Chapter 73
Elena's POV
Evening
Caleb had been locked in his study for hours, supposedly handling "company business." I knew better. He was avoiding me. And honestly? I was avoiding him too.
I needed a shower. I needed to wash off the lingering anxiety, the confusion, the phantom heat of his hands on my waist. I grabbed the blue loungewear and headed to the bathroom.
The hot water felt like heaven. I stood under the spray until my skin turned pink, letting the steam fill my lungs. My mind drifted, unwanted, to a memory from years ago.
I must've been nine. Maybe ten. Damon had run away from Blackwood Manor after some fight with his mother. The whole Vance family had mobilized—search parties, phone calls, Randy barking orders like it was a military operation. They'd found him six hours later, sulking in a treehouse three blocks away.
I remembered thinking, They'd tear the city apart for him.
Now, standing alone in Caleb's guest bathroom, I couldn't help but wonder: If I disappeared, who would look for me?
Father would be furious. Mother would worry, maybe. Damon was at the hospital with Scarlett, probably not thinking about me at all.
And Caleb...
I didn't let myself finish that thought.
When I finally turned off the water and stepped out, I reached for the blue loungewear. The fabric was soft, the fit comfortable. I pulled on the pants first, then the top.
And froze.
The shirt was missing three buttons. Right at the chest. The neckline gaped open, revealing way more skin than I was comfortable with.
"Lila," I muttered, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "You did this on purpose."
My old clothes were soaked from the steam, unwearable. And I sure as hell wasn't putting on the purple nightmare.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my shoulders, holding the edges closed over my chest. Then I cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out.
The hallway was silent. The living room lights were off. Caleb's study door was still closed.
Okay. Just make a run for it. Quick and quiet.
I took a breath. Stepped into the hall. Moved as fast as I could toward the guest room.
I pushed open the door, slipped inside, turned to close it—
And nearly screamed.
Caleb was standing right there. In my room. Beside the bed.
We both froze.
His eyes locked onto mine for half a second before dropping—just for an instant—to the gap in my shirt. The towel had slipped when I'd reached for the door.
The air went thick.
I yanked the towel back up, clutching it against my chest. "What are you doing in here?"
His gaze snapped back to my face. His jaw was tight. "I came to remind you to take your medication."
"Oh." My voice came out too high. Too breathless. "I—this isn't—the buttons are missing, I didn't—"
"It's fine." His voice was rough. Strained. He turned his head away, staring very hard at the wall. "Just... take your meds. Get some rest."
But he didn't move.
And neither did I.
I could feel it—the shift in the air. The way his breathing had gone shallow. The faint, woody scent of his pheromones thickening around me, making my pulse race.
For a split second, his eyes flashed gold.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I didn't know if I was scared or if it was something else entirely.
"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I know this looks—I'm not trying to—"
"I know." He cut me off, voice tight. "Just... lock the door after I leave."
He walked past me, movements stiff and controlled. The door clicked shut behind him.
Hard.
I stood there, frozen, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.
---
Caleb's POV
I made it back to my study. Barely.
I sat down in the chair and gripped the armrests until my knuckles went white. My eyes dropped, unwillingly, to the front of my pants.
Fuck.
I was hard. Painfully hard. Just from thirty seconds of seeing her in that goddamn shirt with her wet hair and her flushed skin and those wide, startled eyes.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and forced myself to breathe.
She didn't mean it. She wasn't trying to—
It didn't matter. My body didn't care about intent.
I stood up, yanked off my shirt, and headed for the bathroom. Turned the shower to its coldest setting and stepped under the spray.
The icy water hit my skin like a thousand needles. I hissed through my teeth and braced my hands against the tile, letting it pour over me.
It didn't help.
---
Later—much later—I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing myself not to think about her.
It was useless.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. The damp strands of hair clinging to her neck. The curve of her collarbone. The gap in that shirt, showing just enough skin to drive me insane.
And then I wasn't in my room anymore.
I was dreaming.
She walks toward me wearing purple silk. The fabric clings to every curve, the neckline plunging low, the hem barely covering her thighs.
Her scent fills the room, absolutely intoxicating.
She climbs onto my lap, her hands sliding up my chest. "Caleb," she whispers, her voice soft and breathless.
I grip her hips, pull her closer. She gasps, arching into me.
I rip the flimsy fabric away. She doesn't stop me. She moans, low and needy, as I lay her back on the bed.
She's soft. Pliant. Perfect.
My wolf surges forward. I feel my canines extend, my vision going gold-edged. I press my mouth to the curve of her neck, right where it meets her shoulder.
And I bite down.
I woke up gasping, my body tight and aching, my sheets twisted around me.
The room was dark. Silent.