Chapter 87. Who Would’ve Thought That I Will Do It With Velora Now...**

Chapter 87: 87. Who Would’ve Thought That I Will Do It With Velora Now...**

As her fingers closed around mine, I didn’t gently reciprocate.

Instead, I jerked my hand back, seizing her wrist with a sudden, bruising force that snapped the fragile tenderness of the moment like dry kindling.

Velora gasped, her body tensing instinctively, but she didn’t pull away. She stumbled forward, drawn in by the momentum of my grip until her face was mere inches from mine.

The air between us burned, charged with a static that felt less like affection and more like a gathering storm.

I let the mask of the wounded patient slip. The exhaustion, the grief—I pushed it all aside to reveal something colder, something darker that had been simmering beneath my skin since the first time she had looked at me with nothing but disdain.

I fixed her with a stare so sharp, so utterly devoid of the softness she expected, that I saw her pupils dilate.

I wanted her to see it... I wanted her to understand that this wasn’t a healing ritual. This was a claiming.

This was going to be raw, unrepentant, and violent in its intensity. I was going to take what the system demanded, and I wasn’t going to pretend it was gentle.

Velora swallowed hard, a visible tremor running through her throat. Her golden eyes searched mine, seeking the Leon she thought she knew but finding only a predator.

"Leon..." she whispered, her breath ghosting over my lips.

She saw the hunger there... hopefully the vengeful, desperate hunger of a man who had been pushed to the edge.

"You wanted this, Velora," I rasped, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, rough as grinding stone. "You said you chose this..."

"And you said you wouldn’t be used." I leaned closer, my grip tightening until her pulse throbbed visibly against my palm. "But I am not asking for permission anymore..."

"Also... I am not asking for comfort."

A shudder passed through her massive frame... it was not of fear, but of something far more dangerous. Her tail flicked once, twice, betraying the arousal she was trying to suppress.

She was a Nightclaw... she had been forged in violence, trained to endure pain that would break lesser beings.

A human’s rough hands wouldn’t break her body, but she seemed to realize they might break something else entirely.

"I know," she breathed, her voice gaining a strange, defiant steadiness. "I know what I said to you."

"Before... when I thought you were nothing more than a fragile, weak human." A flush crept up her neck, deep and crimson. "I was wrong... I was cruel, and I was ignorant."

Her eyes locked onto mine, burning with a terrifying sincerity. "I deserve whatever you have to give, Leon..."

"Whether it is kindness... or if you need to hurt me to feel alive again..."

"I... uh... I trust you... I want you to take whatever you need."

The confession hit me like a physical blow, but it didn’t soften me. More like that it fed the fire.

The hypocrisy of her species... hating humans while craving one—was a delicious irony that tasted like copper in my mouth.

"Then don’t regret it when I don’t stop," I warned, my thumb pressing hard against the delicate skin of her wrist.

"I won’t," she promised, her voice breaking into a needy whimper. "Please... Leon, please."

I didn’t give her time to retreat into her thoughts. I closed the distance between our faces.

When our lips met, it wasn’t a kiss... I can tell that it was a collision because I was actually looking forward to this.

It was teeth against lips, tongue seeking territory, a desperate struggle for dominance that tasted of salt and desperation.

A low, guttural growl rumbled deep in my chest as I pulled her closer, feeling the impressive swell of her breasts crushing against my muscular frame.

Velora made a sound... I can hear a choked, surprised noise that melted into a moan halfway through—as she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me into her heat.

Her mind must have been racing, reeling from the realization that the ’inferior’ human she had despised was now the only thing grounding her to the earth.

She had spent her life believing humans were predators to them, but as she kissed me with a ferocity that matched my own, she realized she had found something far more dangerous than a predator... it was a man who knew exactly how to break her.

We broke apart for air, both of us panting, our breath mingling in the dim blue light of the pre-dawn room. Velora’s head lolled back for a second before she forced herself to meet my gaze again.

Her golden eyes were glassy, unfocused for a heartbeat as she struggled to reclaim her composure, but she refused to look away.

