It was stunning—and terrifying—to see Askold holding his ground. They were battling almost as equals in sheer force, though Askold lacked just a fraction of the wild, unbridled bloodlust rolling off Magnus.
It felt as though two raw elements of nature had collided head-on in a fight to the death. Their dominant auras pressed heavily against the walls, radiating pure menace. Every muscle in their bodies was coiled to strike, their teeth bared in vicious snarls.
Just a few more electrifying seconds, and they would set their wolves free.
"What are you doing?!" I snapped out of my shock first, rushing over and laying a trembling hand against Magnus’s rock-hard shoulder to pull him back. "Magnus, stop! What is wrong with you?!"
Magnus turned his heavy, ice-cold gaze toward me with explicit menace. There was nothing human left in his eyes—only pure blackness, dark rage, and absolute possessiveness.
"Why the hell were you sitting on his shoulders with your legs wrapped around him while he had his hands all over you?" he growled, low and feral, the sound of his wolf vibrating from deep in his chest. "Explain that to me."
"I understand an Alpha male’s territorial instincts over his mate—it’s natural," Askold replied, his voice disturbingly calm as he forcefully pried Magnus’s hand away from his throat. "But Jane and I were simply washing tall windows. Nothing more happened, and nothing ever will. I have no romantic interest in your breeder. She’s a good person, and she doesn’t deserve this kind of blatant paranoia from you."
Askold’s words rang out with such genuine, unshakeable sincerity that a sharp pang of hurt pierced my chest.
...Because Magnus constantly, day in and day out, treated me as if I were some easy girl ready to jump into anyone else’s bed the second someone so much as crooked a finger or offered a half-smile.
Rolan finally noticed the commotion and the thick, suffocating tension in the air, trotting over while wiping his dirty hands on his faded t-shirt.
"Jane, thank you so, so much for taking the time to come out and help us today," he offered warmly, his gratitude entirely sincere. "Honestly, we never would have finished these windows without you—I was an idiot and completely forgot to bring a ladder."
He chuckled at his own mistake, scratching the back of his head awkwardly and further messing up his already messy dark hair.
"I was really happy to help, truly," I squeezed out, acutely aware of the dangerous Alpha tension still hanging heavy in the room. "But I really have to get going now. I’m sorry."
Without a word, Magnus pivoted toward me, his large, scalding hand clamping around my waist as he marched me toward the exit with swift, massive strides.
I struggled to keep up, practically jogging beside him. The chemical burn on my leg had begun to throb with a sharp, dull ache from the exertion.
We climbed into his car in silence. Slamming the door shut, Magnus started the engine without even bothering with his seatbelt and peeled away from the lot with a roar of acceleration.
For several minutes, an agonizing, crushing silence filled the cabin. I pressed myself back into the leather seat, feeling the waves of sheer rage rolling off him—a temper he was barely keeping beneath the surface.
"You really insult me with your constant lack of trust," I said quietly, my voice firm despite the heavy atmosphere. "Every single time. Over and over again. I am not easy."
"Right now, you had better just shut up and sit quietly," he gritted through clenched teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel with terrifying force. "Before I go back there and tear him apart with my bare hands. It took every ounce of control I had left not to leave him as a stain on the floor."
"You don’t trust me at all, Magnus," I replied, feeling a wave of bitter, stinging hurt rise inside me. "Why do you always assume that I—"
"I do trust you, Jane!" he snapped, cutting me off as a muscle ticked violently in his jaw. "I trust you—your intentions, your honesty, your heart. What I don’t trust is every bastard around who stares at you like a starving dog looking at a piece of fresh meat! You physically don’t see the way men look at you, how they undress you with their eyes. And it’s not just wolves, Jane. It’s not just them."
He shifted his grip on the wheel, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"You are a dominant, powerful Alpha Breeder. And every single male around who isn’t bound by an unbreakable fated bond will uncontrollably drool over you, want you, dream of claiming you. Every single one of them. It’s raw instinct. You draw them in even without an awakened scent—it’s something beyond words. Just a terrifyingly strong gravitational pull. I’ve been on heavy suppressants for over a year, and even I feel it constantly... while I don’t feel a damn thing from anyone else."
His words, and the raw, harsh edge with which he spat them out, sent a wave of liquid heat rushing straight to my face. My cheeks burned crimson. Truthfully, I had never once noticed any man staring at me with open lust or stripping me with his eyes. It felt like a massive exaggeration—he was just blowing things wildly out of proportion because of his unhinged territorial jealousy.
"You’re exaggerating. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill," I countered, shaking my head. "I would have noticed if someone was looking at me like that. I would have felt it."
"You, Jane, spent six months completely oblivious to your university professor drooling over you," his voice turned razor-sharp, laced with a dark, terrifying rage that vibrated through the steering wheel. "You never noticed the sheer number of men hungrily staring you down in the hallways, in the cafeteria, during lectures. You didn’t even notice that fucking psycho Dean Nyland stalking your every single move until it was almost too late! So sit there and keep your mouth shut before I lose what little control I have left."
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