Chapter 171 171

Chapter 171 171

Arielle's POV

Goodness.

Shouldn't I have looked away?

Hell yes, I wanted to! Every fiber of my being screamed at me to tear my gaze from his bare chest, to turn around, to do anything but stand there like a fool. But how could I?

My eyes were glued to him, tracing the lines of muscle, the hard planes of his torso, the way the dim light caught the edges of his form.

"Stay away," I stuttered, the words tumbling out like a pathetic plea. "Just—stay back."

But he kept coming closer. The tension between us was thick, electric, crackling in the air like a storm about to break. The way he looked at me—goodness, it was like he was devouring me with his eyes, like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. It was like if I made one tiny move, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

No, no, no.

I shook my head, blinking harder than I needed to, but I couldn't force my eyes away. "Listen, I'm wolfless, but I'm not weak. And I can—" I paused, shaking my head again. "Just don't take another step."

He took another step. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, as he felt my breath hitch against his chest.

"Step back," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I said—"

He tossed the shirt to me. It landed against my chest, and I caught it instinctively.

"You were about to walk out there in the cold, half-dressed," he said, his voice flat. "I'm giving you my shirt. I'm still a bit thoughtful, you know."

I blinked, my cheeks flushing. "That's... that's all?"

"What else did you think I was going to do?"

"No, I—"

He tilted his head, a suspicious glint in his eyes. "Did you think I was going to strip and perform for you? I do that free of charge for the women who warm my bed. I know you want such a service too."

"Ugh. No." I scoffed, clutching the shirt to my chest. "I didn't even think you wanted to do anything else."

"You didn't think," he said, his voice dropping, "but I swear you wanted to. Hence, you couldn't take your eyes away."

"I wasn't—" I started, but the words died in my throat. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, the embarrassment curling in my stomach. "That's not—"

He gave me a crooked smile, and my heart stuttered. I rolled my eyes, trying to mask the effect he had on me.

"Your top is ripped," he said, his voice returning to its usual flat tone. "You can change into that and go off into the woods to make your exit. Hopefully, Logan doesn't find you and continue from where he stopped."

I turned, looking at the door. The memory of what had happened earlier flooded back, and I felt a chill creep down my spine. I couldn't leave here without him. Logan was still out there, lurking with his minions, waiting for the slightest opportunity to strike.

I sighed, giving up on the idea of leaving. I looked around for a bathroom but saw none. What sort of a damn place doesn't have a bathroom?

As if he read my thoughts, he spoke up. "It's not a place to dwell for long. You should be lucky there's a roof over your head at such a time. This cabin is only safe for a night. I'm sure the person who set it up didn't have you in mind."

I looked at him, then at the shirt in my hands. "Can you... look away so I can change?"

"If you're trying to say in other words that I should turn around," he said, his voice flat, "I won't. Because nothing is appealing about you that I've not seen."

"You—" I groaned, my face burning. "You're insufferable."

He shrugged, looking unbothered. But the next moment, he turned to the window, saying nothing. I quickly stripped off my torn top and pulled on his shirt. It was huge on me, falling over my thighs, but it was warm and smelled like him.

When I buttoned it up, I said nothing. He turned back, glaring at me.

"You're welcome," he scoffed, looking away.

"I didn't say thank you."

He turned to face me fully, his eyes narrowing. "How were you foolish enough to come see Logan in the woods? Did he threaten you?"

I crossed my arms, the fabric of his shirt bunching around my wrists. "It's none of your business."

"Hell right." He pushed off the wall and walked past me, his shoulder brushing mine as he moved to lean against the opposite wall. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, the muscles flexing with the movement.

I tried to look anywhere else—at the cracked ceiling, the dusty floor, the grimy window—anywhere but at him. But my eyes kept betraying me, flicking back to the lines of his torso, the way the dim light traced the contours of his body.

"Stop staring," he said, his voice flat.

"I'm not staring." I turned my head sharply, fixing my gaze on the window. But I couldn't stop myself from stealing a glance at him the next second.

His expression shifted, something dark flickering in his eyes.

I walked over to him, my steps slow. "Are you injured?" I asked, my eyes catching blood dripping down his arm. I moved closer, inspecting the cut. It was deep, ugly, the claw marks telling a clear story.

He tried to pull his arm away. "It's a scratch."

I gripped his arm, not letting go, my scowl deepening. "It's not.”

He looked at me like an angry, stubborn kid, his jaw tight, his eyes hard. "It's not serious."

"Yeah, but it still would hurt, big wolf." I glared at him, my hands on my hips. I looked around the cabin, searching for anything that could help. A first aid box? A bandage? Anything. But the place was bare, stripped of anything useful.

He scoffed. "You're stupid if you think anyone left a first aid box in here."

"Yeah, you're so right, smarty." I rolled my eyes and walked over to where my torn top lay on the floor. I picked it up, returned to him, and pulled him down to sit on the edge of the bed. He resisted for a moment, but I pushed his shoulder until he relented.

I tore the fabric into a long strip, then wrapped it around the cut on his arm, tying it into a tight knot. He winced, a sharp intake of breath, and I feigned not to hear, muttering under my breath, "I thought it wasn't serious, big alpha."

He grunted. "I heard that, little wolf."

I finished tying the knot and sat back, looking at my work. "So I've taken care of it. I don't owe you for saving me earlier. We're equal."

"Is that so?" He looked irked, his eyes narrowing. But then his gaze dropped to my face, then lower, traveling down to my bare thighs. He swallowed hard and looked away.

I reluctantly sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, my legs brushing against the worn fabric. I could feel his glances, the way his eyes kept flicking to my thighs. I tugged on the hem of his shirt, pulling it down as if it would magically grow longer, but it barely covered me.

Another part of me wanted to feel him. I looked at his hand, strong and calloused, resting on his knee. I wanted it on me. I wanted to feel it on my skin.

He cleared his throat. "You should sleep. I'll keep watch all night."

I thought about his words, and before I could stop myself, I spoke out loud. "Keep watch all night... is that what you want to do?"

He looked at me. Our eyes locked. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I thought he was going to make a move. But then he looked away, his jaw tight.

That was right, yeah? But why did I feel disappointed? I couldn't understand it: the ache in my chest, the pull I felt toward him.

Then I heard him grunt. "Fuck it."

He turned too fast, grabbing my face with both hands, and kissed me. The kiss was intense, demanding, like he had been holding back for too long. I was awestruck, frozen for a moment, before something inside me snapped.

He broke the kiss, and I glared at him. "How dare you—" I started, but my voice died in my throat as my eyes lingered on his lips.