Chapter 17 017
FREYA POV
I don’t know when I fell asleep or how long, but I woke up with the sudden need to urinate. I sat up in bed, still disoriented, and turned toward the window. It was already dark outside. My eyes moved to the digital clock glowing blue on the nightstand.
1:24 a.m.
Past midnight.
I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Since I hadn’t showered before falling asleep, I decided to do it now. As the water warmed, Nana crossed my mind. She probably thought I would come downstairs to eat when I woke up, but honestly, I was still full from the heavy meal at the gym.
Only my throat felt dry for no reason.
I stepped under the shower and let the water run over me. The warmth eased the tightness in my muscles and slowed my thoughts. When I finally stepped out, my body felt lighter, calmer. Water really was good for the body. The relief was instant.
I wrapped a towel around myself and walked toward the closet to grab a robe. As I passed the vanity, I noticed another envelope sitting right there on the mirror table. I looked around the room first, half-expecting someone to be standing in the shadows, then I picked it up.
I opened it, and my heart stopped. It was a photograph of Luna.
"Luna," I whispered.
She was smiling in an open garden, the sun hitting her face perfectly. There were three different pictures. I flipped through them, my breath catching when the last one captured Lila standing in the background.
"My princess... Mum is so sorry," I muttered, my thumb tracing over her little face.
Then I saw a small note left on the table. It was short, just a few words
“I’m not stalking her, just keeping eyes on her.”
A soft chuckle slipped out of me. What made Steve think I would see it that way?
I stared at Luna’s photos for minutes I couldn’t count. Somehow, knowing she was fine made something inside me ease... it made everything else feel worth it.
My dry throat alerted me again. Fuck, I really need water. I carefully set the pictures down on the vanity, like they were made of glass, and went to the closet. I grabbed a soft pink robe, tied it tight around my waist, and stepped out into the hallway.
Now, here came the problem: where exactly was the kitchen?
The place was massive. Corridors branched into more corridors, I walked slowly, trying to guess where a kitchen would be, and those "statue" guards from earlier were nowhere to be seen. It was just me and the silence.
At one point, I heard the faint sound of footsteps behind me but I ignored it.
Probably my imagination.
Finally, I rounded a corner and saw it—an open-concept kitchen that flowed into a massive dining area. Just as I expected, it wasn't a regular kitchen. It spelled out luxury.
I walked over to the island, found a glass, and was just about to pour some water when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I felt someone behind me. I spun around, my heart hammering, but the space was empty.
I was just about to dismiss it as another trick of my imagination when a voice cut through the darkness.
“You shouldn’t wander alone at night.”
I freaked out and let out a sharp scream, the glass slipping from my hand and shattering against the floor with a loud crash. I scrambled back, my eyes darting to the corner of the room.
Steve was leaning against the shadows of the pantry, dressed in nothing but black sweatpants. The dim light caught the hard lines of his chest and the tattoos on his arms.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, clutching my chest. “Are you insane?”
In two strides, he was in front of me. His hands came up instantly, firm but careful, gripping my arms as he scanned my face.
I looked down at the broken glass, ready to move, but he was already in front of me. But before I could take a step, he reached out and gripped my waist. His touch was hot against the silk of my robe.
"Don't move," he whispered, his voice deep and vibrating in the quiet kitchen. "There's glass everywhere.."
Before I could protest, he hooked one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me effortlessly. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his bare skin. The scent of him—woodsmoke and something expensive—hit me all at once.
It was intense. The way he looked at me, with his eyes dark and focused on my lips, made the air in the room feel thick. He didn't put me down. He just held me there, his heart beating steady against mine..
“It will scare me if you hurt yourself,”Steve said, his voice dropping into a low, possessive growl. "I will hate that."
"I... I just..." I swallowed hard, the words dying in my throat. The way he was looking at me, like he owned the very air I was breathing, made me stammer. I couldn't even explain that I was just thirsty.
He didn't say anything else. He just carried me out of the glass-strewn kitchen and set me down on one of the heavy dining chairs. He walked back into the kitchen, his bare back muscles rippling under the dim lights, and returned a moment later with a fresh glass of water.
He handed it to me and then just stood there, towering over me, watching me drink.
The intensity was suffocating. I tried to focus on the water, but my eyes kept betraying me, drifting to his bare chest. I could see the ink of his tattoos and the raw strength in his frame. Suddenly, the memory of him at the gym—the heat, the sweat, the way he moved—flashed through my mind. I felt a sudden, traitorous ache in my core, and my nipples pebbled against the silk of my robe.
I hated how my body was misbehaving. This man was a …., a dangerous mystery, yet my skin was screaming for him.
"Luna... thank you," I finally managed to say, my voice breathy. "For the pictures."
Steve didn't answer with words. He just smirked, a slow, knowing pull of his lips that told me he knew exactly what I was looking at.
I couldn't take it anymore. I felt stupid, exposed, and way too affected by him. I needed to get out of there. I tried to hurry and stand up, but my legs were weak, and I tripped on the hem of my robe.
Steve lunged forward, catching me before I hit the floor. His hands were large and hot, gripping my waist and pulling me flush against his hard chest. The contact made my head spin. My body was so hungry for his touch it was pathetic.
"Can I touch you?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. It was the worst thing I could have said. I didn't even recognize my own voice.
Steve let out a dry smirk, his eyes darkening with something predatory. I felt an instant wave of embarrassment wash over me. Great, Freya. Now you just look like a desperate stupid idiot to him.
"I... I should go," I muttered, trying to push against his shoulders to break free. I wanted to run, to hide in that massive bedroom and never come out.
I turned to walk away, but Steve wasn't done. He reached out, his fingers hooking into my arm, and dragged me back with a sharp tug. I hit his shoulder hard, my breath leaving me in a huff.
"You asked for this," he whispered, his voice a dangerous growl against my ear.
Before I could even gasp, his lips locked onto mine, hard and demanding.