Chapter 2
Elena' POV
I stood there until my feet went numb.
Reason kept screaming in my head, telling me to move, find shelter, do anything except stand here watching red taillights disappear into the endless white.
When the cold finally penetrated deep enough into my bones to hurt, I forced myself to turn away. My fingertips had turned purple. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and started walking.
I needed to think. I needed to understand what had just happened, how many years I'd been lying to myself.
Damon Vance. The golden boy. The future Alpha. My supposed destiny.
Except he was never mine, was he? Never had been.
Images flashed through my mind—him racing on his motorcycle, eyes wild with adrenaline, throwing around massive bets he'd never care about losing. Damon at the Neon Den, surrounded by women in tight dresses, his hand resting on someone's lower back, his smile lazy and confident.
And then I thought of myself. Waiting. Always waiting.
My wolf—that distant, hazy thing I'd never truly reached—stirred somewhere deep in my chest. Not with excitement. Not with anticipation. Just... tired.
You never wanted him, I realized. I forced you to want him.
The wind picked up. I pulled my coat tighter, but it was useless. My core temperature was already dropping—I could feel it, my thoughts slowing, the edges of my vision starting to blur. Normal people didn't get hypothermic this fast. Normal wolves even less so.
But I wasn't normal. I was defective.
I stumbled forward, one step after another. The dorm was probably already locked this late. I tried to remember where the nearest hotel was.
---
The first place I tried was the Riverside Inn. Small, clean, usually had vacancies.
Not tonight.
"Sorry, miss." The clerk didn't look up from her computer. "Blizzard's got everyone stranded. We're completely booked."
I nodded and left before my face could show how badly I wanted to cry.
The second hotel was bigger. Fancier. A doorman in a thick coat looked me over as I approached, his nose twitching slightly. Wolf. He could smell what I was.
Inside, the lobby was warm and bright, filled with the scent of expensive cologne and old leather. I approached the front desk, teeth chattering.
"Do you have any rooms available?"
The man behind the counter looked at me. Really looked. His gaze traveled down, then back up, lingering just a beat too long. His nostrils flared.
"Hmm." He leaned forward, elbows on the marble counter. "Technically, we're full. But..." His smile widened. "I might be able to make an exception. For the right... incentive."
The way he said it made my skin crawl.
I backed away. "No thanks."
"Hey, don't be like that—"
I was already running.
---
The blizzard was getting worse.
I couldn't feel my feet anymore. Couldn't feel my hands. My heart rate had slowed—danger sign, some distant corner of my brain warned—and my breathing had become shallow and labored.
I need to find somewhere. Anywhere.
But every building I passed was dark, locked, closed. The streets were empty except for the snow, falling so thick I could barely see three feet ahead.
My vision doubled. Tripled.
Bad. This is bad.
I took another step, and my knee buckled.
The ground rushed up to meet me.
I braced for impact—
—and someone caught me.
Strong hands gripped my waist, my shoulder, steadying me effortlessly. The heat radiating from that touch was so intense it almost felt like burning after the numbing cold.
And the scent.
Ice. Cedar. Tobacco.
My wolf reacted.
Not the faint, distant tremor I was used to. This was instinctive. A full-body shudder that started at my spine and radiated outward, making my breath catch, my heart suddenly pounding hard enough to hurt.
What—
I looked up.
Caleb Vance.
I stopped breathing.
He was staring down at me, those brown eyes that sometimes flashed gold when he was angry or upset. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping near his temple. The silver scar on his neck was partially visible above the shirt collar.
He looked tense. Wound up. Like he was holding himself back from something.
"Caleb," I breathed. My brain wasn't working right. I should say something else, something appropriate. Mr. Vance. We weren't supposed to be familiar. He was Damon's half-brother, the family disgrace, the bastard everyone pretended didn't exist, a half-breed wolf.
But I was too cold, too tired, too fucking done with pretending.
"What are you doing here? Negative fifteen degrees and you're dressed like you're going for a spring walk."
"I was—" My tongue felt thick. "The enforcement office. Had to bail out Damon. He got in a fight."
Something flickered across Caleb's face. Too fast to read.
"And he just left you out here?" His voice went flat. Dangerous. "In a blizzard."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
Caleb made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl. Then he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I made a shocked noise, hands grabbing onto his coat.
"What are you—"
"You're hypothermic." He was already moving, carrying me down the sidewalk toward a sleek black car idling at the curb. "We can argue about it later."
---
Caleb kicked the passenger door open one-handed, deposited me into the seat like I was made of glass, then slammed it shut. Heat blasted from the vents, so intense I almost cried.
He slid into the driver's seat, movements precise and controlled. For a moment he just sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white.
Then he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over me.
The coat was huge, heavy, lined with something soft. And it smelled like him—ice and cedar and tobacco, sharp and clean and somehow safe.
I pulled it tighter around myself, breathing it in before I could stop myself.
Caleb's hands tightened on the wheel. He didn't look at me.
He pulled into traffic, and then we were leaving downtown, heading toward the city's outskirts. Buildings became sparse, trees grew thick. About ten minutes later, Caleb spoke again.
"I have a property in the Blackwood district. Independent manor, plenty of guest rooms. You can stay there tonight."
I jerked upright. "Blackwood? That's Vance territory."
"It's on the edge. Ten miles from the main estate. Damon won't know." He paused. "The manor's mine."
"I can't," I said softly. "It's not appropriate. If someone found out—"
"You'd rather freeze to death than risk impropriety?" He cut me off, voice hard. "Very noble. Also incredibly stupid."
"Caleb—"
"Look at yourself, Elena." He still wouldn't look at me. "You're shaking so hard you can barely talk. Your lips are blue. If I drop you somewhere else, you'll end up in the emergency room by morning." Finally, he glanced over.
I pulled his coat tighter. "Okay. Thank you."
He didn't respond. Just drove.