Chapter 20
Clara sank into a chair behind the counter, still trembling, hands pressed to her face. Her lips tingled from the kiss, heat pooling low in her belly, her pulse racing like it might burst free from her chest.
She couldn’t believe it. That had just happened. That he had kissed her—the man who had haunted her thoughts, stood guard outside her house, and protected her with a ferocity she had never seen before.
Her mind spun with questions, doubts, and the undeniable ache of longing. And yet, beneath the whirlwind of sensation, a thread of fear clung tightly to her.
Rowan was dangerous. She knew that, in ways she hadn’t fully admitted even to herself. The wolf inside him was strong, Alpha-strong, and he could snap, claim, or protect with brutal efficiency. And somewhere, deep in that intensity, there was a part of her that wanted him to.
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Rowan stood just a step away, voice low, controlled, though his jaw clenched, and his fists flexed at his sides. The wolf beneath his skin snarled and twisted, furious and impatient. She’s ours. Claim her. Now.
He fought it, forcing his breath to steady. He couldn’t let the wolf take over—not yet. She wasn’t ready. She had to choose him freely, even if the desire to press her against him, to mark her, to claim her completely, burned every fiber of his being.
The scent of her, sweet and irresistible, lingered in the air around him, making restraint nearly impossible. Every inch he closed toward her sent heat pooling low in his belly, every brush of her hair against his fingers made the wolf growl in hunger and frustration.
“Clara,” he murmured, voice rough, filled with unspoken need. “I—”
He stopped himself, forcing the words back, letting patience win over instinct. Forcing control over the fire that threatened to consume him.
Her gaze lifted toward him, wide and uncertain, and Rowan’s chest tightened. Every protective instinct, every claim of possession, surged and battled with the Alpha’s need for careful restraint. He wanted to draw her into his arms again, to show her—feel her—that she was his, even if only for this moment.
But he didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, he let the tension hang, thick and electric, a silent promise that this wasn’t over. That every brush, every lingering glance, every heartbeat would pull them closer until neither could resist.
Clara’s lips parted slightly, her hands still pressed to her face. She could feel it too—the pull, the unrelenting force between them. Fear and desire coiled together, dangerous and exquisite. Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering, and she knew, deep in her bones, that the next time he touched her, she might not be able to stop herself from giving in completely.
And Rowan knew it too.
The wolf growled low in his chest, restrained but aching, promising that when the time came, neither of them would be able to resist.