Chapter 42 Gifts and Gestures
Malia’s POV
A few days pass, and the campus finally exhales.
The whispers about the field fight fade into background noise. Security stops watching the Moonfall brothers like they’re live grenades. Classes resume their rhythm. Even July and Freddy stop texting me hourly updates on “the drama meter.”
But Aiden doesn’t fade.
If anything, he sharpens.
It starts small—small for him, anyway.
A sleek black box on my dorm desk when I get back from lecture. Inside: a cashmere sweater the color of midnight, so soft it feels illegal. The tag still dangles from the sleeve, price discreetly removed, but I know it’s more than my entire month’s food budget.
Then comes the jewelry.
A pair of diamond studs that catch light like trapped stars. A thin gold bracelet that looks delicate but weighs like a promise.
I stare at them on my bedspread, stomach tight.
I should be angry. I should tell him to stop. Instead, my fingers keep drifting back to the sweater, folding it, refolding it, pressing the fabric to my cheek when no one’s watching.
I’m uncomfortable.
I’m touched.
The contradiction lives under my ribs like a second heartbeat.
He texts me every morning.
Good morning, beautiful.
Wear the bracelet today?
Miss your voice.
I don’t always reply. When I do, it’s short.
Thank you.
It’s beautiful.
You don’t have to do this.
He never listens.
Friday afternoon he shows up outside my last class, leaning against the wall like he owns the hallway. Leather jacket. Dark jeans. That slow, dangerous smile that still makes my knees weak even when I’m trying to be mad.
“Get your coat,” he says. “We’re going shopping.”
I blink. “I have reading—”
“Later.” He pushes off the wall, already reaching for my bag. “Let me take care of you, Malia. Just once. Properly.”
There’s something in his voice—something raw beneath the velvet—that makes me hesitate.
I let him take the bag.
We end up in the kind of boutique I’ve only ever walked past. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Soft lighting. Salespeople who don’t blink at Aiden’s presence, who greet him by name. He’s clearly been here before.
He gestures toward the racks. “Whatever you want. Pick it out.”
I stand frozen between rows of silk and satin.
“I don’t need—”
“I know you don’t need.” His voice drops. “But I want to give it to you.”
There’s no arrogance in the words. Just quiet hunger. Like he’s starving for something money can’t buy, so he’s offering the next best thing.
I wander the store slowly. Fingers trailing over fabrics I’ve never touched before. A deep emerald dress catches my eye—sleeveless, fitted through the waist, flowing skirt. The kind of thing I’d never buy for myself.
Aiden appears at my shoulder like he was summoned.
“Try it,” he murmurs.
I glance at the price tag. My throat closes.
“Aiden—”
“Please.”
One word. Soft. Devastating.
I take the dress into the changing room.
The fabric slides over my skin like cool water. When I turn to zip the back, the zipper catches halfway. Before I can contort myself, the curtain parts and Aiden steps inside.
He doesn’t ask.
He just moves behind me.
His reflection fills the mirror—tall, dark, focused. His hands find the zipper. The metal teeth whisper upward, slow, deliberate. His knuckles graze my spine, vertebra by vertebra, leaving sparks.
The air charges instantly.
I can’t breathe right.
His fingers linger at the nape of my neck, tracing the line where skin meets hair. My pulse jumps under his touch.
“You look…” His voice is rough. “Like mine.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror.
Gold burns.
I swallow. “Aiden.”
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Say it again.”
“Aiden.”
He groans—low, quiet, almost pained. His hands settle on my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows above my hipbones. The dress suddenly feels too tight, too thin, like it’s barely there.
“I could take you right here,” he whispers. “Against this mirror. Let you watch.”
Heat floods my face, my chest, lower.
“But I won’t.” His mouth curves against my skin. “Not until you ask.”
He steps back.
The absence of him is colder than the AC.
He pays for the dress. For three others I didn’t even try on. For shoes I didn’t ask for. For a coat I touched once.
I don’t argue anymore.
I’m too tired. Too overwhelmed. Too aware of the way his gaze follows me like gravity.
Back at the suite, the lights are low.
Rowan and Cian are gone—somewhere. I don’t ask. I’m not sure I want to know.
Aiden closes the door behind us with a soft click.
He turns to face me, expression softer than I’ve seen in days.
“I have one more thing,” he says.
From his pocket he pulls a slim velvet box.
My heart stutters.
He opens it.
Inside: a delicate silver chain. Hanging from it, a small wolf pendant—sleek, stylized, unmistakably a predator. The eyes are tiny chips of amber.
He lifts it carefully.
“So everyone knows,” he says quietly.
Knows what?
That I’m his.
That he’s claimed me.
That the fight on the field wasn’t just rage—it was declaration.
He steps behind me again. The necklace settles against my collarbone, cool metal warming instantly. His fingers work the clasp with surprising gentleness. When it’s secure, he doesn’t move away.
Instead, he presses his lips to the bare skin of my shoulder.
Soft, reverent.
Then higher—my neck. The spot just below my ear that makes my breath hitch. He lingers there, inhaling like he’s memorizing me.
His mouth trails to my jaw.
When he reaches the corner of my lips, he pauses.
Waiting.
Giving me the choice.
I turn my head.
Our mouths meet. Slow and deliberate.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not careful.
It’s everything we’ve been holding back for days—hunger, apology, need, fear, all of it crashing together. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head so he can deepen the kiss. I taste salt and heat and the faint edge of something desperate.
He groans into my mouth.
I rise onto my toes, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For scaring you. For fighting. For everything.”
I touch the wolf at my throat.
“I know.”
His eyes search mine.
“Stay tonight?”
I hesitate.
The necklace feels heavier now. Not in weight. In meaning.
I think of Rowan’s quiet understanding. Cian’s steady regret. The way they both let me walk away without chains.
I think of Aiden’s hands shaking when he helped me pack.
I think of the way he just stood in that dressing room, burning, and still didn’t take.
I nod.
“Okay.”
His smile is small. Fragile. Like he’s afraid it’ll break if he lets it grow too big.
He kisses me again—slower this time.
Softer.
Like a promise he intends to keep.
The wolf pendant rests against my skin, cool and certain.
And for the first time in days, I don’t feel like I’m running.
I feel like I’m standing still. Slow.
Deliber
ate.st for tonight.
Just to see what happens when I stop.