Isabela

**Today**


Fool! Idiot! Dumb as hell! That’s how I feel, being wrapped in the arms of my predator, lost in the strong fragments of his scent, loving the feeling of being under his touch, with my head resting on his chest, listening to his heart gently whispering in my ear. Because I’m seeking comfort in the most messed-up guy who’s ever been in my life, the one who left me full of scars after abandoning me. Because his scent is like a damn safe harbor, an anchor that keeps me grounded. But it’s an illusion. That incredible smell, that feeling of safety—all of it belongs to things from the past that no longer make sense. This Nate can’t bring me security because now, he is the danger itself.
And there were no armors, no shields raised, nothing between us in that bed. I opened up, trusted, just like before. I opened the door to my body and allowed him to enter, let him touch me, sink his fingers between my legs, and set me on fire. I got lost in his delicious mouth and loved every second of it. I softened, turned into jelly under his hard, sculpted body. Even though it was clear that, under those sheets, the one devouring me was a predator. Not the boy I once loved. It was this new Nate, this wolf in wolf’s clothing.
He’s like a drug, a substance that my body got addicted to, and I fought to get rid of. And now, a small taste of it has reignited everything. Because I find everything about this jerk incredible. His dick, for example, is perfect—trimmed hair, thick as hell, huge, and veiny to the point of shocking me. And I’ve seen it before, on the Night of the Big Bad Wolf, but it’s now that I’m noticing every detail.
Nate is perfect naked; he looks even bigger like this, muscles in all the right places. And he smells so good. I can’t stop thinking about it, how everything about him smells amazing! Damn it, I hate this man because his looks are so perfect it should be an offense, a damn sin. I had never seen him completely naked before. But today, I inspected every inch of this bastard’s skin.
He dominated me, took me as if I were nothing. As if every “nothing” piece of me belonged entirely to him! And I liked it, like the bitch Nate loves to call me. I loved when he rubbed himself against my ass as I bent over because it made my entire skin tingle and burn. I adored his fingers trying to pull things out of me, worshipped the way he pushed my wetness against my mouth. Everything was going well, and even the control over my body that he shoved in my face by not letting me come was somehow good.
I refused to show I was enjoying it. I wanted to pretend I would love for him to leave, but I’m a damn liar. I wanted to climax with him, explode into a thousand pieces from his touch, and I loved it when he came in my mouth. Even the taste of his cum is divine!
And why did I feel all of this? Because I’ve never had it before. No other man has touched me like that. Never! As much as Nate isn’t worth a cent, I still trust him. I’m a fool for that, but I trust the touch of the man who made it clear he wants to destroy me. I only freaked out when he touched me in his room because I didn’t recognize him, had no idea it was him.
Why did all these feelings wake up like they never died? Like some kind of zombie rising from the grave? Nate is like a virus that’s taken over my entire body. And when I try to expel him, he mutates just to stay in every part of me.
Why do I still like him so much? He’s a minefield, dangerous ground I walk like a fearless girl, knowing it’s ready to explode at any moment. Just step in the wrong place, and boom… he’ll shatter me completely!
This man is a rollercoaster of emotions, he always was. And there are specific things that can make him snap in a very bad way, and afterward, an avalanche of suffering buries him, because he feels guilty for being borderline. Just like Nate has explored the dark corners of my mind and knows a lot about me, he’s also told me a lot about his problems. I know being like this isn’t his choice, but mocking the things going on in my head is a decision, something he has control over. And just like I know what can trigger his outbursts, Nate knows every fragment that can activate a detonator in my mind and shatter me.
I’m a mess, a pool of contradictions. I’m terrified of losing control because that’s what happens when a stranger touches me without me expecting or allowing it. The lack of control stares me in the face, reminding me how everything went off the rails when I lost my father, and everything, absolutely everything in my life fell apart. So I try to dominate things, take charge, put myself above situations so I won’t freak out when I’m reminded of how much I can suffer when I can’t do that. But here I am, this Isabela who loved losing control with Nate, who loved that he took charge, that he pulled the reins on me like I was a mare being guided by his tugs. How does that even make sense? How much am I becoming contaminated by this wolf?
We are two new versions of ourselves, strange and equally toxic.
And to make everything worse, it’s like all the pieces of my dream are shattering right before my eyes. Because this duality that defines our feelings won’t end. He can’t leave, and I can’t walk away. So I’ll keep desiring him while fighting not to give in like a little slut when he wants me, and hating him as the disgusting jerk that he is. And Nate will give me the same things: desire, hate, and destruction. And that destruction will seep into every offbeat note of the dramatic melody that is my soul, ruining the experience of studying what I’ve always dreamed of. In reality, he’s already tainted everything. Even if I managed to leave here without breaking down and study somewhere else, everything in me is already corrupted with his messed-up DNA.