Chapter 175: Chapter 175
Nicholas’s POV
The silence in the grand dining room was completely deafening. It was thick, heavy, and absolutely suffocating.
I sat rigidly at the head of the massive, polished mahogany table. Irina sat completely frozen on my right.
She didn’t look at me. Not even once. She kept her empty, dull eyes firmly glued to her pristine white porcelain plate.
The estate’s absolute best chefs had prepared a ridiculous feast. Steaming roasted chicken, rich buttery mashed potatoes, fresh asparagus, warm rolls. It smelled incredible. But neither of us was eating.
"Eat," I finally ordered. My voice broke the silence like a harsh whip. It was significantly rougher than I intended.
Irina violently flinched. A tiny, panicked jerk of her delicate shoulders. But she didn’t speak. She didn’t argue. She just slowly picked up her heavy silver fork. Her pale, slender fingers wrapped weakly around the metal. She blindly pushed a piece of chicken around her plate, moving like a mindless, broken zombie.
My chest tightened painfully. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on my lungs.
I wanted her to yell at me. I wanted her to completely lose her mind, to scream, to throw the expensive crystal glass right at my head, to fight me like she used to. I hated this empty, hollow shell. I hated what I had reduced her to.
"Irina," I tried again. My tone was slightly softer this time. Pleading, almost.
She completely ignored me. She didn’t blink. She just kept staring blindly at her cold food.
My inner wolf paced frantically inside my head. He absolutely hated the distance. I was sitting only three feet away from her, but she felt like she was a million miles away in an entirely different universe. I gripped my own silver steak knife so hard the thick metal physically bent under my calloused fingers.
She finally reached for a warm bread roll. Her small, trembling hand picked up the serrated silver butter knife.
She was shaking way too much. Her grip was completely weak and completely unsteady.
The sharp knife violently slipped.
"Ah," a tiny, breathy gasp suddenly escaped her pale lips.
She dropped the knife with a loud clatter. It hit the fine china plate, echoing sharply in the painfully quiet room.
I immediately sat perfectly straight. My heart skipped a beat. "What happened?"
She quickly pulled her hand back, tightly clutching her left index finger. She curled into herself, trying to hide it from me. But I had already seen it. A bright, crimson bead of fresh blood welled up on her pale skin.
It was just a tiny cut. A completely insignificant little scratch.
But then the smell hit the air.
It hit my heightened werewolf senses like an absolute atomic bomb.
Sweet. Metallic. Incredibly, devastatingly intoxicating. It smelled like pure vanilla violently mixed with dark, rich iron.
*Boom.*
The reaction was absolutely instantaneous. It was violently, terrifyingly physical. A sudden, scorching wave of pure heat exploded deep in my lower abdomen. It instantly rushed through my veins like boiling liquid fire. My breathing abruptly hitched. My muscles locked completely tight.
My heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic, deafening rhythm. *Thump. Thump. Thump.*
It wasn’t just my normal hunger. It wasn’t just basic desire. It was pure, primal lust. It felt exactly like the violent, unstoppable beginning of a wolf’s rut. The deadly mating frenzy.
My eyes instantly flared a blinding, lethal gold. My fangs forcefully elongated, slicing painfully into my own lower lip. I gripped the edges of the table, my knuckles turning completely white.
I wanted to leap across the table. I wanted to violently grab her delicate wrist, pin her against the hard mahogany wood, and lick that tiny drop of blood right off her skin. I wanted to bite down. I wanted to completely consume her.
The sheer intensity of the dark, twisted urge absolutely terrified me.
If I stayed here for one single second longer, I was going to absolutely tear her apart. I was going to completely lose my mind and traumatize her right here on the dining room floor.
I shoved my heavy oak chair back so violently it tipped backward and crashed loudly onto the hardwood floor.
Irina flinched hard, shrinking back into her seat in pure, blinding terror. She pulled her bleeding hand tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with fear.
I didn’t say a single word. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth right now, a feral, monstrous roar would come out. I turned on my heel and practically sprinted out of the dining room, leaving her completely alone.
I ran up the massive staircase. I violently slammed the heavy double doors of my own bedroom shut and locked them.
I collapsed heavily against the dark wood, gasping for air like a drowning man pulling himself onto the shore.
The heat wasn’t fading at all. It was getting significantly worse. It was completely burning me alive from the inside out. I violently ripped my expensive black dress shirt off, sending the tiny pearl buttons flying across the dark room. I was sweating profusely. My skin felt like it was literally on fire.
*Mate’s blood.*
My inner wolf was completely unhinged. He was thrashing, snarling, violently tearing at the iron walls of my mind. He was demanding I go back down there.
I staggered blindly into the massive master bathroom and turned the heavy brass shower knob on full blast. I didn’t even bother taking my dark dress pants off. I stood directly under the freezing cold water.
It didn’t help at all.
The icy water hit my burning skin and practically turned into steam. I gripped the slick marble shower walls, my massive shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I threw my head back, letting the freezing water hit my face, desperately trying to drown the feral beast inside me.
But I could still smell it.
The sweet, heavy, metallic scent of her blood was permanently burned into my nasal passages. It was driving me completely insane.
I wanted her blood. I needed it.
It was the most bizarre, terrifying craving I had ever experienced in my entire life. Werewolves didn’t drink blood. We were predators, not blood-sucking leeches. But right now, my soul was violently demanding it. I wanted to sink my teeth deep into her delicate, pulsing neck. I wanted to mark her, to taste her hot blood on my tongue, to brutally and permanently brand her completely as mine.
I stumbled out of the shower, completely ignoring the thick white towels. I paced across the dark bedroom, my bare, soaking wet feet leaving heavy tracks on the expensive Persian rug.
My breathing was incredibly ragged. Every single breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
Hours passed. The agonizing fever only climbed higher and higher. My veins throbbed painfully against my skin. My fangs ached relentlessly, completely exposed and desperately ready to pierce soft skin.
Every single cell in my massive body was screaming for Irina. Screaming to claim my mate. Screaming to taste her.
I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t think straight. The logic part of my brain was completely fried, burned away by the devastating, overwhelming heat of the rut. I was no longer Nicholas, the calculating Alpha. I was just a beast totally consumed by lust and hunger.
I looked at the heavy grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The glowing hands pointed to 3:00 AM.
The entire estate was completely dead and silent.
I couldn’t fight it anymore. My self-control completely snapped like a dry, brittle twig under a heavy combat boot. I was going to die if I didn’t have her.
I blindly threw on a pair of dark, dry sweatpants.
My chest heaved violently. My eyes were completely glowing gold in the pitch-black room, illuminating the dark shadows. The raging, wild fire in my blood completely took over my entire mind. There was no rational thought left. There was only the craving.
I pulled the heavy bedroom door open.
In the middle of the night, I walked towards Irina’s room.
