Chapter 18
Caleb's POV
I pulled her up from the booth, coat in hand. She needed to leave. Now. Before I did something I couldn't take back.
"Let's go." I tried to drape the coat over her shoulders.
She shoved it away. "Too hot." Her words slurred together. "Don't want it."
The whiskey-soaked sweater clung to her skin. Every curve visible. Her scent—gardenias, sweet milk, and alcohol—flooded the small space, drowning me.
My wolf roared. Mark her.
"Elena." I forced the coat around her again, voice rougher than I meant. "You're not safe like this. Listen to me."
She swayed against me. I caught her wrist, steadying her.
Then I made the mistake of looking down.
Red marks bloomed on her pale skin where my fingers had been.
The wolf snarled. I shoved it down, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.
"Let's go." I half-dragged her toward the exit, keeping her close.
Elena stumbled. I caught her around the waist, pulling her against my side as we entered the back corridor. Quieter here. But her scent still wrapped around me like a fist.
"Hurts," she mumbled, looking at her wrist. "Why'd you grab so hard?"
Guilt stabbed through me. I loosened my grip but didn't let go. "Stop fighting me and it won't hurt."
A lie. I was the one hurting her. I was always the one hurting people.
The restroom door ahead opened. A man in a leather jacket stepped out. His eyes went straight to Elena—to the outline of her body through the soaked sweater.
His nostrils flared. He took a step toward us.
I moved without thinking. Pulled Elena into my chest, blocking his view with my body. My eyes met his. Gold. Fully gold now.
I said quietly. "Now."
He saw the warning. Saw what I was. He left.
Elena's face pressed against my shirt. She was shaking.
"Cold?" I asked, voice barely human anymore.
"No." Her arms wrapped around my waist. Tight. Like a drowning person clutching air. "Just... it's been so long since anyone held me like this."
Something in my chest cracked.
"Mom and Dad always fight," she whispered into my shirt. "Father never has time. When I try to hug him, he pushes me away. Says he's tired. Says not to bother him." Her voice broke. "I just wanted someone to hold me. That's all I wanted."
My hands moved on their own. One settling on her back, the other in her hair. Gentle. So gentle it hurt.
"I'm here," I managed. Didn't recognize my own voice.
She burrowed closer. Her nose traced along my collarbone, warm breath against my throat.
My fangs punched down. I tasted blood as they cut my lower lip.
I could feel it trying to break free from my restraint.
I gripped her shoulders, hands shaking with the effort of not pulling her closer. Of not giving in.
"Elena." Barely got her name out. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing."
"Don't care." She nuzzled against my neck.
I was going to lose it. Going to snap. Going to—
She lurched away from me. Swayed. Hand over her mouth.
Then she vomited all over my shirt.
I stood frozen for three seconds. Looked down at the mess. Back at her tear-filled eyes.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I—"
"It's fine." The words came out flat. I was too strung out to feel anything but relief. This had stopped me from doing something unforgivable.
I guided her to the restroom. Helped her rinse her mouth, wash her face.
My shirt was ruined. I peeled it off, tossed it in the trash.
Elena's eyes went wide when she saw my bare chest. Her face flushed red even through the alcohol haze.
"Stop staring." I grabbed my coat from where it had fallen, shrugged it on. "We're leaving."
Outside, the rideshare was already waiting. I'd called it while she was in the bathroom.
I should take her back to her dorm. That was the right thing to do.
But she was still leaking pheromones. Still vulnerable. Still drunk.
If anyone else caught her scent. They would try something.
I made a decision.
She didn't argue. Just let me guide her into the car, head resting against my shoulder.
The drive to my estate took twenty minutes. She dozed most of the way. I kept one hand on her shoulder. Grounding. For her or for me, I didn't know.
When we arrived, I carried her inside. She was half-asleep, mumbling something I couldn't catch.
I took her to the guest room. The one I'd prepared months ago. The one with suitable clothes and toiletries she'd like.
"Shower," I told her, setting her on the couch. "Guest bathroom is through there. There's clothes in the closet."
She blinked at me. "Where are you going?"
"Outside for a smoke."
I left before I could do something stupid. Like stay. Like help her undress. Like follow my wolf's insistence that she belonged in my bed, not the guest room.
I lit a cigar outside, letting my mind settle.
Twenty minutes later, I came back inside. Checked the guest room.
Empty.
My heart stopped. The bathroom door was open. No one inside.
Then I caught her scent. Stronger now. Coming from my bedroom.
I walked down the hall. Pushed my door open carefully.
Elena was curled up in my bed. On top of the covers, still in her original clothes. One hand tucked under the pillow. The other clutching the edge of the blanket.
She looked small. Fragile. Silver-white strands of her natural hair color showed at the roots where her dye was growing out, catching the lamplight.
I leaned against the doorframe. Couldn't look away.
Her breathing was soft. Even. Peaceful.
I should wake her. Move her back to the guest room. But I only pulled the blanket over her gently. So gently.
My fingers brushed her cheek. Ice-cold skin.
"Sleep well," I whispered.
Then I forced myself to leave. Closed the door. Stood in the hallway with my forehead against the wall.
One night. I could survive one night with her in my bed and me not in it.
I went to the guest room. Took the world's coldest shower in the bathroom.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked to the closet. The moment I opened the closet door, an old box in the corner caught my attention.
Memories from the past surfaced in my mind again.
Everything around was darkness. Only a crystal ball.