CHAPTER 6
Giselle’s POV
I froze the moment I stepped into the hallway that led behind the gym. The cold air brushed my arms, sending goosebumps racing across my skin, but I forced myself forward. My head was spinning from Khuraan’s ridiculous claim at the dinner table. Mate? Him? Impossible.
I was done with their games, done with being their toy.
Yet the second I turned the corner, a strong hand slammed against the wall right beside my head, trapping me instantly. My heart jolted painfully in my chest.
“You really have nerves, Giselle,” Khuraan's deep voice growled dangerously close to my ear.
A shiver rippled down my spine despite my anger, making my breath hitch involuntarily. I flinched, stepping back, only for him to press his powerful frame against me, pinning me helplessly between his unyielding body and the cold, unforgiving wall.
“Get off me!” I hissed, anger blazing fiercely despite the tremor in my voice. My hands pushed uselessly against his solid chest.
He smirked, his eyes glittering with dark amusement. “You walked out while I was still talking. That’s a mistake.”
“I don’t care!” I spat, fighting the humiliation that rose swiftly. “You made a fool of me in front of everyone!”
His response was swift, brutal. His fingers wrapped tightly around my throat, squeezing enough to steal my breath, but not quite enough to silence my furious heartbeat.
I gasped, panic mixing intoxicatingly with something deeper, darker. “K–Khuraan… let… me go.”
“I hate it when people test my patience,” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft, lips just inches from mine. His breath warmed my skin, igniting a shameful heat within me. “And you, little girl, are pushing every damn limit.”
His grip tightened mercilessly, and my lungs burned with desperate need. Fear clawed sharply at my chest, yet beneath the panic was a treacherous, dizzying thrill that made my pulse race faster. My nails scratched at his hand, frantic, furious, but my traitorous body trembled at the ruthless command in his eyes.
Just when I felt consciousness slipping, he suddenly let go. I collapsed forward, coughing violently, but strong arms caught me easily before I hit the unforgiving floor. Even in punishment, he wouldn't let me escape so easily.
“Next time,” he murmured coldly, his fingers brushing away strands of my hair in a disturbingly gentle gesture, “I won’t be so generous.”
I opened my mouth to curse him, but he beat me to it.
“Kneel.”
Shock coursed through me, ice-cold and blazing hot simultaneously. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said calmly, his voice sharper, more dangerous. “Kneel and apologize for walking out like a brat.”
“You’re insane,” I spat, my defiance flaring brightly even as my voice trembled.
He gave me a lazy, lethal smile. “And you’re still standing. Should I make you?”
I tried stepping around him defiantly, but he shoved me hard, my knees crashing painfully against the cold marble floor with a humiliating crack.
“Ah!” Tears stung my eyes, shame and anger roaring through my veins, mingling dangerously with the intoxicating heat his dominance provoked.
“Much better,” he said smoothly, towering over me like an untouchable, merciless god. “Now apologize.”
“Go to hell.”
Wrong answer.
His strong hand yanked roughly at my hair, forcing my head back. A small, humiliating whimper escaped me despite my fury. “Careful, princess. That tongue might get you in more trouble.”
“You’re a monster,” I whispered, my voice trembling with rage and something darker, something forbidden.
His smirk deepened. “And you? You're a bratty little tease who likes pushing buttons. Why else would you wear that tiny nightgown and wander the house?”
“I wasn’t teasing anyone,” I bit out, hating how my cheeks burned fiercely, betraying my words.
“Oh, you were. Your scent drove me insane, Giselle. You think I didn’t notice how your thighs trembled when I touched you earlier?”
My breath caught painfully in my chest, my heart thundering louder with every shameful truth he uttered.
Damn him. Why does his voice sound so good when he's angry? Why does his touch brand itself into my skin like fire, marking me permanently?
“You’re sick,” I whispered weakly, despising how my voice lacked conviction.
“And you’re dripping, aren’t you?” he whispered back knowingly, sliding his hand torturously down my neck, teasing me with promises my body secretly craved.
I slapped his hand away defiantly, trying desperately to reclaim control.
His eyes darkened dangerously. “Still disobedient.”
He leaned closer, lips brushing against the sensitive shell of my ear, his breath hot, intoxicating. “I could take you right here, on this floor, and you’d beg me for more.”
My heart skipped a traitorous beat, my body igniting with shameful anticipation. “I’d never—”
He chuckled low and dark. “You already are. Look at you… on your knees, flushed, panting, so deliciously desperate.”
I shook my head weakly, the lies tasting bitter on my tongue. “I hate you.”
“Liar.” His lips teased mine softly, then bit down roughly, igniting every nerve-ending. “Say it again.”
“I. Hate. You.”
“Then stop moaning every time I touch you.”
I shoved him with a sudden surge of strength, fury fueling me. “I’m not yours. I never will be.”
“You already are,” he said darkly, his voice dripping with dangerous possession. “Your wolf knows it. Your body knows it. Only your pride’s in the way.”
I rose shakily, legs trembling beneath me. My heart felt fractured, torn between fury and desire, pride and submission. “Stay away from me.”
“Make me.”
My glare burned into his amused, confident eyes. “You disgust me.”
He stepped closer once more, his presence overwhelming, forcing me against the wall again. “Say that while I’m inside you next time.”
My anger surged, white-hot, and I slapped him hard across the cheek, the sharp sound echoing in the hall.
His head turned slightly, but instead of anger, he smiled wickedly.
“I like it rough too.”
I stormed off, shaking uncontrollably from head to toe—not from fear, but from the damnable heat he'd ignited within me. I hated him deeply, fiercely.
But what frightened me most—more than his strength, more than his cruelty—was how desperately my body wanted everything he promised, no matter how twisted.
I hated him.