Chapter 74:The Fever of Want
The penthouse felt like a tomb, an immaculate prison where every surface gleamed with the same cold indifference that had grown in him. Sanlang's every breath was like a shackle — a chain wrapping tighter around his chest, each inhale an agony, each exhale a silent scream. His hands trembled as they brushed over the glass, fingers caressing the smooth, indifferent surface. Outside, the world was a sea of lights, shimmering and vibrant, unaware of the violent war that raged inside him.
Her.
Her name was the only thing that bled through the chaos of his mind, seeping into his soul like a poison. Noor.
He whispered it like a prayer, but no god would answer. It was an invocation, a summons — an invocation to a demon he couldn't exorcise. The thought of her had become his disease. The image of her — that quiet, perfect beauty — was his torment, and yet, he was consumed by it, consumed by her.
The piano — the damned piano — was a mockery. The keys stood silent beneath his fingers, yet his mind sang her name over and over again. Her voice, her laughter, the rustle of her dress as she moved. It was all too much, and yet never enough. His skin burned with a ferocity that had no relief. His body craved something more than air; it craved her.
His voice is low, rough, like a confession he never meant to speak aloud.
"Run from me all you want, Noor… but I will catch you."
"You breathe, and I feel it. You move, and I notice. You exist, and I suffer."
"Tell me, do you ever think of me when you close your eyes?"
The thought shattered the fragile remnants of his control. It wasn't desire anymore; it was a compulsion. It was a need, so raw and savage, it ripped at him from the inside, clawing at his mind, tearing through his thoughts like a beast through flesh. Every image, every memory of her was a cut to the heart. She was everywhere, and yet, she was always so far beyond his reach. She belongs to me.
Sanlang's fists slammed down onto the piano keys, the sound jarring, like his very soul crying out in agony. The harsh note echoed around him, bouncing off the walls, but there was nothing to drown out the deafening roar of his own thoughts.
No one can have her but me.
He wanted to strip her bare. Not just of silk and lace—but of her indifference, her distance. He wanted to tear through the cold mask she wore, force her to see him, to acknowledge what she did to him.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. His body throbbed, need pooling low in his stomach, dark and demanding. He let his head fall back, eyes squeezing shut as he surrendered to the images flooding his mind.
Her lips—parted, gasping.
Her breath—hot, shallow, begging.
Her body—his.
A growl rumbled in his chest as his hands moved on their own, as his body betrayed him. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. But the fire inside him wouldn't be ignored. The hunger had reached its peak, and there was only one way to silence it.
His body was a furnace, flames licking at every inch of him, burning away the remnants of reason, of humanity. The heat inside him surged — uncontrollable, unstoppable. His heart pounded in his chest as his breath quickened, growing shallow. The world around him swirled into a blur as his mind latched onto one thought.
Her. Her skin. Her body. Her touch. Her indifference.
She dares to ignore me, to hold herself so high... His hands, shaking, moved to his chest, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt. She dares to make me feel like this? His chest rose and fell, each breath a desperate, tortured effort as his body screamed for release.
You have no idea what you do to me?
He staggered, pacing in violent, erratic movements, his head spinning. The room felt smaller, suffocating. He was losing himself. Losing control. Each step took him deeper, further into the dark pit of his own desires. His hands gripped the furniture, his nails digging into the leather, his breath hot and ragged, each exhale a tortured sigh.
You think you can resist me?
The thought flashed in his mind, but it wasn't a thought. It was an order. A command. He wasn't begging anymore. He wasn't pleading. He was demanding. Submit to me. Break for me.
His body moved of its own accord, a marionette in the hands of his uncontrollable hunger. He wanted to destroy everything. To break her, to break himself. He wasn't a man anymore; he was a beast, fueled by the primal need to possess, to claim.
I need to feel you under me. I need to bury myself inside you. To destroy every part of you, to make you scream my name.
His fingers found his pants, yanking them down with a savage growl. The friction of the fabric against his skin sent a wave of scorching heat through him, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. His hands were wild, frenzied, desperate to feel something — anything — that could fill the void she had left in him.
Do you have any idea what you do to me, Noor?
