Beneath the surface || Wenclair

Chapter 12: Fractured restraint

Wednesday Addams felt her carefully constructed world beginning to unravel, and she despised every second of it. Enid Sinclair's relentless pursuit was a maddening experiment she never agreed to, yet here she was, caught in the crosshairs of her own making.

The memory of Xavier's insipid suggestion echoed in her mind: "Kiss her, it's a perfect way to test the waters." At the time, it had seemed like an innocent idea—a chance to understand the inexplicable connection she felt with Enid. But now, as she recalled the reckless decision to engage in that kiss at the party, she could hardly believe she had let it lead to more. How had she allowed herself to sleep with Enid? It felt like a betrayal of her own stoic nature and dislike of touch.

Every encounter since had only deepened her confusion and trying to avoid her had became useless. One evening, after a long day of grappling with her emotions, Wednesday emerged from the shower, steam enveloping her like a shroud. She assumed Enid was gone, off somewhere with her friends, and she felt a momentary relief wash over her. But just as she pulled on her pajamas, arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a warm body.

"Surprise!" Enid exclaimed, her breath warm against Wednesday's ear. Though she couldn't see Enid's face, she could feel the smile radiating from her.

Instinctively, Wednesday's fingers itched for the knife she kept tucked under her pillow. But she hadn't brought it with her into the bathroom, and now Enid was dangerously close. "Get off me," she demanded, but the words felt weak.

Instead of heeding her, Enid tightened her grip and leaned in, whispering gently near her ear, "I just needed to collect more data," before pulling away and sprinting out of the room, laughter trailing behind her.

Wednesday stood there, stunned, her heart racing. The warmth of Enid's body lingered in her mind, a reminder of how easily her control slipped away. How had it come to this? Each encounter with Enid felt like a test she hadn't signed up for, and yet she found herself drawn to the chaos.

A couple days later, she sought refuge in the library, her sanctuary, needing silence to think. But as she turned a corner, she found Enid leaning casually against a shelf, a bright smile on her face. Wednesday's heart sank. How had she not sensed her approach? Was the supposed curse affecting her senses?

"Gotcha!" Enid exclaimed, and Wednesday felt the familiar mix of annoyance and thrill.

"Stay back," Wednesday warned, her voice low, fingers inching toward her boot where she started keeping a blade since the bedroom incident.

As Wednesday raised the blade, prepared to strike the werewolf for cornering her again, a firm hand caught her wrist in mid-air, effortlessly holding the blade above their heads. Before she could react, Enid's other hand slid around Wednesday's waist, pulling her flush against her body and backing her into the bookshelf with a quiet thud. The heat between them was palpable, much to Wednesdays dislike. But the way the wolf's strength held her back was addicting, as if she could rip her apart any second leading her to an enjoyable death.

Enid leaned in, her breath grazing Wednesday's neck. "Just checking in on my favorite subject," she whispered, her voice a teasing purr, fingers tightening at her waist. A shudder left her lips from such action.

Enid smirked knowingly and raised her head to pull her into a kiss.

Fury and confusion swirled within her. The kiss ignited something deep inside, but she fought against the rising tide of warmth and desire. The electric pull of their bodies sent a thrill through Wednesday, and for a fleeting moment, she was tempted to lean into it. But before she could think better of it, Enid broke the contact, leaving Wednesday breathless, heart pounding, and utterly bewildered.