Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 123: Crying

Riven barely had the chance to pull away, his body pinned between the cold, unyielding wall and the relentless presence of the Alpha in front of him. The stone bit into his back, halting any attempt to escape, and he found himself trapped—emotionally, physically, wholly.

Ronan didn’t let up, his kiss persistent and raw, as if he were trying to etch his name into Riven’s soul with every press of his lips.

Riven’s hands moved on their own, nails curling and digging into Ronan’s back, drawing a hiss from the Alpha. He hadn’t intended to hurt him—maybe he had, a little—but even that sharp sting didn’t slow Ronan. If anything, it only seemed to drive him further.

Ronan’s body was a wall of heat, trembling with restraint. The desperation he tried to hide—unsuccessfully—was thick in the air between them.

He was clinging to this moment, to Riven, as though any wrong word, any faltering movement, would cause the entire fragile connection to collapse. He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t. Not when the possibility of rejection hung so heavily in the air.

He had been holding on for so long. Enduring. Hoping. But now, he stood at the edge of his limit. Riven didn’t know how close Ronan was to breaking, how one word could either undo him or heal him.

So Ronan didn’t give Riven the chance to speak.

Not yet.

Instead, he devoured the silence between them. He pulled away from Riven’s swollen lips, only slightly, leaving a trail of kisses as he moved downward, planting lingering kisses along the flushed curve of Riven’s cheek. His breath was heavy, uneven, hot against cool skin.

Then, he reached Riven’s jaw.

Without warning, Ronan bit down—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to leave a small imprint, a mark of possession. Riven jolted, his body trembling in his arms, legs clenching tighter around his waist in instinctual reaction.

The way Riven reacted pleased his soul, it made him comfortable.

He could feel the need stirring inside him, aching, building, twisting low in his gut.

"Ronan..." Riven whispered his name like a secret. Like a plea.

But Ronan didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

His kisses trailed from jaw to throat, hungry and deliberate, tasting the delicate skin, savoring the shudders that rippled through Riven’s frame. He sought that perfect spot, the scent gland just beneath the curve of his neck—the place where he should have been able to claim him, fully and wholly. His mouth moved down, only to meet something cold and uninviting.

The collar.

That damned collar.

The second his lips brushed against the smooth, foreign surface, everything changed. His tongue, which had just been lavishing heat and adoration across Riven’s skin, now met the icy reminder of another’s touch—another’s claim.

That leopard.

Ronan growled, a deep, primal rumble that vibrated through his chest and into Riven’s body. His teeth bared, not in lust now, but in fury.

That thing didn’t belong there. It wasn’t just obstructing his access—it was insulting. It sat over the scent glands like a mockery, preventing him from doing what instinct screamed for him to do.

So he did what any wolf would do when faced with something that didn’t belong on his mate.

He attacked.

With a snarl, Ronan’s teeth clamped onto the collar. He bit and tugged, muscles straining, trying to pull the damned thing free.

But how could he? It was crafted with care and possession in mind. Soren made sure the metal collar could not be opened by anyone other than him.

His jaw ached. The metal clasps dug into his gums. Still, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not until this last remnant of someone else’s presence was ripped from Riven’s neck.

But his efforts were halted—not by the collar—but by the soft, quivering voice of the one he loved most.

"It... hurts when you do that, Ronan."

Riven’s voice was like water on fire, soft but powerful enough to douse the rage burning inside him. Ronan froze. His teeth slackened, and he pulled back slowly, carefully. His eyes searched Riven’s face, now flushed and slightly pained, and guilt crashed into him like a wave.

"I’m sorry," he murmured immediately, his tone rough, strangled by regret.

Riven reached up slowly, fingers brushing over his neck where the collar had pressed too tight. There was a faint redness now, marks left not by the leopard but by Ronan himself.

"I just..." Ronan hesitated, looking down, fists clenching at his sides. "I hate it. That thing doesn’t belong on you. It’s a lie. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine."

The words left him raw, exposed. But he didn’t care.

Riven could not offer words of comfort, he did not belong to Ronan... It did not matter if they were mates, a part of him belonged to Soren, and it always would.

He stopped immediately. His jaws slackened, and his shoulders trembled faintly. The taste of metal lingered unpleasantly on his tongue, bitter and sharp. The warmth of Riven’s body was all around him—his chest, his arms, his legs still curled around his waist. But the cold air brushing over his skin reminded him of reality.

And that reality was cruel.

His mate, the one the moon had destined for him, wasn’t his alone. He had known this—agreed to it even. But now that the truth was pressing in from every direction, it hurt more than he thought it would. So much more. His heart clenched with a pain that bloomed deep and slow.

He thought he accepted it... But it seems like he did not. His mind had been on autopilot since he arrived at Soren’s mansion. There was only one goal, get Riven back. And now that he had time to think and contemplate... He did not know what to do.

Before he even realised what was happening, tears blurred his vision. They welled up and overflowed silently, trailing down his cheeks. As he leaned forward and buried his head into the crook of Riven’s neck, the tears followed gravity, slipping down and soaking into the sensitive skin of Riven’s nape.