Page 6

Chapter six

Viktor

Viktor hit the other werewolf like a wrecking ball, tackling him clean off Nick and slamming him into the ground. They went down hard, the impact rattling through Viktor’s bones, dirt flying as they rolled in a tangle of limbs, snarls ripping through the night air.

The other werewolf fought back, but he was weaker. Slower. Viktor overpowered him with ease, shoving him down, crushing him into the earth until the bastard had nowhere left to go. He straddled his waist, muscles flexed, his forearm braced against the werewolf’s throat, pressing just enough to feel his pulse hammer beneath his skin.

"He’s mine." The words came low, gritted out through bared teeth, each syllable sharp and heavy with menace. "Touch him again, and I’ll tear your throat out."

In a frantic, scrambling movement, the other werewolf twisted free, bolting into the darkness. Coward.

Viktor stood over the spot where he’d been, chest heaving, breath still coming too fast, his claws flexing at his sides like he hadn't quite gotten enough. The burn of adrenaline still thrummed in his blood, the itch to rip and tear not yet satisfied.

A sound behind him. A sharp inhale. A body shifting against rough bark. Viktor turned.

Nick was sliding down the oak, his limbs finally giving out. Sweat slicked his skin, glistening under the moonlight. His throat was marked red from where clawed fingertips had pressed too hard. His chest still rose and fell too fast, like he hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that he was safe.

Viktor expected thanks. He expected submission.

Instead, Nick lifted his chin. His eyes met Viktor’s, glassy with exhaustion, but still cutting like a knife. "What do you want?"

The question hit Viktor like a physical blow. After everything—after marking him and then rescuing him from another wolf—Nick still had the nerve to challenge him?!

Frustration clawed at Viktor’s insides, sharp and restless, twisting into something darker. His body still thrummed from the fight, from the raw physicality of overpowering another wolf, from the primal satisfaction of watching an enemy run from him. His blood was hot, his pulse still pounding in his ears, his cock still hard from the rush of adrenaline and dominance.

And Nick—stubborn, sharp-tongued, impossible Nick—had the fucking audacity to look at him like he hadn’t just been seconds away from being overpowered.

Viktor tried to steady the fire licking through his veins. Nick smelled like him. His scent clung to that overheated skin, soaked into him, a reminder of what had already happened between them. And it still wasn’t enough.

“I just saved your ass,” Viktor growled, voice rough, low, threatening. “Aren’t you even grateful?”

Nick, ever the defiant little bastard, didn’t flinch. “I didn’t ask for your protection,” he spat. But Viktor caught the way his voice wavered, the slight tremor at the edges. Not fear.

Something else .

Viktor’s muscles coiled tight as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Nick didn’t back away. Heat rolled off him in waves, his bare skin flushed from exertion, from fear, from whatever dangerous game they were playing. Viktor inhaled deeply, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, blood surging south.

He had already seen Nick spread out beneath him, already felt him shudder under his hands, already heard the sounds he made when he was undone. His cock throbbed at the memory, at the phantom sensation of Nick's cock hard against him as Viktor pinned him against the ground.

Nick swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Viktor’s eyes followed the movement despite himself.

"You really want to be used, Nick?" The words came out as a growl, something dark and hungry curling around them.

Nick inhaled sharply. His pulse jumped beneath his skin, his pupils dilating, the barest flicker of something uncertain in those infuriatingly blue eyes before he locked it down. Viktor saw it. He felt it. And it sent a fresh surge of hunger through his veins.

Nick smelled right like this—wrecked and worn down, his skin still marked from earlier, sticky with dried evidence of Viktor’s dominance. The wolf inside him rumbled with satisfaction, pleased with the scent, pleased with the lingering proof that Nick had already been marked.

But it wasn’t enough.

When it came to this asshole, it was never enough.

Viktor towered over him, fully hard now, aching with the need to finish what they started. Nick’s breath came too quick, his skin flushed, his fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to push Viktor away or pull him closer.

Every instinct screamed at Viktor to pin him down again, to show him what it really meant to be owned by a wolf.

But then Nick’s lips curled.

That infuriating smirk—the same one that had driven him insane at work, the same one that had pushed him over the edge tonight. Even here, naked, vulnerable, covered in Viktor’s scent, Nick had the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Oh, I get it. That's why you’re stalking me tonight—you want me all to yourself.”

The truth was there, buried under layers of rage and denial, but it still stung. Viktor's teeth ground together, the words of protest stuck in his throat. "Fuck you."

