Chapter 13: Come Back, the Child Has No Milk part 1
Jiang Zhaosheng was forced tightly against the Alpha’s chest. Shang Yan’s arm, like an iron hoop, constricted his waist so tightly that the air in his lungs was nearly exhausted.
The shivering sensation brought by the grazing of canine teeth against his nape, mixed with the strong, pungent Alpha pheromones, made his scalp tingle. A sense of humiliation surged in his stomach.
“Let go!” Jiang Zhaosheng squeezed these words from between his gritted teeth. His violent struggle made his sweat-dampened long hair stick messily to his cheeks as he futilely tried to break free from that iron-pincer-like constraint. He couldn’t act here; he couldn’t do it in front of this office door where someone could pass by at any moment…
He didn’t know where Shang Yan had gone or when he had appeared here to lie in wait, wearing a burgundy suit that looked like dried blood.
“Are you acting, or have you really been tamed into a house cat?” Shang Yan let out a sneer, his chest vibrating against Jiang Zhaosheng’s back. “Zhaozhao, when did you become so naive?”
Not only did he not let go, but he also lowered his head, his hot lips heavily grinding against Jiang Zhaosheng’s sensitive ear, causing the man in his arms to spasm.
“You are the ‘mother’ of my child.”
“Madman…” Jiang Zhaosheng gasped.
The Alpha’s pheromones were so thick they almost solidified. Jiang Zhaosheng finally understood why Shang Yan was so uncharacteristically urgent today.
“…Your rut is here?” he asked with difficulty.
“Hmm?” Shang Yan’s hand slid from his waist to his lower abdomen, slowly stroking it over and over. The action seemed to hint at the existence of some life, provoking an even more violent resistance from Jiang Zhaosheng. “Baby is so smart.”
…Jiang Zhaosheng could finally clearly distinguish the scent of Shang Yan’s pheromones—brandy, a liquor he once loved the most.
How ironic. Jiang Zhaosheng suppressed a surge of nausea: Jiang Wan had already left, but he couldn’t act immediately.
—He didn’t want to simply kill Shang Yan; he wanted to make him taste the sensation of living in hell, suffering in agony, unable to seek death.
“Come home with me. The child wants milk.”
Alphas in a rut are often extremely aggressive, especially after being rejected in pursuit. Shang Yan was different; he was abnormally “clingy”—tightening his arms, stroking Jiang Zhaosheng’s abdomen repeatedly, and speaking nonsense that would make one laugh.
“Home? Me and you?” Tiny goosebumps rose on Jiang Zhaosheng’s arms, and his nails dug deep into Shang Yan’s arms, but it only resulted in the other’s even more forceful constriction.
Shang Yan ignored his resistance, forcefully half-dragging and half-carrying him away from the office door.
As they passed a clean glass window, it reflected their entangled figures. Jiang Zhaosheng stumbled, his long hair forced to rub against the expensive fabric of Shang Yan’s suit, nearly covering half his face. However, on the small portion of the face that was exposed, those green pupils, lit by the faint moonlight peeking into the room, were like a window opened into high-grade raw jadeite, beautiful enough to take one’s breath away.
Jiang Zhaosheng was slammed hard against the cold floor-to-ceiling window by Shang Yan. In the confined space, the scent of fine liquor that had once fascinated him was now so disgusting it was suffocating.
Behind him, Shang Yan’s fingers roughly tilted his chin up, forcing him to look straight at his own wretched appearance in the mirror.
His long hair was completely disheveled; even if his clothes were only slightly messy, he looked far more pathetic than the well-dressed Shang Yan.
Rumble—!
A flash of blinding lightning streaked in the distance. If the glass were one-way, one could glimpse Jiang Zhaosheng’s paper-white complexion and those unusually red lips.
Shang Yan let go of Jiang Zhaosheng’s pinched-red cheek. As if he had discovered a new toy, his five fingers plunged deep into the long hair at the man’s nape.
The black strands wrapped around his fingers, carrying body heat since they had been pressed against warm skin. When the hair was lifted, the light fragrance of shampoo dissipated with the wind.
Shang Yan lowered his head, burying his nose in the cobweb-like strands in his palm, murmuring somewhat nasally:
“Changed your shampoo?”
