Destroyed in Love

by TheLastAirbenderFan19

Zuko wants, needs to capture the avatar. But he knows theres know way he can take him in a fight; instead he uses one of Aangs weaknessess. His friends. Katara. But what about when it's too painful for Zuko to keep Aang locked up, because of Katara. Because he's in love with Katara.

8. Chapter 8

Author's Note:

I'm so sorry, I had a family emergency, but everythings back to normal now. Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck with me, because this Avatar the Last Airbender does mean a lot to me.From now on I will probably update once a week.

Btw, this is not going to be a Zutara story, it is going to be a mix of Zutara and Kataang

Zuko's POV

We were here. At my home. At the fire Nation. After three years I was finally home, and I was hesitant. Why? Because I think I might be. . . just possibly. . . a little bit. . . in love with Katara. She was just so beautiful, and strong, and loyal. . . to the Avatar. That was the problem, she was the Avatars best friend, even girlfriend. So, she was my enemy.

"Prince Zuko!" calls the captain. "We have arrived at the Fire Nation! Wake your uncle!"

Once my uncle was woken up, I lingered outside Katara's door. Then I finally went in, and said, "We have arrived at the Fire Nation. Come with me."

"What are you going to do with Aang? What's going to happen to him?" she asks frantically, her blue eyes terrified. She looked so beautiful, even with the mess she was. "You're a monster. You're a bastard, a jerk without a soul who cares about know one but himself and if you hurt Aang—"

I cut her off my pressing my lips to hers. My hand run along her side, stopping to grasp the perfect curves of her hip. She is struggling beneath me, but she is so sexy I barely even notice. I press my lips harder against hers, and in the back of my mind I know I'm doing this against her will; she doesn't want me. But I need her.

A second later her shirt is off. My lips trail down from her mouth to her jaw to her collarbone. They trace the hem of her bra. It's only when my fingers desperately claw at her bra strap, trying to slide it off her shoulder, do I realize she's screaming, sobbing. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

"Please," she cries, "I'll do anything just please don't take this one thing from me."

Stunned, I trip away from her, and she yanks her shirt back on. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—I would never intentionally do that, I mean it—" I cut myself off. I had never been more disappointed in myself. "I'm so sorry, Katara."