Chapter 6 The Eye of the Storm
Chapter Six
The Eye of the Storm
AVRIELLE'S POV
"We’re here. Get out."
The car came to a smooth, sudden halt, and for a second, I just stared at the rain-streaked window, paralyzed by the sight of the towering stone structure looming over us. Xavier stepped out, his tall silhouette cutting through the mist, and opened my door with a silent, sharp efficiency.
I stepped down, my bare feet hitting the wet gravel, and immediately began tugging at the hem of the tattered silk dress. The cold breeze was merciless, biting into my damp skin and making my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
Before I could even wrap my arms around myself, a heavy, warm weight settled over my shoulders. Xavier had stripped off his suit coat and draped it around me, the fabric smelling of expensive cedarwood and something that belonged only to him.
My first instinct was to snap it off, to reject his charity and tell him I didn’t need anything from a man like him, but the warmth was too seductive.
"Thanks," I muttered, my voice barely audible over the wind.
I looked around, my stomach twisting into knots.
We were standing in front of the Alpha’s Manor.
The last time I had been on these grounds, I wasn't an honored guest; I was a criminal, a lowly maid accused of treason, dragging my broken body across the dirt as I waited for the final blow that would end my life. To be back here felt like walking into a nightmare I had never truly escaped.
Xavier’s hand reached out, wrapping firmly around my waist to steady me as I stumbled on the uneven stones. I winced, the memory of his hand on the divorce papers flashing in my mind, and I shoved his arm away.
"I can walk," I snapped, forcing myself to stand tall even as my ankle throbbed in protest.
I could feel him right behind me as we stepped into the grand foyer. The marble floors were cold, and the air inside felt heavy with history. I let out a violent sneeze, my entire body beginning to shake with a chill that felt like it was radiating from my very bones.
"Come with me," Xavier commanded, his voice echoing in the vast space.
I didn't have the energy to argue anymore, so I just nodded, following him up the sweeping staircase. He led me to a heavy oak door at the end of the hall, pushed it open, and stepped aside.
"You’ll stay here for now. Feel at home."
"Home?" I scoffed, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
If it weren't for the fact that I was penniless and homeless, I wouldn't be here. He had helped dismantle my life, and now he wanted me to feel at home in his lion’s den?
"How ironic."
I tried to keep my face neutral, masking the bitterness. I knew the Alpha had a legendary temper, and the last thing I needed was to be tossed back out onto the streets to freeze to death.
Slowly, my trembling fingers moved to the buttons of his coat. I pulled it off my shoulders to hand it back to him, but as I did, the world suddenly tilted.
A wave of intense dizziness washed over me. The room spun, the colors of the rug blurring into a grey smear. I stumbled, my knees buckling, but I never hit the floor.
Xavier’s arms were there instantly, catching me with a grip that was surprisingly gentle for a man so ruthless. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, his brows furrowing.
"You're so cold... shit!" he groaned, his voice laced with a sudden, sharp concern.
Before I could protest, he scooped me into a bridal carry and headed straight for the en-suite bathroom.
I slumped against his shoulder, my head lolling. I tried to find my feet, tried to tell him to put me down, but my body had completely betrayed me; I felt like I was turning into a block of ice from the inside out.
I watched through half-closed eyes as he reached into the glass-walled shower, his hand turning the dial for the water heater.
He stepped inside, still holding me, and pulled me flush against his chest as the water began to rain down on us. At first, the heat was shocking, but slowly, the warmth began to seep into my skin.
I couldn't tell if the heat was coming from the shower or from the sheer, radiating power of Xavier’s body.
I looked up, my breath hitching in my throat.
We were both drenched, our clothes clinging to us like second skins. I froze when I saw his face; his skin was flushing a deep, burning red—not from anger, but from the rising heat of the water and the proximity of our bodies.
Xavier’s gaze shifted down to mine, and the air between us suddenly felt thicker than the steam in the room.
We locked eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world—Adrian, the divorce, the betrayal—simply ceased to exist.
Slowly, almost as if he couldn't help himself, his hand moved to my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, his touch searing hot against my skin, and I found myself leaning into it.
Our lips drew closer, the space between us vanishing until I could feel his ragged breath against my own.
"Not yet... I'm sorry," Xavier whispered, his voice thick and strained as he abruptly turned his head to the side, breaking the spell.
The rejection hit me like a bucket of ice water, snapping my senses back into my body with a violent jolt. My heart hammered against my ribs, but this time it wasn't from heat—it was from sheer, burning embarrassment.
What was I doing?
I had almost kissed my ex-uncle-in-law, a man I was supposed to despise, and to make it even more humiliating, he had been the one to pull away.
I bit down hard on my lower lip, the metallic tang of blood grounding me. I told myself I was relieved, that it would have been a mistake, but a traitorous part of my soul felt a sharp, hollow sting of disappointment.
Why did I want him to finish it?
Why was I craving the touch of the man who had just ended my life as I knew it?
"I'll have a maid come in to help you finish your bath," Xavier muttered, his gaze fixed firmly on the tiled wall as he helped me steady myself on my feet.
He didn't look at me again as he stepped out of the shower, his soaked clothes heavy and dripping, and disappeared through the bathroom door.
The moment the door clicked shut, I collapsed against the cold marble wall, clutching my chest. My lungs felt too small for the air I was trying to breathe.
There was something about him—something magnetic and intoxicating—that I couldn't resist whenever he was near.
I tried to tell myself it was just his Alpha aura, that powerful, overbearing energy that forced omegas like me to submit, but I knew better.
An Alpha aura was supposed to make you feel small, scared, and eager to run away. It wasn't supposed to make you want to melt into their skin.
I sighed, the image of his lips—so close, so firm—burned into my memory like a brand.
A soft knock at the door startled me.
"Come in," I called out, trying to smooth my hair and regain some semblance of dignity.
A young maid stepped in, bowing deeply with a level of respect I hadn't seen in years.
"Greetings, Madam. The Alpha has instructed me to be your personal maid during your stay. My name is Elena."
Madam?
The title felt heavy and wrong. I was a divorced, wolfless nobody, yet she was treating me like royalty.
I was too exhausted to question it, my mind a foggy mess of trauma and confusion, so I simply let her help me.
She guided me through the rest of my bath with a gentle touch, washing away the grime of the road and the scent of the rain until my body temperature finally leveled out.
By the time she helped me into a soft, silk nightgown and tucked me into the massive, plush bed, I felt like a hollow shell.
She dimmed the lights and slipped out, leaving me alone with the silence of the manor.
My eyes wandered to the nightstand, catching a glimpse of the suit coat Xavier had wrapped around me earlier.
Someone—either Xavier or the maid—had placed it right next to my pillow.
I hesitated for a long moment, my pride warring with my exhaustion, but eventually, I reached out and pulled the heavy fabric toward me.
I buried my face in the collar, taking a deep, shaky inhale of his scent. It was woodsmoke, rain, and something darkly masculine.
To my utter shock, the tension in my shoulders began to dissolve. My heart rate slowed.
The scent that should have signaled danger brought me a terrifying sense of comfort.
I closed my eyes, the weight of the last twenty-four hours finally crushing me.
My marriage was a lie. I was a divorce , and I was hiding in the house of the most dangerous man in the pack—a man I had slept with in a drunken blur.
Life wasn't just being cruel; it was playing a sick, twisted joke on me, and as I drifted into a fitful sleep, I realized the punchline was that I didn't want to leave.