'How can she be so soft?'
The thought drifted through Javrian's mind like morning mist as his lips moved against the delicate curve of her breast.
Every touch, every taste, every small sound she made seemed to pull him deeper into something he'd never experienced before.
Her skin was impossibly smooth beneath his mouth—softer than the finest silk he had once torn from enemy nobles, warmer than the fires his body had ever felt.
When his tongue grazed that small, hardened peak, she trembled against him, and the sensation went straight to his core.
'Why am I… sucking?'
The question should have alarmed him. It should have made him pull back, regain control, remember who he was supposed to be.
But instead, he found himself lost in the sweetness of her—the way she fit perfectly in his palm, the way her breath hitched when he applied just the right amount of pressure.
He felt himself being carried away by her softness, consumed by a need to devour every inch of her yet terrified of causing even the slightest harm.
She was porcelain in his battle-scarred hands, and he was a beast trying to learn gentleness.
His left hand, as if guided by instincts older than thought, began to move. Slowly, carefully, he bunched the wet fabric of her dress, drawing it higher along her thigh.
The logical part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to pull back before he crossed a line he couldn't uncross.
But then she made that sound.
"Mmmhhhh…"
The soft moan that escaped her lips shattered every wall he'd tried to build. It was the same sound from last night—when she had pulled him into her, when she had chosen him despite the pain.
The memory of how she had responded to his touch, how she had trembled beneath him, came flooding back.
'She likes it...!?'
His restraint crumbled.
His hand moved with more purpose now, finding the spot between her thighs where the fabric clung to her most intimately.
When his palm pressed against her there, she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, her body arching into his touch.
'I will make sure to love you, my Luna.'
He began to rub, slow and steady, feeling the heat of her through the thin barrier of cloth.
Her breathing quickened, small sounds escaping her throat that made his own blood burn.
When he felt her begin to give way, to open for him, he pressed deeper, his middle finger pushing through the fabric until he could feel her directly.
She was warm. Soft. Perfect.
"Sl-slow—!"
He thought she was asking him to go slower, so he adjusted his rhythm, making each movement more deliberate, more focused on her pleasure than his own desperate need.
But then something changed.
The warmth against his forehead—a single drop of moisture that wasn't river water.
His silver eyes snapped up to find tears streaming down her face, her expression twisted with something that looked like… pain?
"Luna," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the wetness on her cheek. "What's wrong?"
The confusion in his voice was genuine. One moment she had been responding to his touch, melting against him, and now she looked like he'd struck her.
Her crimson eyes held a devastation he didn't understand, a brokenness that seemed to come from nowhere.
SLAP
The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed across the water like thunder, sharp enough to scatter the birds from nearby trees.
His head snapped to the side, silver eyes wide with shock as the sting spread across his scarred face.
"Stop it, Javrian! You are no better than Victor!"
The words hit him harder than any physical blow ever could.
'No better than Victor.'
The man who had beaten her. Who had used her. Who had fed her aphrodisiacs and planned to let her be violated by strangers. The man whose blood still stained Javrian's claws.
A man who should have been the worst in her life was... no better than Javrian.
"N-no! At least Victor pretended to feel guilty! At least he had the decency to hide what he was doing! But you—you parade me around in front of her like some kind of trophy!"
Her voice cracked, raw with pain and fury, but Javrian could barely process the words.
His mind was stuck on that first accusation, playing it over and over like a death knell.
'No better than Victor.'
"YOU ARE WORSE THAN HIM!"
But the second one killed something within him.
Something inside his chest—something he'd thought was his heart finally learning to beat for another person—shattered like glass.
The rage that followed wasn't directed at her.
It couldn't be.
Even through his devastation, even as her words tore him apart, he couldn't summon anger toward Luna.
The rage was for himself.
'Did I just hurt her?'
His hands began to tremble as the realization crashed over him in waves.
The water around them started to steam, vapor rising as his body temperature spiked with the intensity of his emotions.
'Am I no different than him?'
He looked down at his hands—the same hands that had just been touching her so intimately, that had been pressing against her, taking what he wanted without truly asking.
The same hands that had killed Victor for doing exactly what he'd just done.
The memory of their first meeting flashed through his mind.
Her eyes—those beautiful crimson eyes—had been empty then. Hollow. Completely void of hope or feeling, like someone who had given up on ever experiencing joy again.
'She was numb then. Uncaring. Dead inside.'
But now? Now those same eyes were bright with tears, alive with pain and betrayal and devastating clarity.
'Now she's crying because of me.'
The thought was a knife twisting in his chest. He had brought emotion back to those eyes—not joy, not love, not hope.
Just raw pain.
He had made her feel again, and what she felt was anguish.
His jaw clenched so hard he heard his teeth grind together, a sound that made Luna take an instinctive step back in the water.
The fear that flashed across her face when she saw his expression was the final nail in his coffin.
'She's afraid of me.'
'I am a monster.'
The water around him continued to steam as his internal temperature rose, his wolf nature responding to the emotional turmoil with physical manifestations he couldn't control.
His vision blurred at the edges, not from rage at her, but from a self-loathing so complete it threatened to consume him entirely.
All his life, he had fought to be better than the Empire that had destroyed his people. Better than the men who took what they wanted through force and violence. Better than someone like Victor.
But in this moment, seeing Luna's tears, seeing her fear, he realized the horrible truth.
He wasn't better. He was exactly what she said he was.
Without another word, without explanation or defense, Javrian turned, trying to say, "I…"
But he couldn't, before he took a leap, launching himself into the skies, away from there and toward the woods as he didn't know what he might do to himself for having hurt her this much.
"Argh—!" Not even noticing how the force had thrown Luna back, she fell down and, breathing heavily, stood from the water.
Looking around with her eyes widened, her hand clenched to her chest as she felt fear, her heart thumping the moment she saw his anger directed towards her—or at least she thought it was.
"I-I..." But even she couldn't seem to say the word. Her eyes were teary, tears streaming down her face, and her hand clenched tightly.
She looked towards the water while standing alone, shocked, in fear, in guilt, and every emotion she thought had been numbed returned one after another, crashing over her.