Filth

Filth
Dante Scout POV

“Leave my hand, Dante.” She stared hard, like the look alone might kill me. “I don’t want to be so close to the man who has this much filth inside him.”

“My name sounds delicious on your tongue, Vin. Now you’ve even learned to say it without adding Alpha.” I drew her hand closer and pressed it against my crotch, hard beneath the fabric.

The color drained from her face. Her eyes dropped to where her hand rested, then snapped back up. I was already fully hard.

Not my fault. I warned her about cursing. That defiant spark in her eyes rubbed against every nerve I wanted rubbed, even when she refused to do it herself.

“Dante, have some shame.” She struggled to pull free, but I tightened my grip and forced her hand to press harder.

If I had been joking about cumming before, it stopped being a joke now. Every second edged it closer. “Baby, the thing you’re calling disgusting took a long tour of your mouth and throat, filled you all the way down.”

She gasped, sharp and offended. “Shut it. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“It’s semantics.”

“Leave my hand or else…” The warning came thin, rushed.

I smiled. Her threats never scared me. Especially not when she looked like this.

“Else what, bunny?” I purred, watching her. “I really want to hear what pretty consequences you have in mind.”

The elevator dinged open. Her hand clenched against me, sudden and tight.

Of course she did, because she wanted to pleasure me. Pun intended.

In truth, she did it because she was terrified of being caught, standing there with her hand pressed to my crotch.

“Why are you like this?” She started shivering, her head turning as she scanned the space, checking if anyone was there.

She was flushed and anxious, looking like a lost kitten. The one thing she didn’t know was that this was my private floor. No one came up here without my permission or prior notice, and for now, there were no appointments.

‘Should I tell her that?’

‘You should,’ my wolf commented.

‘Nope. We’re going to enjoy the chaos.’ There was no chance in hell I was missing this.

‘There is no we in this, you sick fuck. Our mate is stressed. I’m going to kill you.’

‘You know the rule,’ I shot back. ‘Killing me isn’t viable.’

He snarled in my head, low and violent, the tension rolling through my spine as she stood there trembling in front of me, unaware that the danger she sensed wasn’t the floor, or the silence, or the empty hallway.

It was me choosing not to tell her the truth.

You’re always like this, my conscience added, which I shoved aside.

“Please leave my hand,” she breathed, heavy and uneven. The sound dragged me out of my thoughts, out of the argument with my wolf. My eyes dropped to her face.

I froze.

Tears slid down her cheeks, streaking the flush already there, her lashes clumped and trembling. She looked wrecked. Not defiant. Not sharp. Just overwhelmed.

I released her immediately. Seeing her cry snapped something taut inside me.

No matter how much I liked pushing her, no matter how much her reactions fed the darker part of me, there were lines I wasn’t ready to cross. Not today.

She pulled her hand back to herself, wiping her face quickly, like she hated that I’d seen it. Her shoulders stayed stiff, guarded.

I stepped back, giving her space this time. Real space.

“Hey,” I said, quieter. “Look at me.”

She didn’t. Her gaze stayed fixed somewhere past my shoulder, breathing still uneven.

Today wasn’t about breaking her.

Today was supposed to be… lighter. If that word even applied to us. Or at least me trying to make it so.

“Baby, I was joking. No one’s going to come. It’s my private floor.” I kept my voice steady, meant to ground her, meant to pull her back.

It didn’t work.

She kept shivering, breath hitching, eyes darting everywhere like danger might step out of the walls. Her tears wouldn’t stop, silent and relentless, and the sight of it sat heavy in my chest.

I wanted to move closer. Instinct screamed to close the distance, to anchor her, to make her look at me. I didn’t.

The panic was mine to own. I’d caused it. Stepping into her space now would only tighten the spiral. So I stayed where I was, rooted to the spot, hands at my sides, forcing myself still.

“Vin,” I mumbled. “No one’s here. Just breathe.”

She hugged herself, shoulders trembling, like she was trying to hold herself together before she shattered.

My wolf stirred, uneasy, restless. ‘You pushed too far.’

I swallowed, watching her break apart in front of me, knowing this wasn’t a game anymore. “Vinorca, I said calm down.”

My voice came out louder than I intended, sharp enough to cut through the haze around her. Not anger. Command. Something solid she could grab onto.

She flinched, then finally looked at me.

“You are so bad.” The words came out broken, her breathing uneven, chest rising too fast, tears clinging to her lashes.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. “But you’re safe. So calm down.”

She shook her head, arms wrapped around herself, like she didn’t trust the ground beneath her feet. I took one careful step closer, slow enough not to startle her, stopping well short of her space.

“Look at me,” I whispered. “Just me.”

Her gaze wavered, then settled on my face. The panic didn’t vanish, but it softened, loosened its grip. She drew in a shaky breath. Then another.

“That’s it,” I soothed. “Breathe.”

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. She wiped at her cheeks, embarrassed, angry, still fragile.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

I almost smiled. Almost.

If she is saying she hates me, that means she is getting back to normal. I was glad for that, per se. I exhaled a long breath.

“Nothing new.”