[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice Chapter 203: The Urge I Couldn’t Fight

~Evric’s POV~

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was cry, the overwhelming wave of relief that I hadn’t been violated, mixed with the terror of how close I’d co, shook my entire body.

Karl reached for the phone, clearly intending to call—Zayn.

I managed to grab his arm. "Don’t," I gasped, wiping desperately at my eyes. "Don’t call. Just... help get into the restroom. I need to be subrged,to try and suppress the urge in my body. I thought"

"Okay." Karl nodded, instantly shifting into crisis mode. He helped up, supporting my shaky weight, and guided into the private attached restroom. Once he was sure I was stable, he quietly went back outside, closing the door behind him.

I stripped myself naked and stumbled into the shower. I cranked the cold water on full blast and stood there, letting the icy spray shock my heated skin. All I did was try to hold myself together. The fear was crippling; the thought that if Nicki had succeeded, this night would have been the end of my relationship with Zayn was devastating. Thinking about that alone made cry harder. But I was glad I was safe. I promised myself, Nicki, I won’t let you escape punishnt this ti.

After my body cald a little, though the physical urge still throbbed beneath the surface, I stepped out from the shower. The cool water only offered temporary relief. I knew that since it was a drug, the effect wouldn’t truly dissipate until I satisfied the induced need.

When I got back outside, Karl was waiting anxiously. "What in God’s na really happened?"

I explained everything, leaving no detail out. "The food sent here wasn’t from Zayn. It was Nicki. And there were drugs inside it."

"What?!" Karl shouted, his jaw dropping. He cursed Nicki in a low, furious stream. "What are we going to do now, Evric?"

"I need to get Zayn first," I said, my voice urgent. "He’s not picking up my call, and Nicki told he went to Nantam’s house."

Karl thought for a mont. "You should send a sincere apology ssage to Zayn and tell him to share his location. Don’t ntion Nicki yet, just tell him you’re worried about him."

I did exactly as Karl told . Monts later, my phone pinged. Truly, Zayn sent his location.

I left the office with Karl. My body was still far from right; even after spending so long under the cold shower, I was still sweating. My driver was waiting downstairs, parked right at the curb by the main entrance. I slid into the backseat.

I shared Zayn’s location with my driver and bid goodbye to Karl. "Go straight to that location," I ordered. My driver imdiately pulled out, speeding into the night, the illuminated map on the dashboard showing our route to the coordinates Zayn had sent.

After a tense few minutes, the car finally reached the location: a quiet, upscale residential street.

I didn’t move. I simply stared at the house until the front door opened and Zayn stepped out. He paused, gave a curt goodbye to soone inside, and then walked toward the waiting car.

He opened the back door, slid in beside , and slamd the door shut with an unnecessary force that spoke volus of his lingering anger.

"Hey, babe," I offered, my greeting quiet and cautious.

"Hey," he replied, he didn’t et my eyes, instead focusing his gaze rigidly on the window.

I wanted to reach out, to beg for forgiveness, to confess the terrifying ordeal that had just happened, but the cold distance radiating off him stopped .

My driver pulled back onto the road, heading toward ho. The car was filled with a thick, suffocating silence. Zayn sat pressed against the door, putting as much space as possible between us. He was punishing , and for once, I knew I completely deserved it. I closed my eyes, fighting the drug and the despair, knowing that the confrontation awaiting us at the house would be worse than any fight we’d ever had.

The driver pulled up to the house entrance, and the car slowed to a stop. The journey had been interminable, the silence between us a living, suffocating thing.

We walked inside, the grand hallway feeling colder and emptier than usual. Zayn didn’t offer a glance or a word; he walked straight to the bedroom, leaving to trail behind.

Once in the room, Zayn imdiately changed into his sleepwear and climbed onto his side of the bed. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, effectively erecting a massive wall between us.

I desperately needed to tell him about Nicki, about the drug, and about the terrifying close call, but the situation was already volatile. I couldn’t risk revealing the attack while he was actively despising ; he might mistake my need for pity, or worse, see it as another manipulative attempt to control him. I needed things to be sorted out between us first.

I sat on the edge of the bed and spoke, my voice low and earnest. "Babe, I am so sorry. I know I was controlling and awful. I don’t know what ca over in that restroom. It was a completely unacceptable way to treat you, and I deeply regret it."

Zayn gave no reply. He didn’t move. He simply stared at the ceiling, ignoring my apology entirely.

I lay down beside him, the physical urge caused by the drug intensifying the mont I was horizontal. A terrible thought struck : Zayn would probably refuse sex tonight, especially since we’d already had a marathon session this morning. But I couldn’t control the urgent, chemical need clawing at my sanity. I knew I couldn’t fight the drug for much longer.

I had to make a move, to find a way to connect with him, and then maybe I could confess.

I shifted carefully, moving closer to him. I intended to whisper another apology, to soften him up with affection, but the drug had different plans. As I drew near, my erection, rock-hard and throbbing, brushed against his thigh.

Zayn instantly exploded, flying upright on the bed.