Heated Questions

Heated Questions
Seraphina met his gaze, fire burning in her veins.
“Why do you really want me here, Adolphus?” she asked, her voice steady, but her heart thundered beneath the surface.
He didn’t answer right away. His smirk faltered, a flicker of something raw passing through his eyes.
“Another question,” he said smoothly, leaning back against the wall.
“No,” she snapped. “Answer me.”
His jaw tightened. For a moment, she thought he’d brush her off again, but then—
“Because you’re mine.”
Seraphina let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid answer.”
Adolphus’s lips parted—then he closed them again, exhaling softly through his nose. His head tilted back for a beat before his voice broke the silence.
“Because without you, I’m nothing,” he said, his tone rough, like the words were clawing their way out. “I’ll be incomplete.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched.
“I need you to complete me,” he continued. “To be my other half.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to let him see how his words rattled her.
“Because I love you,” Adolphus said, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the confession. “Because your scent keeps me alive. Because the thought of coming back to you every day is the only thing that helps me survive.”
Seraphina’s throat tightened.
“Because I want to be good for you,” he whispered, stepping closer.
His hand rose but stopped short of her face, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her. “Because I want you to want me back.”
Her vision blurred at the edges.
“Because I want you to understand me,” Adolphus said softly, finally cupping her face in his large, calloused hands.
Seraphina stiffened at the contact, but her body betrayed her—her chin tilted into his touch, her lips trembling.
He leaned in, his forehead almost brushing hers, his voice a broken rasp.
“I love you, Seraphina,” he said, his thumb stroking a tear from her cheek before it could fall. “And I’m sorry.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until he wiped another tear away.
Adolphus’s touch was tender, but his grip on her heart was suffocating.
She hated him.
She hated him so much.
So why did it hurt this badly?
Why did it hurt to see him hurt?
Why did it hurt even more to know he was the one who hurt her?
Why did she wish — just for a fleeting second — that she could forget?
Why was she standing here, heart in her throat, considering forgiveness when she knew Adolphus wasn’t the hero in her story?
He was the villain. The predator. The bad guy.
And yet… how could she still want him?
The way his hands cradled her face so carefully, like she was something fragile.
The way his voice broke when he said he loved her. The way his gaze, usually so fierce and unyielding, now shimmered with something raw and desperate.
Her body ached with contradictions — rage and longing, hatred and yearning.
Seraphina blinked rapidly, collecting herself, willing the tears away. She was not weak. Not for him.
She swallowed hard, prying his hands from her face, her fingers trembling against his rough skin.
Then, with a sharp breath, she nodded.
“Okay,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “Ask your question.”
It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.
But it was something.
Adolphus cleared his throat, a rough, uncertain sound that seemed too human for someone like him.
His thumb lingered at his side, twitching — a small betrayal of the turmoil beneath his cold exterior.
Then, his voice, low and steady, broke the silence.
“What do you think of me?”
The question landed between them like a stone in a still pond — quiet, but heavy enough to ripple through the air.
Seraphina’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Of all the things he could’ve asked… why that?
Her throat tightened.
What did she think of him? The man who had dragged her into this world, stripped her of everything familiar, and now stood before her with sorrow darkening his golden gaze.
A monster. A captor. A liar.
But also… a man who had just told her he loved her. Who, despite the cruel power he wielded, now looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because the truth was dangerous. And so were the lies.
Adolphus’s jaw clenched, the veins in his neck taut like ropes about to snap.
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things—rage, longing, regret—all of it swirling in the dim glow of his room.
His eyes never left hers, burning so fiercely it felt like they could strip her bare, not just of the flimsy clothing the werewolf women had draped her in, but of every defense she’d ever built around her heart.
He wet his lips—like he was about to devour her.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the storm brewing inside her, “ask another question.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His thumb grazed the curve of her jawline, featherlight, like he was testing the distance between them—like he was battling the war between holding back and completely unraveling.
Adolphus sucked in a slow, ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was rough, a low growl that sent shivers skittering down her spine.
“Did you enjoy our kiss?”
The words cracked the air between them.
Seraphina’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her mind screamed at her to lie, to spit venom at him, to shove him away and build the wall between them even higher—but her traitorous body betrayed her.
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded.
Just once.
Slow.
Deliberate.
His nostrils flared. His fingers twitched against her skin, sliding from her jaw to the side of her neck, where her pulse thumped wildly beneath his touch.
“Do you want me to kiss you again?” Adolphus asked, his voice husky, dark—like a forbidden promise.
Seraphina’s mouth went dry.
She shouldn’t. She couldn’t.