Chapter 17 THE WEIGHT OF WANT.
Asher's POV:
Rage.
That’s all I felt in that moment - pure, seething rage burning just beneath my skin.
The second those exact words spilled from Jake Williams’ lips - “We’ve barely even started” \- I felt something inside me snap.
The sound of it was like a spark catching dry timber, and for a heartbeat, I genuinely considered storming over to where he sat with that smug, arrogant expression plastered on his face.
That same smug expression he always wore - the kind that screamed I’m every girl’s temptation. The same one he’d flashed at me just minutes ago in the hallway, eyes glinting with a challenge he probably thought I wouldn’t recognize.
But I did. I saw it. The taunt. The unspoken provocation behind his stare.
I’d held his gaze then, trying to read him, trying to decipher what the hell his motive was by hovering so close to Clara. He wasn’t just another arrogant boy chasing after a pretty girl.
No - there was intent in his actions, purpose behind the casual charm. And though I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was yet, I knew it wasn’t clean.
Something about Jake Williams simply didn’t sit right with me. And I wasn’t saying that out of jealousy or some possessive instinct - no, this was instinct on a far deeper, primal level.
My senses had been trained to detect danger, deceit, and hidden motives long before I ever decided to act as a professor. There was something about him - his scent, his composure, his energy - that rubbed against every buried instinct I had.
It felt… wrong.
But what pushed me further toward the edge wasn’t just him - it was Clara.
Because when I looked at her, she was frozen. Stunned. Those wide blue eyes of hers blinked up at him, her lips parted, breath caught in her throat - like she couldn’t quite process what had just been said.
That look on her face - vulnerable, unguarded - made something dark coil inside me.
I had to tear my gaze away before I did something reckless. My fists clenched beneath the desk, nails digging into my palms hard enough to sting.
Because just a mere glance at her, just seeing her sitting there while he looked at her that way, made me want to cross every line I’d drawn for myself.
Made me want to storm over there and remind her - remind both of them \- of exactly where the line was.
And the worst part? I knew what that meant.
I knew what that impulse truly was.
Punishing Clara wouldn’t have been about discipline. No - it would’ve been pure hostility, pure dominance clawing up from a place I’d kept buried for too long.
Because the truth was, Clara didn’t even need to do anything. She didn’t need to speak or move an inch to drive a man to madness.
She had that quiet pull, that dangerous magnetism she didn’t even realize she possessed - the kind that made every protective instinct in me come alive whether I wanted it to or not.
I exhaled through my nose, slow, measured, trying to steady the rhythm of my breathing. My wolf wasn’t loud yet, but I could feel it stir - restless, territorial, alert.
My hearing sharpened, catching the faint rustle of her bag strap between her fingers, the uneven rhythm of her heartbeat - a dead giveaway that she was nervous.
I could smell her hesitation too — that subtle mix of her perfume and the adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin. It hit me like a current, raw and electric, threading straight through my control.
I wanted to look away, to remind myself why I was here - that she was my student, that I had a purpose beyond this. But the more I told myself to stay detached, the harder it became.
Jake’s voice pulled me back, smooth and steady, far too confident for his own good. He was playing a dangerous game.
Because while I might’ve acted indifferent - distant, composed, unreadable - the truth was, I was hanging by a thread. And if he pushed it just an inch further, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep the mask intact.
So, I stood there, silent, every muscle in my body coiled tight. My gaze lingered on Clara for just one more heartbeat before I forced it down, grounding myself in the dull scratch of pen against paper.
I wasn’t supposed to care. I wasn’t supposed to want. But as Jake’s low chuckle reached my ears, the wolf in me lifted its head - calm, watchful, but ready.
And to reassert my claim - to remind her, and perhaps myself, that she wasn’t just another face in this room - I did what I knew best.
I masked emotion behind authority.
I introduced a new project.
On the surface, it looked like nothing more than another academic challenge, one of those intellectual tasks I often used to push the class beyond their limits.
But this time, it wasn’t coincidence - it was precision.
I designed it for her.
Of course, I couldn’t make it obvious, not with eyes watching, not with Jake Williams sitting just a few seats away pretending to be focused while sneaking glances at her every now and then.
So, I assigned it to everyone - a class-wide project. Individual submissions, personal reflections, graded on interpretation and emotional depth.
The theme?
Forbidden love against moral restraints.
If only they knew.
If only they understood that this wasn’t just a theme - it was a test.
A punishment.
A reminder.
Because by setting that topic, I was deliberately threading the emotional tension between Clara and me right back into the air.
I was forcing both of us to confront what we were desperately pretending didn’t exist.
It was cruel, yes. But it was controlled cruelty - discipline wrapped in professionalism. And beneath that façade, the truth burned steady: I wanted her to remember.
Every touch. Every word. Every mistake that tasted too right to regret.
She shouldn’t forget - and I knew she hadn’t.
The moment I announced the theme; I caught the flicker in her eyes. That brief flash of realization, followed by a sharp inhale she couldn’t disguise. She couldn’t even bring herself to look in my direction.
Good. She understood.
That was enough.
When I dismissed the class, I had no intention of following her immediately. She needed distance - and I needed control.
But when she stormed out, I felt the faintest pull in my chest, that same invisible thread that had tethered me to her since the day fate threw us back into each other’s orbit.
Then I saw him.
Jake Williams.
Following her out.
Calling her name.
Bold. Too bold.
I told myself to stay put, to let it go, to not react like the man I used to be - but restraint only lasts so long.
The sound of his voice echoing down the hallway, the casual tone, the concern laced with familiarity - it clawed under my skin.
By the time I’d packed my things and stepped out of the classroom, I already knew something was wrong.
And what I saw next…
Jake Williams standing too close to her, words spilling out like he’d been rehearsing them for days.
“I love you, Clara.”
“I’m not leaving anytime soon.”
“Go out with me.”
Each sentence was a strike to my restraint.
Each word made my blood boil hotter.
I could hear the rush of it in my ears - the pulse, the fury, the low growl that rumbled just beneath my breath. My wolf stirred violently, claws raking at the inside of my ribs, begging to be let loose.
He was touching what wasn’t his.
Looking at what wasn’t his.
Speaking words that didn’t belong to him.
And when Clara turned, her gaze interlocked with mine from behind him - the air stilled.
For a moment, no one else existed.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and I saw it - guilt, shock, and confusion.
I didn’t know who I wanted to hurt more in that moment.
Jake - for being too bold, too fearless, too blind to the danger he was walking into.
Or Clara - for letting him get that close, for letting him believe he could.
My jaw tightened, my pulse thundering in my ears. Every instinct in me screamed to move, to close the distance, to remind him exactly who he was challenging.
But I didn’t.
Not yet.
Because even in my fury, I knew one thing - one truth that settled deep in my chest like a warning I could no longer ignore:
If Jake Williams thought he could touch what was mine - what fate had already claimed for me -
Then he was gravely mistaken.