His body throbbed, a pulse of desperate need pushing through every inch of him. His mind had become a warzone, a battleground where every thought, every impulse screamed at him, demanding more, pushing him closer to the edge of madness.
He wanted to scream. To shout her name and shatter the silence that pressed in on him. But even as the words formed on his lips, he knew she would never come. She would never hear him.
And that was the worst of it. That was the torture. The quiet, unspoken truth that she was untouchable. She was too far away, too pristine, too perfect. And yet, that perfection was his undoing. He wanted to break her. To crack open the cold, untouchable shell she wore and find the truth inside. He wanted to strip her down, not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. He wanted to own her in every way possible.
You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of.
He stopped himself, his hand gripping the edge of the coffee table, his knuckles white from the force. His breath came in ragged gasps as the wave of desire crashed over him again, more intense than before, more violent.
"You want me, don't you?"
His mind was a warpath now, an inferno. It didn't matter that she was miles away. She was here with him, inside him, twisting him into something else, something darker.
You'll break eventually. Everyone does. You'll break for me.
Sanlang's heart thundered in his chest, his mind slipping into darker, deeper places. He was no longer thinking — he was feeling. His fingers clenched into fists, the sharp pain grounding him for only a second before it was gone, swept away by the tidal wave of his desires. The need to dominate, to control, to possess her was overwhelming.
And he hated himself for it.
But the more he fought it, the more he craved it. The more he wanted to drown in it.
He pressed his palm against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, the frantic pulse of his veins. There was nothing left. No room for guilt, no space for shame. He was too far gone.
His head tilts back, laughter rolling from his lips, dark and bitter.
"Do you even know what you've done?"
"I have power. I have control. And yet, you... you've brought me to my knees."
"I should hate you for this. Maybe I do. Maybe that's why I want to ruin you."
And as he closed his eyes, the darkness overwhelmed him, pulling him under, deep into the abyss where only one truth remained:
She was his.
"I need you," he whispered again, but this time, there was no tenderness in the words. They were a plea, a demand, a desperate cry for something that could never be his.
His chest rose and fell in shallow, frantic breaths as he struggled to regain control.
Noor... I need you, only you..."he gasped, his body shuddering as the heat finally overwhelmed him, the wave of release crashing over him with an intensity that left him breathless.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sharp pleasure that tore through him, his body trembling with the force of it. He let out a low, guttural moan, his hand slackening as the tension melted away.
"I'm not worthy of you," he muttered bitterly, the realization hitting him with brutal clarity. Noor was untouchable. And yet, she haunted him. She was both his salvation and his damnation.
His vision blurred, his body burning with a need that had nowhere to go. His head throbbed, his pulse a violent drum against his skin. The illusion fractured, the fantasy slipping through his fingers like smoke.
Sanlang's eyes snapped open.
And he was alone,alone in the consuming darkness.
The room was suffocating, the air heavy with the scent of his own desperation. His fingers dug into his scalp, his jaw tightening so hard it ached.
"Damn you, Noor," he rasped. "Damn you for making me like this."
His hands trembled as he reached for the first thing in sight—a crystal glass. It shattered against the floor, shards glinting under the dim light.
But the violence didn't cool the fire.
It only made him want her more.
His chest heaved as he raked a hand down his face, laughing bitterly at his own madness. He was losing himself, slipping into something more dangerous.
His voice is hoarse, raw with something he barely understands.
"You don't even see me, do you, Noor?"
"I burn for you. And you… you walk away without a second glance."
His fingers press against the piano keys, but the music won't come. Only silence.
"I don't want to own you. I just… I just want you to look at me like I matter."
"Tell me, Noor, what will it take? What do I have to do for you to see me?"
He exhales, his hands shaking as they run through his hair.
"I've had everything. Women, power, fame. And yet, none of it means a damn thing because it's not you."
"You think I want to break you? No, Noor… I just want to hold you."
His fists tighten, frustration lacing his voice.
"Damn it, Noor! You can push me away all you want, but I won't stop loving you."
"You can keep your distance, but I'll always be here, waiting. Hoping."
His head tilts back, a bitter smile curving his lips.
"You are the only thing in this world I cannot have. And yet… I'd die trying.