Chapter 14 CHAPTER 14
I lifted the dress and pulled it over my head, the fabric catching slightly as I tried to rush it down over my shoulders.
Then suddenly, the door opened.
I froze, unable to move for a few earth shattering moments.
The dress was halfway down, my arms tangled for a second as I fumbled to pull it into place. My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned my head just enough to see him.
He stood there...watching. He didn’t speak.
Didn’t move, he just stood in the doorway, his large frame filling the space, his gaze fixed on me in a way that made heat rush to my face despite the cold.
“Do you mind?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended as I struggled to pull the dress down properly. My fingers slipped against the fabric in my haste, catching the laces as I tried to fix them quickly. “You could at least knock.”
He didn’t respond.
Didn’t even look away.
That only made it worse.
My movements became more rushed, more careless as I tried to get the dress settled over me, to cover myself as quickly as possible. The fabric dragged against my ribs, and I flinched hard, a sharp sound slipping from me before I could stop it.
Pain shot through my side, stealing the breath from my lungs as I instinctively bent slightly, my hand moving toward my ribs.
A soft sound of air shifting was all I felt, and then he was there, right beside me.
I hadn’t seen him move.
Hadn’t heard a single step.
One moment he was across the room, and the next he stood at my side, close enough that I could feel the heat coming from him, close enough that it made my breath catch again for a completely different reason.
I stiffened instantly, my body going tense as I looked up at him, my heart pounding even harder now.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, even though I clearly wasn’t, the words coming out more defensive than anything else. “You don’t need to—”
I stopped.
Because he hadn’t touched me.
He just stood there.
Close... watching.
His presence pressed in around me, heavy and impossible to ignore, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before slowly lifting to meet mine.
My fingers tightened around the fabric of the dress, suddenly very aware of how close he was, of how easily he could overpower me if he wanted to.
“Next time,” I muttered, trying to steady my voice despite the way my chest still rose too fast, “try knocking.”
He didn’t answer.
And somehow, that unsettled me more than if he had.
He didn’t answer me.
For a moment, he just stood there, his gaze fixed on me in a way that made it impossible to look away. My fingers tightened around the fabric of the dress, my body still tense, still waiting for something I couldn’t predict.
Then he moved.
Slowly this time.
Not like before.
One of his large hands lifted, and instinct took over before I could stop it. I flinched, pulling back slightly, my shoulders tightening as I braced myself.
“Don’t,” I said quickly, the word sharper than I meant it to be. “I said I’m fine.”
He didn’t stop immediately, but his movement slowed, his hand hovering for just a second before continuing forward, more controlled now. My breath caught as his paw-like hand came closer, the size of it alone enough to make my chest tighten.
I tried to hold my ground.
Tried not to show how uneasy it made me.
His fingers brushed lightly against my side, just above where the pain had flared, and I couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath that followed. The contact was unexpected, not rough, not forceful, but careful in a way that didn’t match anything else about him.
I tensed beneath his touch, my hand instinctively gripping his wrist, ready to push him away if he pressed too hard.
“Stop,” I muttered, though the word came out weaker this time.
His hand shifted slightly, pressing just enough to find the exact spot where the pain was worst.
I winced.
My grip on him tightened.
“How do you even—” I started, but the words fell away as I focused on the sensation. He wasn’t hurting me. If anything, he seemed to be avoiding it, his touch adjusting each time I reacted, as if he was testing where it hurt and where it didn’t.
That didn’t make sense.
Nothing about this made sense.
My breathing slowed slightly despite myself, though my body remained tense, caught between pulling away and not wanting to make it worse.
His hand moved once more, more deliberate now, resting briefly against my ribs.
I sucked in a breath, expecting the pain to spike again.
But it didn’t. It eased, just slightly.
Enough for me to notice.
My brows pulled together, confusion replacing some of the fear as I looked up at him. “What are you doing?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer.
Of course he didn’t.
His gaze remained on me for a moment longer before his hand withdrew, the warmth of it leaving my skin almost immediately. The sudden absence of it made the cold feel sharper again, more noticeable now that it was gone.
I stepped back instinctively, putting a small space between us, my hand moving to my ribs as I tested it carefully.
The pain was still there.
But not as sharp.
Not as overwhelming.
I frowned slightly, my eyes lifting back to him.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered.
He stood there, unmoving, watching me in that same quiet way that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
And somehow, that unsettled me more than anything else.
The warmth from where his hand had been faded too quickly, the cold creeping back into my skin as if it had been waiting just beneath the surface. I stood there for a moment, my hand still resting lightly against my ribs, testing the ache carefully. The pain was still there, but dulled, not as sharp as before, and that alone was enough to unsettle me.
Nothing about him made sense.