Chapter 235

Chapter 235
Elsa

His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, drawing responses from my body that I couldn't control. We tumbled from the bed to the floor with a heavy thud, caught in a tangle of sheets and limbs. The carpet scraped against my back like sandpaper, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the overwhelming sensation of Drake's weight pressing me down, his fever-hot skin against mine.

"Still want me to sleep on the floor?" he taunted, his voice rough with desire as his hips pinned me in place.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed, digging my nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent marks. My anger and desire twisted together until I couldn't tell them apart.

He laughed, a dark sound that vibrated through his chest. "That's my girl."

What followed was nothing like the careful lovemaking we'd shared in the past. This was raw, almost animal in its intensity. Drake was relentless, driving both of us toward release with single-minded determination. My anger and his fever fueled something primal between us, something that transcended the complications of our relationship. I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming as waves of pleasure crashed through me.

When it was over, we somehow made it back to the bed. Drake collapsed beside me, his breathing gradually slowing as he pulled me against his chest with possessive arms. I could feel his heartbeat, still racing but steadier now, and the heat of his skin seemed less feverish.

"Better," he mumbled against my hair before falling into what appeared to be a deep sleep.

I lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell I was doing. My body felt both satisfied and sore, my emotions a jumbled mess of resentment and need. I'm so fucked up, I thought miserably as exhaustion finally claimed me too.

---

Hours later, I woke to the uncomfortable pinch of hunger clawing at my stomach like a trapped animal. I hadn't eaten properly in days, and my body was screaming in protest. Carefully extricating myself from Drake's arms, I sat up and checked his condition, pressing my palm to his forehead. He was still flushed, his skin hot to the touch like a damn furnace.

"Drake," I said, gently shaking his shoulder, anxiety creeping into my voice. "You need to see a doctor. Your fever hasn't broken."

He groaned, opening one eye to glare at me with surprising intensity for someone so ill. "I don't need a fucking doctor. It's just a cold."

"It's not just a cold if your temperature's been this high for this long," I argued, my fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of the sheet. "Let me call someone."

"No." His tone left no room for argument. "Just find some fever reducers in the bathroom cabinet. I'll be fine."

Sighing in frustration, I dragged myself out of bed, muscles protesting with every movement. I did as he asked, returning with two pills and a glass of water. I watched him swallow them before heading to the shower, desperate to wash away the sweat and evidence of our encounter. By the time I emerged, wrapped in a hotel robe with my hair dripping cold trails down my neck, Drake was sitting up in bed, looking marginally more alert.

"You should eat something," he said, eyeing me critically. "You've lost weight."

"I'm aware," I replied dryly, tightening the robe around my waist. "I was about to head down to the restaurant."

"Good. Bring something back for me too." He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes briefly. "Something bland. Soup, maybe."

I was halfway to the door, fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle, when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but answered anyway, my stomach knotting with apprehension.

"Ms. Hale? This is Joseph." The voice was cool, professional. "I'm calling to inform you that you're expected back at work tomorrow. We have some important matters that require your attention."

"I see," I said carefully, watching Drake from the corner of my eye. He had gone still, listening with that predatory focus that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"Also, the Watsons will be contacting you this afternoon. You are to meet with them." It wasn't a request.

"Why would I—"

"It would be in your best interest to hear what they have to say," Joseph interrupted, his tone making it clear this wasn't optional. "If you agree to their terms, I'm authorized to offer you a twenty percent raise next year."

My stomach dropped like a stone. I gripped the phone tighter, knuckles turning white. So that was it—Joseph had been bought by the Watsons. But what had they promised him in return? My lips curled in disgust.

"I'll consider it," I said stiffly, teeth clenched. "Thank you for letting me know."

I hung up, feeling sick for reasons that had nothing to do with hunger. Drake was watching me intently, his eyes following my every nervous movement.

"The Watsons?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Apparently they want to meet with me again," I said, running a hand through my damp hair, tugging at the tangles in frustration. "And Joseph Moonlight is very eager for me to agree to whatever they're offering."

"Joseph is a ladder-climbing little shit," Drake said dismissively. "What did he promise you?"

"A raise," I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "As if that would be enough to make me sell my soul."

I turned away, suddenly envious of wolves like Vera who had the protection of powerful families. Even ordinary wolves had their packs to back them up. But an omega without connections? We were always vulnerable, always one misstep away from disaster. Always somebody's fucking pawn.

"I need to eat something," I said, changing the subject, my voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I'll have the front desk send up some soup for you."

At the restaurant downstairs, I couldn't muster the appetite I'd felt earlier. I sipped at a glass of milk, my thoughts churning with suspicions about what the Watsons might want and what Joseph might gain from acting as their messenger. My fingers drummed an agitated rhythm against the table.

After arranging for a tray to be sent to our room—clear broth, plain toast, and herbal tea—I headed for the exit, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.