She was trying to prove she could stand before me even now, and even after I had stripped away her dignity with a single stare.

"Velora," I rasped, my voice dripping with a dark, predatory intent. "Since you’re so determined to be mine tonight... let’s stop pretending this is about comfort."

"Tonight... we pretend we’re mates. And I mean it like real mates, where you probably knew about this."

"The kind that don’t ask, but the kind that take."

A deep, violent flush flooded her cheeks, spreading down past her collarbone. The implication hung between us like smoke.

I didn’t wait for her to answer verbally. I let my hand slide down from her wrist, my palm rough and warm as it traveled up her arm to her chest.

Through the thin fabric of her shirt, I found them... yes... there are two sweet, juicy fucking tits of hers. Heck yeah, they were massive, heavy, and soft, filling my palm completely.

I knew she wore nothing beneath the cloth, and that’s because I could feel the unmistakable shape of her nipples hardening against the fabric at the slightest pressure.

"You’re trembling," I whispered against her ear, my teeth grazing her lobe. "Is the Nightclaw afraid of a human?"

"I am... not afraid," she panted, though her breathing was shallow and uneven. "I told you that... I choose this."

Her defiance ignited something primal in me. Velora didn’t hesitate.

With a sudden, desperate urgency born of guilt and arousal, she tore at her own clothing. Her fingers fumbled with buttons and laces as she stripped herself bare, casting the fabric aside until she stood before me in the candlelight, completely exposed.

And yep, every beastwoman is my thing. So was she... She was breathtaking.

She wasn’t built like the hulking warriors I’d seen from Magnara... she didn’t have that excessive, bulky muscle, but still, though... she was a masterpiece of functional lethality.

Her stomach was tight, defined by a faint, seductive six-pack that rippled when she breathed, and her hips flared out into an ass that was impossibly round and firm.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling my thighs, her knees digging into the mattress as she leaned forward, challenging me with those golden eyes.

"Well?" she challenged, her voice cracking with need. "I’ve been cruel to you for too long, Leon..."

"Take what you deserve... Make me pay for it."

A slow, wicked smile spread across my face. My playboy instincts, honed by survival and desire, took over.

I reached up, capturing both of her heavy breasts in my hands. They were magnificent... pale, warm, and impossibly full.

I began to knead them, rolling the soft flesh between my fingers, sliding my thumbs up and down over her peaked nipples.

"Nnh... Ah!" Velora let out a sharp, keening moan as I squeezed, her head falling back. "Leon... oh god..."

"So perfect," I muttered, my eyes roaming over every inch of her.

She was untouched, and yep... my favorite just because I could tell by the way her body reacted to every touch and the way she seemed almost overwhelmed by the sheer sensation of a human’s hands on her.

"You’re exactly what I wanted."

As I played with her breasts, my other hand wandered lower, slipping between her thighs. The heat radiating from her was intense.

As my fingers brushed against her inner thigh, I felt it—she was already slick. She was soaking wet.

"Look at you," I growled, my fingers finding the entrance to her heat. "So eager to be punished."

I pressed two fingers against her entrance, and she let out a strangled scream of pleasure. Her pussy was unlike anything I’d ever encountered... like it was a pure, delicate, and impossibly pink thing, the petals of her flesh soft and swollen with arousal.

It was a sacred thing, untouched by any other, and the contrast between her fierce reputation and this vulnerable, wet reality made my blood boil.

"Mmmph... Haaah... Leon, please..." she whined, her hips bucking involuntarily against my hand.

Her claws dug into my shoulders as she arched her back, her massive tits bouncing with every desperate movement. "It feels... too much... ahhh!"

I began to caress her, sliding my fingers along the sensitive folds, feeling the slickness coat my skin.

Every stroke drew out a new sound from her—whimpers, broken moans, and guttural growls that sounded more panther than woman.

The tension in the room was suffocating, a volatile mix of revenge, guilt, and raw, unadulterated lust.