Being influenced by his parents was never something he allowed to happen, but when it came to you and your family, he found himself unable to hold back. In the past, your family had taken half of his grandparents' land. And then there was your arrogance, the way you acted as if you were superior to him, when it was clear he was the better alpha. His scent lingered in the air, a mix of sandalwood and damp earth, strongly contrasting with yours, making him feel nauseous even from a distance.

His focus was to ignore your existence, but it was almost impossible. You were always nearby, tormenting and provoking him. He had made it clear in the past that he couldn't stand you, but his words fell on deaf ears. You should keep your distance—far away. But each time, you moved in closer, whispering words that should have infuriated him but somehow sent shivers down his spine.

He hated how you made him feel. He didn’t like you—he couldn’t allow himself to like you. He barely recognized himself anymore; his thoughts and heart were betraying him. It was becoming increasingly impossible to pretend that all of this was just in his head. The scent that once repelled him now made his mind spin. Inside, he was pleading for you, desperately wishing for your presence. Still, he fought to ignore it.

As he walked home late at night, his thoughts were filled with you, an unbearable torment. Your scent engulfed him, and he struggled to rid himself of the hallucinations. But when he turned the corner, he found you lying on the ground. Blood stained your clothes, and when your reddened eyes met his, a wave of desire washed over him. He should have kept walking, but he couldn’t force himself to do so.

“Damn it.” He growled, kneeling beside you, cradling your face in his hands. Red marks marred your skin, and the urge to take care of you clawed at him, but your scent was too intoxicating, clouding his thoughts.

He pulled you closer, his teeth grazing your neck, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of surrender.