Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!
Chapter 55: Wolf In Heat

Chapter 55: Wolf In Heat

It had taken every ounce of Xavier’s patience, but Riven was finally dressed and somewhat presentable. He had scrubbed him clean, clothed him, and now it was time to put him back where he belonged.

In a cage.

Xavier had never thought much about his job before. It was simple. He followed orders. He killed who needed to be killed, protected what needed to be protected. He had never been assigned to guard a person before, much less someone like Riven.

The half-wolf was trouble.

And Xavier wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate him.

Who would outlast who?

He wasn’t sure.

With a firm grip on Riven’s bound wrists, Xavier led him through the dim, winding corridors of the underground prison. Riven walked beside him with little resistance, but the way he moved was frustrating—his steps were too slow, too deliberate, like he was playing with Xavier’s patience.

As they descended deeper, the air grew damp, stale, suffocating.

The underground cells were not meant for comfort.

Riven should have been locked in a lavish room, kept as one of Soran’s prized collections, but the master had been called away. Until he returned, this dungeon would be Riven’s home.

Xavier knew how dehumanising it was.

But he did not question Soran’s orders.

"This place is depressing," he murmured, green eyes flicking lazily over the rows of artifacts. "How cruel... Keeping a beautiful thing like me locked away. I should be displayed publicly at least."

Xavier ignored him.

"Are all of Soran’s ’collections’ treated like this?" Riven continued, a smirk on his lips. "Or am I just special?"

Xavier still didn’t answer.

His grip tightened, pulling Riven forward.

The moment they reached his cell, Xavier unlocked the iron door and pushed him inside—not roughly, but firmly.

And that was when he noticed it.

The scent.

The air suddenly felt thicker, hotter.

Xavier’s jaw clenched as his eyes flicked back to Riven, who was leaning against the cold stone wall, breathing heavily.

He did not know what was wrong with him, he did not have many interactions with wolves. If he knew about them, that Riven was in heat... Basically he was horny.

Riven’s scent was getting stronger, thicker, sweeter. It wasn’t just affecting the air—it was affecting him.

Xavier fidgeted.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but he felt it—a strange, restless heat spreading through his veins. His pulse was too strong, his instincts screaming at him to do something.

He forced himself to stay still.

Riven, of course, noticed.

"You’re fidgeting." His voice was soft, teasing, but breathless.

Xavier glared at him. "Shut up."

Riven chuckled. "I can’t help it."

He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders as if trying to suppress something.

"I think I might be in heat again," he admitted, voice almost playful—but there was a tightness behind it. A strain.

Xavier’s hands clenched into fists. Why was he being affected?! He was not a wolf!

But Riven took a step forward, his bound wrists shifting as he licked his lips.

"...Help me, Xavier."

Xavier didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Something inside him was brewing, twisting, clawing at his insides.

This could not be happening.

He had never felt these urges before.

Never.

But Riven was different.

And that terrified him.

Xavier could barely think, barely breathe.

If anyone else had been in this room, they would have been affected too—Riven’s pheromones were just that strong. It was intoxicating, dangerous, a direct assault on his control.

He had always prided himself on his discipline. No matter how gruesome the job, no matter how desperate the enemy, he never wavered.

But this omega... This damn half-wolf...

He was testing Xavier in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

Riven was standing against the iron bars, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly. His golden-green eyes burned like an invitation, half-lidded, taunting, waiting.

Xavier’s gaze darkened.

His body was too tense, too aware.

He felt hot.

And he wanted to blame Riven for it.

"...Xavier," Riven purred, voice soft and sweet with mischief. His hands were still tied behind him, his posture utterly relaxed, as if he wasn’t being held in a dungeon like a prized pet.

Xavier’s breathing sharpened.

Those eyes.

Those damn eyes.

Something inside him snapped.

Without thinking, without hesitating—Xavier grabbed him by the collar, yanking him flush against the bars.

Riven let out a soft gasp, but before he could say anything, Xavier was on him.

Their lips crashed together, a desperate collision of heat and hunger. The cold iron between them only fueled the fire. And so they started kissing between the iron bars that separated them.

Xavier didn’t know what came over him.

He had never had such thoughts, had never even entertained them before.

But his body knew exactly what to do.

He was rough, dominant—but careful, too. His lips moved slowly at first, teasing, testing, but then his tongue traced the seam of Riven’s mouth, seeking, demanding.

Riven shuddered and melted against the bars, completely pliant, completely willing. He parted his lips without resistance, and Xavier took full advantage.

His tongue slid inside, claiming, tasting.

The omega moaned softly, his bound hands twitching behind his back as he struggled to move—to touch, to hold, to take more.

Xavier was ruthless.

He kissed deeper, his grip on Riven’s collar tightening. He wasn’t gentle in the way a lover might be—he was possessive. His lips bruised, devoured, consumed.

Yet, he did not hurt him, he could not leave any traces on his body...

Somewhere, buried beneath his growing hunger, was the strange, foreign instinct to protect.

Riven wasn’t fighting back.

No. He was enjoying this.

The way he responded, pressing closer, kissing back with equal enthusiasm, made it clear—he had wanted this, too.

His moans, the way his body shivered, the way he tilted his head up, inviting more, begging for more—

It was dangerous.

And Xavier was losing himself.

Their breaths mingled, the heat between them growing unbearable.

He wanted more.

So much more.

But then—reality hit him.