Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 72: Why Was He Not Afraid?

"Easy now," Soren whispered.

Riven lay beneath him, his ebony hair splayed messily against the dark sheets. His breathing was uneven, but his emerald eyes remained locked onto Soren with something unreadable.

Soren had meant to break him, to strip him of his arrogance, to remind him who held the power here. Yet, as he stared down at the wolf trapped beneath him, something inside him wavered.

He shouldn’t hesitate.

And yet, he did.

His fingers, which had been gripping Riven’s wrists too tightly before, loosened. His body, which had been brimming with frustration, softened ever so slightly. And before he could stop himself, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft, far too gentle for what he had planned. Their lips met with hesitant warmth rather than force. It was slow—undeniably tender.

Soren hated it.

Or at least, he told himself he did.

This wasn’t what he had intended. He was supposed to teach Riven his place, to make him understand the power dynamic between them. He wanted to watch him squirm, to break past that cocky attitude and hear him beg. But as he tasted the heat of Riven’s lips, he felt none of the expected satisfaction.

Only conflict.

The sharp tang of disgust curled in his stomach—not for Riven, but for himself.

He was reminded of her. That wretched woman who had once chained him down, who had stripped him of his freedom, who had touched him with hands he could still feel crawling over his skin in his nightmares.

Soren was not like her. He refused to be.

His grip tightened in Riven’s hair, but his touch lacked the cruelty he had initially intended. Riven didn’t flinch—he looked at him with something unreadable, something that made Soren’s stomach twist.

He had planned to be ruthless. He had wanted to see fear, submission... Helplessness. All that he felt when he went through... What he did. But he did not see any of that in Riven’s eyes.

Which made him feel weird, he dared to entertain the thought that Riven truly meant what he said. The words soon left his mouth, "Didn’t you say you could get pregnant, I specifically made sure to fill you up with my seed. You better give me the heir you promised."

Riven blinked uncertainly for a second and tried to speak, "I-" but what could he say? He was the one who offered to! But he did not want to get pregnant! He needed to boink more hot men!

He knew very well that if he said anything now, Soren would probably eat him alive so he would shut up for his own sake.

He exhaled sharply and forced his usual smirk back into place, though it felt hollow. "Don’t look at me like that," he muttered, his voice low and dark. "You think this means something? It doesn’t." freewebnøvel.coɱ

Riven raised a brow, amusement flickering in his expression despite the situation. "You’re the one who wants to get me pregnant."

Soren narrowed his eyes, and without warning he roughly removed the ring that firmly bound Riven’s member. Riven hissed in pain and pouted. This man never wanted to lose the argument and if he did, he would punish him!

Riven carefully eyed that ring as Soren put it in the drawer next to the bed. Wait does this mean that it would be just within reach in case he needed it in the future? He refused! He refused to be denied a release, was this not a one-time thing? Was this going to keep happening to him?!

The soft clinking of metal filled the dimly lit room as Soren slowly undid the restraints around Riven’s wrists and ankles. His expression was unreadable, but the deep furrow in his brow spoke volumes. As soon as the cold metal left Riven’s skin, angry red marks were revealed beneath them.

Soren frowned. He knew this would happen. He had spent enough time in chains himself to understand how they dug into the skin, how they left their presence long after they were removed. It had happened to him more times than he could count, but he had grown a thicker skin. At least, that was what he told himself.

Yet, looking at those red marks on Riven’s wrists, an unfamiliar sensation twisted in his chest.

Disgust.

But not at Riven. At himself.

He hated anyone who said they loved him. Love was a curse, a trap. It was nothing more than a twisted game played by those who sought to control and break others. He had lived through that game once before, and he had sworn he would never play the role of the victim again.

But this—this was different.

He expected Riven to flinch, to recoil, to glare at him with fear or resentment. That was how people were supposed to react after being at his mercy. But Riven did none of those things.

Instead, the wolf simply twisted his wrists and ankles, stretching them as if he had just woken from a nap. There was no trembling, no hesitation. He wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t even seem angry.

Soren’s fingers curled into a fist.

Why?

Why wasn’t he afraid?

Whatever he wanted to do, Riven would go along with it. He wasn’t resisting. That meant there was no fear.

And if there was no fear... Then what was this feeling crawling under Soren’s skin?

His grip tightened on the discarded chains as his black eyes remained fixed on the red marks. Something about them bothered him. He had been prepared to toss a jar of healing salve toward Riven and leave before all of these confusing thoughts had surfaced. That had been his original plan.

But now... Now he didn’t want to leave yet.

He grabbed the small jar of ointment from the bedside table, popped the lid open, and scooped some of the cool cream onto his fingers. Without a word, he took Riven’s wrist in his hand and began applying the salve, his touch strangely gentle despite the roughness of his grip.

He seemed to care for this wolf.