Chapter 17 The Storm Between Us: Pressure

Chapter 17 The Storm Between Us: Pressure
Elena Thorne 
“‘The Evolution of Mate Bonds in Pack Hierarchies: Ancient Law versus Modern Practice.’”
I read the project title aloud, my voice flat in the library’s quiet. Six o’clock had come faster than I wanted, and now I sat across from Kieran as his assignment sheet was spread open between us like evidence of the universe’s cruel sense of humor.
“That’s your topic?” I looked up at him. “Of all the possible mythology topics, you got assigned this?”
Kieran had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Professor Theron assigns topics. I didn’t choose it.”
“Right. Of course.” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “Because why wouldn’t we spend the next three weeks dissecting the very thing that—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “Never mind. Let’s just get through this.”
“What’s your thesis so far?” I pulled my own notebook closer, refusing to meet his eyes. “Or do you even have one?”
He slid a piece of paper across the table. I scanned his handwriting, surprisingly neat for once, outlining a basic argument about how modern pack bonds had deviated from ancient practices.
“This is… actually not terrible,” I admitted reluctantly. “Your argument about political alliances superseding genuine bonds is solid. But you need more historical precedent. The section on ancient bonding ceremonies is too surface-level.”
“That’s where I’m stuck.” He leaned forward, and I caught a whiff of his scent. “I can’t find enough primary sources on pre-modern bonding rituals.”
“You could blame it on you not searching in the right places.” I pulled out my phone, scrolling to a research database I had bookmarked. “There’s an archive of translated pack chronicles from the 1600s. It’s not in the main library system, but it happens to be here.”
I turned my phone toward him, showing the website. “This section has first-hand accounts of bonding ceremonies. As well as direct quotes from pack historians.”
Kieran leaned in to read, his shoulder nearly brushing mine. I shifted away slightly, maintaining a reasonable distance.
“This is perfect,” he voiced out in acknowledgment. “How did you find this?”
“Because I actually do research instead of skimming Wikipedia.” I stood abruptly. “I need water.” And just as I was about taking a step, I turned back. “Drop my phone when you are done looking through it.”
I walked to the small kitchenette area in the corner of the pack library. A private library that was in the estate’s west wing, yet somehow held more information than Northcrest’s library. 
It was quieter here, more isolated. Just us and one of the in-house staff’s husband who served as the evening librarian.
I filled a glass from the water cooler, taking my time and giving my best to slow my racing heart. I did not want to think about how we were going to spend the next three weeks analyzing mate bonds when ours was shattered beyond repair.
When I returned to the table, Kieran was still holding my phone.
My unlocked phone.
And from the view my eyes caught, he wasn’t looking at the research page anymore.
“What are you doing?” I grabbed for it, but he pulled back slightly, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Your phone lit up,” he said. “I promised, I had dropped it but a notification came in and I could not resist…”
I snatched the phone from his hands, my heart pounding. The screen showed my photo gallery. Specifically, a picture Sierra had taken of me some weeks ago in our dorm room.
I was wearing a black tank top and sleep shorts, my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun. No makeup. Just me, laughing at something Sierra had said, caught mid-motion as I had turned toward her.
Heat flooded my face. “You were going through my photos?”
“I wasn’t technically. It was already open and I just—” He stopped himself, and when he looked at me, something in his expression made my breath catch. “I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Like what?” I shoved my phone in my pocket, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking. “Half-dressed? Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t sleep wearing corporate.”
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice was soft and somehow it made my skin prickle. “I mean I’ve never seen you look so… unguarded. So—”
“So what?” I challenged, crossing my arms.
“Beautiful.”
The word hung between us and I instantly regretted asking.
I stared at him, my mind scrambling to process. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you this beautiful,” he repeated, and there wasn’t any hesitation in his voice now. “At the estate and in college, you’re always so put together. Your hair pulled back, wearing formal clothes, and a bit of stiffness in everything. But there, in that picture I mean, you looked free. And happy. Like—”
“Stop.” I held up a hand suddenly, heat crawling up my neck. “Just stop talking and concentrate on this.”
I turned away from him, reaching for my notes with hands that wouldn’t quite stay still. “We’re not having this conversation as I would not be tolerating any distractions.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” My voice came out sharp. “And I don’t want to hear it.”
But my body was betraying me. My hands were trembling. Sweat was gathering at the back of my neck. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat, too fast that I began to wonder what was wrong with me.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, an unnecessary gesture since my hair was already pulled back, just to give my hands something to do.
Kieran was still watching me. I could feel his gaze even with my back turned.
“We should focus on the project,” I managed, sitting back down with more force than needed. “You need to develop your argument about ancient versus modern practices. Let’s start with the primary sources I showed you.”
To his credit, Kieran didn’t push. Just nodded and pulled his notes closer.
But the sensations I felt from a simple compliment could not adjust back to normal suddenly.
We worked in silence for the next hour. I explained concepts and Kieran took notes. Occasionally our hands would reach for the same book and we would both pull back.