Chapter 1:

There was nothing more terrifying than the look in the blonde's eye as she crossed the camp in her fur pelted boots and worn jacket. He watched the way her footsteps landed and then his eyes drifted upwards. Her strong legs were a welcoming sight—something he hoped to have wrapped around him by the end of the night—and the way her ass looked caused him to smirk.

Earth had done wonders for Clarke Griffin's figure and Bellamy Blake was captured by her unforeseen enticement. He played the victim role surprisingly well as she teased him with bewitching looks and sickeningly sweet caresses. But he would be pretending to be coy if he said that's where the line was drawn. There wasn't a line—because they'd crossed over a dangerous wall and they were in enemy territory every moment they spent in the hazardous area labeled Desire.

It wasn't like they didn't know it was wrong.

But maybe that's what they liked about it…how wrong it was and how good in felt.

The shame they carried every time they parted only added to the unsettling feeling each other's touches brought. He'd never understand how something could be sexy and bring on such self-disgust. He found himself walking around the camp, his mind replaying her moans and occasional screams like music. He would close his eyes and swear he was never going to let himself go like that again—he would say that he couldn't let himself go like that because he had to be strong and she was…

What was she?

Her hard slap across his face reminded him what she was—who she was. "You're a jackass, you know that?"

He grabbed her wrist as she prepared to slap him again, "No." If she'd seen the look in his eyes once, she'd seen it a hundred times. He wanted her. He was lusting for her and she had all the power in her hands. She stepped forward, her mouth parting as she smirked at him.

The anger she held in her subsided—she knew it would return, it always returned with the other emotions followed by what they did. She also knew it was sick how her mind went over battle strategies during these moments. She knew all of his weaknesses—her tongue carried the ammo necessary to obliterate his entire defense but she didn't make a move. She wasn't going to start the battle this time—she'd surrendered last time and she'd been damned if she ever did it again.

It was odd how the eyes could contain unspoken emotions. Her blue orbs burned holes into him with a fiery persistence he would never get used to. He checked his surroundings like a good soldier before pulling her into Camp Jaha's armory by her wrist. His grip wasn't soft—then again, she never liked it when he was easy with her like she was a child. She got enough of being treated like a child from her overbearing mother.

His hands swept across Raven's work station, knocking her papers and tools to the ground with a loud crash. Raven would kick both of their asses if she knew about it—but something in Bellamy's smugness told her that no one would ever know what really happened between them. She removed the jacket, tossing it on the ground as she stalked forward like a lioness. He was quick to follow her lead as she ridded herself of the meddlesome clothing. A low growl pushed through Bellamy's lips as he took her in—every curve, every dip, every scar was already saved to his memory (even if he wanted to erase it sometimes.)

There were things he knew about Clarke that no one else would ever know, things that could only be brought out in their type of relationship. They didn't love each other—sometimes, they didn't even like about each other. Hell, he knew there were times when he hated her…hated the way she made him feel, hated the way her voice sounded, the way she got under his skin… This relationship they hated to enjoy was based off of one unwanted thing—hunger. He craved her every hour of every day and he wanted it to stop—he begged it to stop.

He begged it to stop up until the point where he begged her to scream his name.

Clarke was a princess around here. He was far from royalty. She followed every rule. He knew just how to bend them. There days of being friendly leaders had passed and she'd rolled over and accepted it—he never could. He wanted to knock off the crown she despised on her head…wanted to walk away and never kiss her the way he was kissing her now.

Their friction could start fires in such a dangerous place but neither one cared about danger when they were stuck in the moment. He broke their kiss long enough to leave her wanting more and returned for seconds before repeating the process. She berated his actions with her hand—or her nails, more so. He felt the sting of her fingernails digging into the back of his neck as he picked up her body, throwing her carelessly on the table. He didn't give a damn about her pain.

He felt her moan into his mouth when he pushed his weight on her, the vibration keeping him steady as he pushed further down. Her hips bucked up into him as he slid between her legs, feeling the wetness she'd accumulated for him—only him. He was greedy about things such as that—because he'd made sure it was always only him. He couldn't threaten the people he worked with to stay away from her…no that would make people question the status of their relationship—it would give them hope for a reunited partnership that he couldn't agree to as long as she was Clarke Griffin and his was Bellamy Blake.

He grinded into her, eliciting multiple sounds from her and a few choice words. His arm rested on his elbow by her head as he made eye contact with her. It was sadistic how this got him off—her eyes changing from the eyes of a seductress, to the eyes of an innocent angel underneath him. Why did she do that? She always did that…

If she could control her eyes he wouldn't feel so guilty afterwards. Her eyes, much like her moans, wouldn't haunt him like they were out for his blood. He always knew she deserved better than this when she fixed her azure eyes on him like that. He cursed himself for caring about her. He didn't care about any other girl he'd ever slept with (not that he was sleeping with anyone but Clarke…she'd made sure she was the only one, too) so, why did he have to care about her?

Her eyes closed as she shook under him. He smiled into her neck as he kissed her affectionately before releasing into her. She eyed him for a second, "What are you waiting for—leave." She demanded coldly before he got off of her, throwing on his clothes and stealing one last glance at her. "I know. Last time."

He nodded knowing damn well it wasn't the last time. It was never the last time.

Clarke cleaned herself up but didn't clean the mess Bellamy made out of Raven's desk. That sick part of her that Bellamy brought out made her want to hear Raven's reaction. She wanted to see how angry she would get—wanted to see her struggle to figure out who did it before giving up and returning back into her workspace. She tightened her jacket around her body, zipping it up. She was glad there weren't mass amounts of mirrors in Camp Jaha—sometimes she felt as if she would punch every single one out if she could see how stupid she looked.

She had to put distance between her and Bellamy before she embarked on the reason she sought him out in the first place. He was being a jackass towards the council again and he was going to get himself exiled or killed if he kept it up. They weren't friends—not anymore, at least. Friends don't make friends feel completely out of control and sexy and desirable…at least, no friend Clarke had ever had before. They were more than friends, less than in love.

They were everything and absolutely nothing to each other.

It was as if they were cursed from the start. His eyes met hers and it was all over—the story should have ended there because that's the moment their lives started this downward spiral into present day. His lips met hers and for a brief second she believed they had a connection that there was something redeemable in herself but there was darkness—just darkness that Earth had casted on her. And then their hearts collided like two a-bombs—everything was destroyed and the second they detonated there were no survivors.

They would be the only causalities as long as they both kept their dirty little secret.

But—then again, only two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.