Nick's chest still heaved from the fight, but his gaze flicked downward, locking onto Viktor’s cock. His pupils dilated for just a second before his expression twisted into something more controlled—more deliberate. He swallowed, then lifted his chin, forcing a smirk.

"Look at you," he said, voice rasping from the earlier struggle but laced with mocking amusement. "Hard for me again . Were you hoping I'd need saving just so you could get your hands on me a second time?"

"Shut up," Viktor growled. Not his finest work, and Nick knew it. Viktor saw it in the way Nick’s smirk widened, in the way his shoulders squared despite the slight tremor running through them.

"Why?" Nick stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Nick tilted his head, blue eyes flashing with something unreadable. "You don't like hearing the truth? That you followed me through the woods like some desperate little lapdog, hoping I'd get in trouble so you'd have an excuse to—" He exhaled, looking Viktor up and down—mostly down.

Something flickered behind his eyes.

Nick's tongue darted out to wet his lips, but the motion lacked its earlier cockiness. He dragged in a breath through his nose, slow and steady, and then he forced himself to look back up at Viktor, that damned smirk returning—but it was something else now.

"Guess I’ll have to do something about this little problem," he murmured, voice lower than before. He stepped even closer, so close that Viktor could feel his body heat, could hear the unsteady rhythm of his pulse. "Otherwise, you’ll just keep chasing me all night, won’t you?"

The words were meant to taunt, but Viktor could hear the shift. Nick was losing a battle against himself. His lashes flickered as he looked down again, staring at Viktor’s cock like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t interested—that he wasn’t about to give in. But his body told a different story. His own cock was hard now, flushed and eager despite the way he kept pretending he was the one in control.

Viktor could practically hear the argument happening inside Nick’s head.

The part of him that wanted to fight, to push back, to be difficult just for the sake of it—that part was losing.

And the part of him that wanted— needed —was winning.

Viktor saw the exact second it happened. Nick’s breath hitched. His fingers flexed at his sides, his jaw tightening. His eyes flickered, blue cutting like a blade, still sharp… even as he dropped to his knees.

Viktor’s lungs seized, heat flooding through his body so fast it nearly unmade him.

He hadn’t expected this. Not from Nick. Not like this .

Even now, as Nick knelt before him, as his hands came up, palms bracing against Viktor’s thighs, he was watching him, studying every flicker of his reaction, the same way he did in those boardroom meetings, waiting for any sign of weakness to exploit.

Viktor stared down at Nick kneeling before him on the forest floor, the moonlight casting shadows across his rival's face. How many times had he imagined this? Nick on his knees, that perpetual smirk finally wiped away—yet even now, even here, Nick refused to give him the satisfaction of complete surrender.

His cock stood rigid between them, flushed and straining, the veins prominent against the taut skin. It was almost painful how hard he was, how desperate Nick had made him. Viktor hated him for it. Hated how much he needed this. Hated that smug look in Nick's eyes that said he knew exactly what he was doing to him.

"You're testing my patience," Viktor growled, his accent thickening with frustration.

Nick's gaze never wavered as his fingers traced up the underside of Viktor's length with maddening slowness. The touch was light, sending electric pulses through Viktor's groin that made his thighs tense and his breath catch in his throat.

"Fuck," Viktor bit out, his cock twitching visibly under Nick's attentions, a bead of moisture forming at the tip. He was unraveling, losing control, and they both knew it. The power dynamic shifted with every second Nick prolonged his torment.

Just when Viktor thought he might snap—might grab Nick and demand what he needed—Nick finally, finally leaned forward. His hot breath ghosted over the sensitive head, and then his tongue, wet and warm, dragged deliberately across the swollen tip, collecting the evidence of Viktor's desperation.

Viktor's vision darkened at the edges, a groan tearing from deep in his chest. One taste, and he was already coming undone.

Nick’s smirk was pure sin, like he had just gotten exactly the reaction he wanted. "Something wrong?" he murmured, voice rough, but still with that same infuriating arrogance.

Viktor growled low, the sound a warning, but Nick only chuckled, dragging his tongue over the sensitive underside this time, slow, teasing, calculated. Viktor’s fingers itched, his wolf snarling inside his chest, caught between triumph and something far more dangerous.

Nick kept his eyes locked on him as he wrapped his fingers around Viktor’s length, squeezing just enough to send a violent shudder down his spine.

Then, finally, he took him in.