Chapter 22 CHAPTER 23

Chapter 22 CHAPTER 23
Bronte's POV

Sebastian steps inside and I close the door behind him, turning the lock without thinking about it.

He's dripping water all over my floor but neither of us moves to do anything about it.

"You're soaked," I say.

"I know."

"Alexander sent you away."

"I know that too."

"So why are you back?"

He runs his hand through his wet hair. "Because I made it three hours into border patrol before I turned around and came back."

"Three hours?"

"I tried, Bronte. I really tried." He takes a step closer. "I told myself it was for the best, that staying away was the right thing to do, that Alexander was right to send me."

"And?"

"And I couldn't do it."

We stand there in my room, water pooling around his feet, and I know I should tell him to leave, should send him away before someone finds us, should do anything except what I'm doing which is nothing.

"You're going to get in trouble," I say. "If Alexander finds out you came back early—"

"I don't care."

"You should care. He's your brother."

"I know he's my brother!" His voice rises slightly before he catches himself and lowers it again. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that's all I've been thinking about for the past three hours walking through the rain?"

"Then why did you come back?"

"You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I can't."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true." He moves to the window, putting distance between us. "If I say it out loud then it's real and if it's real then I have to make a choice and I don't know how to choose between my brother and—"

He stops.

"And what?" I ask quietly.

He doesn't answer.

I cross the room to stand beside him at the window. Outside, the rain is coming down harder now, turning everything into grey water and shadows.

"Alexander knows something is wrong," I say.

"I know. That's why he sent me away."

"He kept me by his side all day. Wouldn't let me out of his sight."

"He's trying to fix it."

"Fix what?"

"Whatever he thinks is broken." Sebastian turns to look at me. "He doesn't know what exactly, but he knows something isn't right."

"And what do we do about that?"

"I don't know."

"That's all you ever say. I don't know, I can't, I shouldn't." I shake my head. "But you keep coming back anyway."

"I know."

"So what do you want from me, Sebastian? What are we doing here?"

He looks at me and the expression on his face is so raw it makes my chest hurt.

"I don't know what I want," he says quietly. "Except that every time I try to stay away from you, I can't breathe properly until I'm near you again."

The words hang between us.

"You can't say things like that," I whisper.

"I know."

"You can't stand in my room dripping wet in the middle of the night and tell me you can't breathe without me."

"I know that too."

"Then why did you?"

"Because you asked me to stop saying I don't know." He takes a step closer. "So I'm telling you what I do know. I know that you're all I think about. I know that leaving you those books wasn't enough. I know that three hours of border patrol felt like three days because you weren't there."

"Sebastian—"

"I know that my brother is the luckiest man alive and he doesn't even realize it." Another step closer. "And I know that makes me the worst person in the world for standing here saying these things to you."

We're too close now, close enough that I can feel the cold coming off his wet clothes, close enough to see water still dripping from his hair.

"You need to go," I say, but I don't move.

"I know."

"If someone finds you here—"

"I know."

"Then why aren't you leaving?"

"You know why."

And I do know. I know exactly why he's not leaving, why neither of us is moving, why the air between us feels too thin to breathe.

"We can't do this," I whisper.

"I know."

"Alexander is your brother."

"I know."

"And I'm supposed to be his mate."

"I know that too."

"Then why are we still standing here?"

He doesn't answer.

We're so close now I can see the water droplets on his eyelashes, can hear his breathing, can feel the heat despite the cold rain that's soaked through his clothes.

"Bronte," he says, and my name sounds different in his voice, rougher, like it costs him something to say it.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it means something."

"It does mean something." He reaches up slowly, so slowly, and brushes a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers are cold from the rain. "It means everything."

I close my eyes because looking at him right now is too much.

"Sebastian, we can't—"

"I know."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

"I can't."

"Try."

"I've been trying for weeks." His hand is still by my face, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel it there. "It's not working."

I open my eyes and he's looking at me the way he did in the library, the way he did at the rehearsal, the way he's been looking at me since I arrived at this pack house and didn't know what it meant until now.

"If we do this—" I start.

"We can't."

"I know, but if we did—"

"Everything changes."

"There's no going back."

"I know."

His hand moves from beside my face to cup my cheek and I lean into it without meaning to.

"You're freezing," I whisper.

"I don't care."

"You should."

"I should do a lot of things." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "But all I want to do is this."

He leans in.

I lean in.

We're so close I can feel his breath on my lips, can see nothing except his eyes, can hear nothing except our breathing.

One more inch and we'd be kissing.

One more second and everything would change.

"Sebastian," I breathe.

"I know."

"We can't."

"I know."

But neither of us pulls back.

His other hand comes up to my face, holding me like I'm something precious, and my hands are on his chest and I can feel his heart racing under my palms.

"If we do this—" I whisper again.

"I know."

"Your brother—"

"I know."

"Everything we've been trying to avoid—"

"I know."

Our lips are almost touching.

Almost.

And then footsteps in the corridor outside.

Heavy footsteps.

Coming closer.

We freeze, our faces still inches apart, neither of us breathing.

The footsteps stop right outside my door.

A knock.

"Bronte?" Alexander's voice. "Are you awake?"

Sebastian and I stare at each other, both of us still frozen in place.

Another knock, harder this time.

"Bronte? I know you're in there."

Sebastian's hands drop from my face and he takes a step back, and the loss of his warmth feels like something breaking.

"Answer him," Sebastian whispers.

"Where will you—"

"The bathroom. Go."

He moves quickly across my room and slips into the bathroom, closing the door silently behind him.

I wait three seconds, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to make my face look normal.

Then I open my door.

Alexander stands there in his sleep clothes, his hair slightly mussed like he's been lying down.

"Hey," I say, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Is everything okay?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." He looks past me into my room. "I heard voices."