Chapter 15 Jealousy Jealousy
Tasha POV:
The door closed behind me with a soft, final sound that felt heavier than it should have.
For a moment, I just stood there, my hand still hovering near the handle, my senses stretched thin and alert like I was waiting for something to attack me from the shadows. The house smelled warm. Clean. Human. A faint trace of coffee, wood polish, and something softer underneath it, something lived-in.
“You can leave your shoes there,” Neel said gently, nodding toward the mat by the door.
I looked down, suddenly aware of the dirt clinging to my boots, of how out of place I felt standing inside a space that wasn’t meant for monsters or resurrected things. I slipped them off without a word.
The living room opened up in front of me, wide windows covered by pale curtains, shelves lined with books and framed photos, a couch that looked like it had been slept on during long nights. Nothing about the place screamed danger. Nothing about it felt like a clinic or a hideout.
It felt like a home.
“You’ll be staying here for now,” Neel said, watching me carefully, as if gauging whether I’d bolt for the door again. “At least until you’re stable enough to decide what you want to do next.”
“I don’t want to be a problem,” I said quietly.
“You’re not.”
I laughed under my breath, the sound hollow. “You keep saying that like it’s true.”
He didn’t argue. He just turned and motioned for me to follow him down the hallway. The floor creaked softly beneath our steps.
“This room’s yours,” he said, opening a door at the end. “Bathroom’s across the hall. You can lock the door if it makes you feel safer.”
The room was simple. A bed with clean sheets. A small desk. A window that looked out into the trees behind the house. Moonlight slipped through the glass and painted pale shapes on the floor.
I swallowed. My chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with magic.
“Thank you,” I said.
Neel hesitated, then added, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the study. And… Tasha?”
“Yes?”
“You’re safe here.”
Safe.
The word echoed long after he left me alone.
That night, sleep came in fragments. I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the house, feeling the strange pull in my chest whenever Neel moved somewhere beyond the walls. My wolf stirred, restless, curious, pressing against my thoughts like a living thing.
Mine, it whispered.
I shut my eyes harder.
By morning, hunger clawed its way through me with sharp insistence.
When I stepped into the kitchen, Neel was already there, sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly damp like he’d just showered. He froze for a second when he saw me, then smiled, easy and warm.
“Morning,” he said. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
He gestured toward the table. “Sit. I made eggs.”
I sat, watching him move around the kitchen like he belonged there, like this was his natural world. When he placed the plate in front of me, the smell hit me wrong. Too cooked. Too tame.
My stomach twisted.
“I need… something else,” I said slowly.
His brows pulled together. “Something else how?”
“Raw.”
The word hung between us.
Neel didn’t flinch. He just nodded once, turned to the fridge, and pulled out a sealed container of meat. When he set it in front of me, his expression was carefully neutral.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning more than the food.
We ate in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet in a way that felt cautious, like two people learning how close they were allowed to stand without getting burned.
“You don’t have to pretend here,” he said suddenly.
I looked up. “Pretend what?”
“That you’re fine.”
I held his gaze for a second too long, then looked away.
“I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Before he could respond, the sound of a key turning in the lock cut through the room.
My body reacted before my mind did. My muscles tensed, magic curling under my skin, my senses locking onto the newcomer.
The door opened.
“Neel?” a woman’s voice called out. “I’m back.”
She stepped inside, tall and soft-spoken, her coat draped over one arm, dark hair pulled back loosely. Her eyes landed on me, curious but not alarmed.
“Oh,” she said, smiling. “You must be the guest.”
Guest.
Neel cleared his throat. “Tasha, this is Tara. My fiancée.”
The word hit me like a blade slipping between my ribs.
Fiancée.
I felt my wolf snarl, low and furious, jealousy flaring hot and sharp before I could stop it. I forced my face to stay calm, my lips to curve into something polite.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
Tara stepped closer, offering her hand. “You too. Welcome home.”
Home.
I shook her hand, carefully, masking everything I felt. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t hesitate.
Over the next hour, she moved around the house like sunlight, asking me questions, offering tea, talking easily about her work. She didn’t look at me like a threat. She didn’t look at me like competition.
That somehow made it worse.
When we finally sat together on the couch, Tara laughed softly. “Neel has a habit of bringing people home,” she said. “Lost people. Hurt people. It’s how we met, actually.”
My heart stuttered. “How?”
She smiled, glancing at him. “I came in with a concussion and left with a job offer and dinner.”
Neel rolled his eyes. “That’s not—”
“It is,” she said, nudging him. “You can’t help yourself.”
Something cold settled in my chest.
So I wasn’t special.
Just another broken thing he decided to fix.
As Tara talked, I nodded and smiled and listened, but inside, my thoughts darkened and twisted. My wolf pressed closer, possessive and angry.
I watched the way she touched him without thinking. The way he leaned toward her without realizing it.
I told myself I didn’t care.
But the thought crept in anyway, sharp and dangerous.
I don’t want her here.
And the worst part was how easily that thought felt like truth.