Chapter 2: That Mate-Bond Feeling
The frenzied monster thrust in and out of Jacintha’s pussy, treating her as nothing more than a toy to vent his lust, utterly indifferent to the fact that her body was also made of flesh—that it, too, could feel pain and injury. All he cared about was satisfying his twisted sexual desires in this moment.
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Jacintha’s stomach convulsed violently, and the monster only quickened his pace before finally slamming forward with brutal force.
"Aaaaah...!"
The monster released his cum deep into Jacintha’s womb just as her pussy gushed, splashing fluid everywhere—both of them reaching their climax at the same time.
"Haa… haaah…"
Jacintha panted, her tight pussy still clenching around the cock buried inside her. Then, darkness swallowed her vision, and she felt nothing more.
After ejaculating, Raphael finally felt some relief from the discomfort in his body, but his gaze remained fixed on the human woman lying on the bed.
The blindfold covered nearly half her face, revealing only the delicate tip of her nose and those plump, alluring lips. Though he couldn’t see her full features, Raphael was certain she must be beautiful.
Her smooth, porcelain skin was streaked with vivid red blood, like a white snowflower crushed beneath a storm. Her fiery red hair cascaded in tangled locks, gleaming like flames caught in the wind, now damp with sweat, wild and intoxicating. She carried the scent of fresh lemon and summer magnolias—the only fragrance that had ever made the wolf inside him howl in response.
In a moment when reason slipped through his grasp, Raphael lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. The instant their mouths met, a jolt of electricity ran down his spine. His heart pounded with an unfamiliar force—not from desire, but something deeper, as if a dormant part of his blood had suddenly awakened. The sweetness of the sensation clung to him, making it almost impossible to pull away.
Suddenly, Raphael shoved Jacintha aside and sprang up from the bed. On the sheer curtain, the silhouette of a tall creature appeared clearly—pointed ears and an elongated snout stretching forward.
It was a werewolf.
The Wulfhart werewolf clan had existed among humans for eight hundred years, building a vast empire of power and dominance. Naturally, Wulfhart became a coveted prize, drawing the greed and envy of countless other supernatural forces.
That night, due to a moment of carelessness, Raphael had been drugged by an enemy using an aphrodisiac brewed by witches. The potion stripped him of control, and if he didn’t have sex with a pure, virgin female within an hour, he would permanently transform into a beast—a wolf that could never return to human form.
If that happened, Wulfhart would be defenseless against stronger powers, for an Alpha who had lost his mind could no longer lead. Fortunately, Raphael’s subordinates managed to find a virgin female just in time—though she was merely a human.
In truth, before entering this room, Raphael had still been able to restrain his body. But the moment he saw Jacintha, something unexplainable snapped. He lunged at her, desperate to claim her then and there.
At first, he believed it was the drug driving him into madness. But now—why was he still drawn to her? This feeling... it was as if he had met his fated mate.
Impossible! Sharon was his mate, the one foretold by every prophecy. And yet, why—why had he never felt himself unravel like this, never melted the way he did when his lips touched this human woman’s?
The moment the thought surfaced, Raphael immediately dismissed it, a surge of inexplicable anger rising within him. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, desperate to get away from the woman who had somehow shaken his emotions.
"Maybe this is just a side effect of the drug!" Raphael thought. "I need to find Sharon—she's my destined mate!"
Before disappearing into the shadows, Raphael gave an order.
"Clean her up properly..." he hissed, pausing for a heartbeat, his crimson eyes flashing with something unspoken. "I never want to see her again."
Raphael felt like he had just made the hardest decision of his life. He couldn’t stay another second. He knew that if he did, he would throw away all reason, forget about Sharon, abandon Wulfhart—just to hold that woman in his arms forever. And that was something he would never allow to happen.
...
Six years later.
Boom!
Thunder cracked through the sky like a whip, lightning tearing the pitch-black night apart. Rain poured down in torrents, hammering violently against the car windows.
The vehicle came to a stop in the middle of the downpour. Inside, the dim lighting cast long shadows, thickening the already heavy, oppressive silence.
After a beat, Raphael turned to the woman beside him with a cold, mocking smirk tugging at his lips.
"What did you just say? That you like me?"
Jacintha didn’t seem to catch the derision in his voice. She merely gave a soft, almost inaudible hum in response.
Then came Raphael’s scornful chuckle.
"A woman like you, who’s willing to take off her pants for money and let me fuck her—what right do you have to say you like me?"
Jacintha’s face instantly froze, her expression crumpling in shame and discomfort. Her lips parted as if to speak, but her throat tightened, no sound coming out.
Raphael gripped Jacintha’s chin, his cold eyes fixed on her for a long moment before he let go with evident disgust. The overpowering stench of cheap perfume clinging to her made him nauseous. Yet, buried beneath the mix of artificial scents was a familiar hint of lemon that, strangely, soothed and relaxed him.
Over the years, many—both humans and werewolves—had tried to become his sugar baby for fame or fortune. They were all the same, pretending to be pure and claiming they loved him, not his wealth, hoping to use affection as a bargaining chip for greater benefits. That blend of deceit and greed was what Raphael despised most.
In truth, when Jacintha told him she liked him, his heart inexplicably pounded in his chest, as if something deep in his subconscious urged him to return her affection. But Raphael resisted that instinct fiercely. He loathed it—and he loathed the one who stirred it—Jacintha.
For a woman like Jacintha, who was willing to sell her body for money, the word "love" could never be genuine when it came from her lips. Which was why, aside from having sex, Raphael had absolutely no interest in doing anything else with her.
Jacintha had been his sugar baby for two years now, and to this day, Raphael still didn’t know what she liked to eat or who her family members were. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find out—he simply had no desire to.
Anyone else, he wouldn’t have kept around for more than a month. But somehow, it was different with Jacintha. He’d tried to leave her several times, but each time, something pulled him back. As if… he couldn’t cut her off completely.
Raphael figured it was probably just the face that had gotten to him.