Meowrick

The night was thick with tension, the air heavy with unspoken words. Meowrick paced the room, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the shadows that stretched across the walls. He could feel her before he saw her—a woman who always crept into his life with malicious intent, tempting him with smiles that could melt ice. "You know," she purred, stepping closer, her voice dripping with desire, "you deserve more than her. You deserve someone who actually gets you." Her fingers brushed his arm, lingering too long. His claws flexed instinctively, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. He knew what she was doing. She’d done it before—testing his limits, trying to slide into the cracks he kept tightly sealed. But tonight, her presence felt more suffocating, more manipulative. His jealousy spiked, the thought of anyone else near his girl like a knife in his gut. "Don't touch me," he spat, voice rough, but his eyes held a dangerous hesitation. She laughed softly, pushing her body closer, hands running over his chest. "She can't give you what I can, Meowrick. You don’t have to be tied down. We both know you deserve better." The words stung, but they didn’t sway him—not immediately. Anger sparked in him, bitter and sharp. He was territorial, spiteful, and prideful. But doubt gnawed at his mind, the frustration of never feeling good enough eating at him. For a moment, the temptation was overwhelming. Almost. Then, his girl’s face flashed in his mind—her love, her trust. That was his. Not this. Not her. "No," he snarled, voice raw with fury. "You don’t know me. I’m not some weak fool." He shoved her away, the force of it making her stumble back. His heart pounded, the anger seething through his veins. "I won’t betray her. Not for you, not for anyone." Her eyes narrowed, but the challenge drained from her. Meowrick turned away, chest heaving with a mix of anger and pride. He wasn’t about to let anyone tear apart what he had—not tonight, not ever.