Sweet Hatred
Chapter 76: Do whatever you want. I’ll let you.

Chapter 76: Do whatever you want. I’ll let you.

I should’ve said no. I should’ve pushed him off. But instead... my hips twitched. Just the tiniest shift forward.

His sharp inhale snapped against my ear like thunder. "That’s it..."

My body betrayed me. I grinded again—slow, small. Once. Twice. I stopped counting in my head.

"God, Aria," he groaned, voice cracking with need.

He was still clothed. I was still clothed. But it felt filthy. Raw. Desperate. Like if we moved just a little more, we’d both unravel. My panties were clinging to me now, soaked and useless, and the thick line of his cock beneath his pants was hitting just right.

"I only think about you."

A beat of silence. One of his hands slid up my back, fumbling with the clasp of my bra like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to rip it off or worship what was underneath.

"Kael—no," I hissed, catching his wrist before he could unhook it.

He growled softly, frustration and fever all tangled up in his touch. "Just one second... just let me—"

"No," I repeated, firmer this time, and he stilled beneath me, breathing hard.

Then he moved his head just enough to kiss the skin just below my jaw—feverish lips trailing fire down my neck.

And I let him. Just for a second more.

Then I grabbed his face. "Stop."

His eyes met mine again, and he looked... wrecked.

"Okay," he whispered. Finally. No fight. No protest. Just pure vulnerability.

I slipped off him, sitting beside the bed, chest rising and falling like I’d just run a marathon. I needed to pull myself together for a moment and also try to call Niko again to get medications for his fever.

He turned his face into the pillow, still breathing heavy, still hard. But quiet now.

"Go to sleep," I whispered. "I’m not going anywhere."

The room was dim and quiet except for Kael’s soft breathing and the occasional hiss of wind outside. I watched him, still curled in the sheets, shirt rumpled and clinging to his feverish skin. He looked like a storm pretending to be tame.

I reached for his phone again trying to think of a way to open it without waking him. I thought he was asleep until his fingers brushed the side of my thigh.

"I thought I said sleep," I murmured, trying not to react to the way his touch set fire to my skin.

"I am sleeping," he slurred, opening one eye. "... next to you."

He reached again, hand slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. This time slower, more purposeful. He sat up again slowly, mouth dragging along my shoulder, hot and needy. Like a damn stubborn mutt—

"Kael..."

His lips pressed against my collarbone. "If you’re still mad at me..." he whispered, voice rough but low, "then take it out on me. Do whatever you want. I’ll let you."

I froze.

"What?"

He looked up at me—messy hair, glazed eyes, but serious. "I’ll give you control, Aria. You want to be in charge? You can be. Use me. Hate me. I don’t care—just don’t stop touching me."

"... The fuck?" I breathed.

He chuckled weakly against my skin.

"I promised you didn’t I? That you could take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts. You can take your rage out on me Aria."

Was he really saying this?

"You’re really wasted, aren’t you" I said, even though my voice came out a little breathless.

"Maybe." He smirked lazily. "But I still mean it."

He kissed my jaw, then my throat, then lower—tugging at the neckline of my shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from salvation.

I grabbed his face with both hands, forcing his gaze back to mine.

"If you’re serious," I said, my voice firmer than I expected, "say it again. When you’re sober."

He blinked, then leaned in, mouthing at the corner of my lips. "If I say it again, you’ll break me."

"I’ll break you?" I scoffed, heart racing. "You’re the one crawling up my body like a damn stray cat in heat."

"I like it when you’re mean." He grinned.

Oh my god.

I shoved his chest gently, making him fall back against the bed.

"Kael."

"Mmm?"

"If you behave—and I mean behave—and let me take care of your fever first..."

He groaned like a wounded animal, but I didn’t let up.

"...then I’ll let you do whatever you want."

His breath caught. And then his eyes—glassy and wild—sparked with something feral.

"Promise?" he rasped.

"Promise," I whispered.

He licked his lips, pulling the sheets up like a petulant child being told to wait for dessert. "I hate you."

I leaned down and kissed his burning forehead. "Liar."

Kael laid there with his lashes fluttering, lips parted in a breathless whisper of my name—or maybe not my name at all. I couldn’t be sure anymore. I was sitting cross-legged beside him, a cool cloth in my hand, dabbing gently at his flushed skin.

His fever hadn’t gone down much, and despite how he kept trying to grope me between half-coherent flirting and groans, there was a clear fragility to him tonight. One I was very not used to.

I sighed, dipping the cloth back into the bowl of water.

"Do you ever stop being exhausting?" I whispered, brushing his sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.

He didn’t answer. He just shifted, letting out a low hum of approval as the cloth slid across his chest.

That’s when I noticed it—the pale, silvery line stretching diagonally across his ribs. Faint, but visible enough that it caught the low light.

A scar.

I frowned. There was another just above his hip. Another near his shoulder.

How did I never notice these before?

My fingers hovered, hesitant, before I reached out and traced one softly. Kael flinched—not in pain, but like my touch startled him even in his half-sleep.

And then my eyes dropped a little lower.

Just above his waistband, ink peeked out. Barely there. Thin, subtle lines, etched along the sharp V of his abdomen. I leaned closer.

It was a minimalist dagger. Sleek. Elegant. Hidden well enough that you’d only see it if you were this close. Along the hilt, tiny words were inked in what looked like Latin.

I mouthed the phrase under my breath, not quite able to read the full line. But the edge of the dagger seemed to fade into a shadowy flick—almost like the blade was slicing into him.

A quiet, dangerous beauty. Just like him.

Why was that... kind of hot?

I blinked, forcing myself to look away as heat crept up my neck.

He groaned again and murmured something under his breath. I leaned closer instinctively.

"...Ivan..."

My brows furrowed.

There it was again. That name. Ivan. Before I could think too much about it, a knock on the door made me jump. I snatched the cloth off his chest, suddenly self-conscious.

"Miss Thorne?" came Niko’s voice. "I brought the doctor."

I looked down at Kael again, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the sweat curling at the nape of his neck. This man was a mess. Complicated. Bruised. Hot to the touch in more ways than one. But for some reason... I couldn’t look away.

"Coming," I called softly, and gently pulled the sheets up over him.