NOVGO.NET Chapter 93: What are you doing to me?
He gripped the wheel so hard the leather groaned under his knuckles, his breathing heavy and ragged as the speedometer climbed.
"You keep pulling the tail of a wounded, starving tiger, Lang... and you have no damn idea how close you are to getting devoured."
"You’re exaggerating, Magnus," I tried to protest, though my voice traitorously trembled, giving away my rising uncertainty. "It’s almost certainly not how you think it is. Rumor had it that the professor was just a run-of-the-mill pervert who preyed on—"
"He wasn’t. Those rumors were spread deliberately," Magnus cut in, his words like sharp strokes of cold steel.
"In all his years of teaching at that university, he never laid a single finger on a female student. Not once. Not a single one. For his entire miserable life, he lived quietly in his own pathetic hole, jacking off to cheap porn and hiring ordinary human escorts maybe two or three times a year to blow off steam.
But the moment you showed up on campus—literally within your first month—he suddenly ran up massive debts and started hiring them far more frequently. Every single week. Sometimes two at a time. And every girl he booked was built from the exact same blueprint: short, frail, with long dark hair falling past her shoulder blades and green eyes. Does that remind you of anyone? Rings no bells at all?"
I couldn’t—physically couldn’t—bring myself to process what I was hearing. It was too detailed, too terrifyingly specific. My brain recoiled from piecing together the horrifying reality.
"N-no..." I choked out, a cold shiver creeping up my spine and raising the tiny hairs on my skin. "That... that can’t be true..."
Magnus didn’t answer right away. He reached over, seizing my limp hand where it rested on my knee, and laced his fingers firmly with mine in a crushing, almost painful grip.
Unable to meet his gaze, I stared down at his hand—at the thick, pale scars carved deep across his knuckles. They were large, powerful, and lethal, whispering their own brutal, bloody stories of his past when he chose to remain silent. Every single scar represented a broken bone, spilled blood, and someone’s utter defeat at the hands of a dominant male.
"You’re constantly lost in your own thoughts, living inside your own safe little world," he continued, his tone softening slightly, though a blade of steel still cut through every word. "And you pay zero attention to what’s actually happening right in front of you. To the reality surrounding you. You can’t run away from who you are."
"So what is actually happening around me?" I asked softly, still unable to look up as I stared at our joined hands.
"What’s happening, Jane, is that at least two alpha males at your university were—and still are—obsessively interested in you. Dangerously interested."
"Who?" The word slipped out before I could stop myself, and I regretted asking the moment it left my lips.
"Oh, so you’re curious all of a sudden?" A venomous, lethal edge crept into his tone, sending a shiver straight down my spine. "Maybe you’ve got your eye on one of them, hm, Lang? Picked out a favorite? Just give me a name. Speak one single name out loud, and I’ll personally ensure you get a front-row seat to that fucking bastard’s funeral. I promise you."
The sudden flare of icy rage in his voice, backed by the sheer weight of his dominant wolfish aura, made me tremble uncontrollably. The suffocating pressure flooded the tight confines of the car, squeezing the oxygen right out of my lungs until my chest ached.
He wasn’t joking. The raw, terrifying realization that he would execute or tear apart anyone he deemed a threat without a second thought hit me like a physical blow.
"I don’t like anyone, Magnus. I’ve told you this before..." I stammered, my pulse racing. "I wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone this whole time, until..."
"Until what?" He snapped his head toward me, the full gravity of his dark gaze pinning me to my seat. "Finish that sentence."
"Until you offered one to me," I breathed out, my cheeks flushing with betraying heat.
The tires shrieked as Magnus slammed on the brakes right in the middle of the empty road. The sudden stop threw me forward, the seatbelt biting harshly into my chest and knocking the air from my lungs. But what terrified me far more was how fast he moved—unbuckling his belt in a flash and surging across the center console to tower over me.
His massive frame blotted out the world, blocking the windows and trapping me entirely in his shadow. There was nowhere to run. No path of escape.
"Repeat that," he growled, the low, raspy rumble of his voice vibrating against my collarbone. His face was inches from mine, his scalding breath washing over my skin. "Does that mean you’re interested in us? You want this? You want to be mine?"
"Yes," I gasped, unable to lie—or look away from his blown-out, almost pitch-black pupils. "Yes, I do."
He didn’t say another word.
Magnus surged forward and claimed my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, devouring me as if he meant to swallow me whole and fuse my soul into his. His scarred hand tangled deep into the hair at the nape of my neck, tilting my head back and locking me firmly in place.
When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving just as wildly as mine.
"You have no idea... no damn clue what you do to me, Lang," he growled, pressing his forehead against mine as his eyes closed tightly. "Your constant defiance, your stubbornness—it drives me so far past the edge that I want to strangle you with my bare hands. But the second I look into your eyes, I physically can’t bring myself to hurt you. What the hell are you doing to me, you little witch?"
"I’m not doing anything on purpose, Magnus," I whispered, my heart hammering furiously against my ribs—so hard and fast I feared they would fracture under the impact. "I swear. I’m not doing anything."