“I prefer the scent from when I first met you… what brand did you use before?”
Jiang Zhaosheng felt the oxygen in his lungs was about to run out, his breath creating a blurred white mist on the cold glass.
“Look at you, Zhaozhao,” Shang Yan’s voice carried joy. “Aside from by my side, where else can you go?”
The person in the mirror had reddened eyes, and all the color in his face seemed to have concentrated on his lips—like a hauntingly beautiful ghost.
Jiang Zhaosheng closed his eyes, refusing to meet Shang Yan’s gaze in the mirror.
“Continue what wasn’t finished last time, hmm?”
Outside the window, the wild wind began to howl, and a sharp whistling sound filled his ears.
“Let’s go home first…”
Shang Yan seemed not to have heard clearly, the force in his hands loosening slightly. He carefully gathered the long hair at Jiang Zhaosheng’s nape, using his fingers to loosely hold it as if they were a hair tie:
“What did you say?”
These odd actions during the rut, along with that so-called “bedtime massage” last time… an extremely disgusting suspicion had long since emerged in Jiang Zhaosheng’s mind, though he was unwilling to think deeply about it.
That was, Shang Yan might… harbor some kind of twisted “love” for him.
It was utterly ridiculous, making him want to vomit. Yet this possibility was like a faint glimmer of light in the darkness.
—As long as Shang Yan harbored even a trace of “love” for him, Jiang Zhaosheng would turn it into a hellfire that would incinerate the other.
Perhaps he could change his strategy.
“Zhaozhao, what did you say?” Shang Yan was still holding his hair. At this moment, he was like an elementary school boy pulling the braid of a girl he liked, giving an unhurried tug that earned a suppressed gasp from Jiang Zhaosheng.
The decision was made, and the nausea was suppressed by the Beta.
Jiang Zhaosheng would let that unknown “love” in Shang Yan’s heart become the fuel for revenge, eventually burning back onto Shang Yan himself.
“Stop pulling,” he whispered. “It hurts.”
Unprecedentedly, the Alpha in his rut stopped his movement.
Jiang Zhaosheng didn’t give him a chance to turn the tables. He bit his lower lip, a hint of difficulty appearing on his face:
“I don’t want to here… this is a school—”
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to go home with you…”
Before the words had even landed, Shang Yan had already fiercely hugged his waist, lifting him up like a sack of rice! Jiang Zhaosheng’s abdomen slammed hard against the man’s hard shoulder, and he pounded on the man’s shoulders with force.
“Put me down!”
His vision was obscured by his long hair hanging down due to gravity. The office door was slammed open by Shang Yan, and a gust of cold, damp wind mixed with the scent of earth and grass rushed into his nose.
The thunderstorm was coming.
Downstairs, a black limousine sat like a dormant beast, waiting in silence.
Shang Yan deftly stuffed Jiang Zhaosheng into the back seat and squeezed in immediately after. The “clack” of the door locking rang out clearly, completely isolating them from the howling wind and rain outside.
The car moved off smoothly and swiftly. The neon lights outside were vibrant, but Jiang Zhaosheng had no time to look. He had just curled into the corner, his long hair scattered on the cold leather seat, and before he could even adjust his posture, he was pinned down from behind by Shang Yan. His jaw was forcefully turned, and a rough kiss landed without a word.
The lemon-scented air freshener that had originally filled the cabin was quickly and completely covered by the Alpha’s thick brandy pheromones.
The stray hairs on his face were swept into this storm-like kiss, and his tongue was constricted by a strand of hair. Shang Yan only seemed to notice then, brushing it away haphazardly before pressing down even harder, greedily plundering the Beta’s breath like a dying man desperate for oxygen.
……
After an unknown amount of time, the car entered a quiet villa area, eventually stopping in front of a brightly lit, low-key, and luxurious detached villa. Shang Yan was the first to get out. He went around to Jiang Zhaosheng’s side, opened the door, and dragged him out without a word. Jiang Zhaosheng was somewhat oxygen-deprived, his steps unsteady, as he was half-carried and half-hugged by Shang Yan into the brilliantly lit hallway.
The crystal chandelier poured down a cold, radiant light. The expensive incense in the air couldn’t hide the dense Alpha pheromones that were everywhere, like territorial markers.
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