. But you’re not just a girl I crave, Violet. You’re mine. That means I protect you—even from myself."

I stepped back, like it physically hurt to put space between us.

And it did.

She slid down from the wall slowly, bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. Her expression hardened, her jaw tightening.

She didn’t speak at first.

Then—

"Don’t you dare touch me again," she snapped, her voice sharp and low, laced with rage and pain. "Don’t kiss me. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t come near me."

"Violet..."

"No!" she barked. "You lit a fire in me and then walked away like it meant nothing!"

"It means everything," I growled. "That’s the problem!"

Her body trembled, but not from fear.

From fury.

From heartbreak.

And I’d never hated myself more.

"Get out," she whispered, pointing toward the door, her chest heaving.

I didn’t move.

She grabbed her shirt from the ground, pulling it over her head with shaky hands.

"I said get out, Zain."

I nodded once, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

And I left—without another word, my wolf howling in protest with every step that took me away from her.

Because walking away from your fated mate?

Was a special kind of agony.