Chapter 24 Trapped

Chapter 24 Trapped
Elena Thorne
His hands were on my waist, pulling me closer. The storage room was dark except for the dim glow of the lantern, and his breath was hot against my neck.
“Elena,” he whispered, and the sound of my name in his voice made my chest crack open.
I knew I should stop this. Push him away. Remember all the reasons why this was wrong. From the rejection to the humiliation. But his mouth found that spot just below my ear, the one that made my knees weak, and coherent thought scattered like leaves in the wind.
“We shouldn’t,” I managed, but my hands betrayed me, fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer.
“I know,” he breathed against my skin. “I know we shouldn’t.”
His lips traced a path down my throat, and I tilted my head back to give him better access, a soft sound escaping me that I couldn’t control. His responding growl vibrated through his chest, primal and possessive, and it did things to me that made my face burn even in the darkness.
“Kieran—”
He captured my mouth with his, swallowing whatever protest I had been about to make. The kiss was desperate and hungry. His tongue swept against mine, and I melted into him like I had been waiting for this, like my body had been counting the days since the storage room incident.
One of his hands slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers pressing into the fabric of my pants. The other tangled in my hair, destroying the neat bun I always wore, and the small sting of it sent heat pooling low in my belly.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured against my lips between kisses. “Every goddamn day. Every night. You’re driving me insane.”
“That’s not my fault,” I gasped as his mouth moved to my jaw, then lower, finding that sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.
“Isn’t it?” His teeth grazed my skin. “Walking around the estate in those professional outfits, acting like you don’t feel this too.”
“I don’t—” But the lie died on my lips as his hands found the hem of my blouse, fingers sliding underneath to touch my bare skin.
The contact was electric. I arched into him, a whimper escaping that would have embarrassed me if I’d had any capacity for shame left. His touch was fire and ice simultaneously, everything I’d been denying myself for three agonizing days.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, but his hands kept moving, tracing the curve of my waist to the dip of my spine. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”
I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come because they’d be a lie, and we both knew it.
Instead, I pulled him down to me again, kissing him with all the frustration and longing mixed with anger I had been carrying. He responded in kind, walking me backward until my back hit the storage room wall, his body pressing against mine in a way that made it impossible to think.
His knee nudged between my thighs, and the pressure made me gasp against his mouth. I could feel him, hard and wanting against my hip, and the knowledge that he was as affected as I was sent a thrill through me.
“Kieran,” I breathed his name.
“Elena.” His hands were everywhere now. My waist, my hips, sliding up to cup my face as he kissed me deeper. “Fuck, Elena.”
His hand slid lower, fingers finding the waistband of my pants, and I knew where this was heading. I should stop it before we crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.
But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted—
I jerked awake, my heart slamming against my ribs.
The dream I just had was vivid and so achingly real that I could still feel phantom touches on my skin, and still taste him on my lips. My breathing was ragged, and when I shifted in bed, I became aware of the uncomfortable wetness between my thighs.
“No,” I whispered into the darkness of my room. “No, no, no.”
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to scrub away the images, but they were burned into my mind. Kieran’s hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he’d said my name like it was the only word that mattered.
And my body had responded. Even now, in the aftermath of the dream, I could feel the lingering ache, the wanting that hadn’t disappeared just because I had woken up.
I felt disgusted with myself. Ashamed. How could I dream about him like that after everything? 
After he had made it crystal clear that I meant nothing to him beyond convenient tutoring and now inconvenient proximity?
This wouldn’t be happening if I had just kept my distance that day, I thought bitterly. 
If I had not let Sierra convince me to attend the Bonding ritual. And maybe just stayed in my dorm instead of hoping for something impossible. 
Now, the bond had ruined everything. It had given me a taste of something I could never have, then snatched it away, leaving me with these treacherous dreams and a body that didn’t understand it wasn’t wanted.
I threw off the covers, suddenly desperate to escape my own bed. The sheets felt too warm like all I had dreamt of in my sleep had actually happened.
A sharp knock on my door made me jump.
I grabbed my robe, pulling it on quickly, and opened the door to find one of the estate staff—Maria, an older woman staring at me with a warm smile..
“Good morning, Miss Elena,” she started. “Sorry to disturb you so early, but Alpha Marcus asked me to deliver a message to you.”
“Okay….” I nodded.
“There’s a conference at the Riverwood territory today. He needs you there to take notes on the territorial agreement discussions. The car will be ready at ten.”
I blinked, trying to shift my mind from the lingering dream to professional responsibilities. “Of course. Thank you, Maria.”
She nodded and started to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Miss? The kitchen is preparing breakfast if you’d like something before you go.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll be down shortly.”
As her footsteps faded down the hallway, I glanced at my phone. 8:32 AM. Just enough time to shower away the remnants of that dream, dress professionally, and maybe convince myself I could function like a normal person today.
The shower helped improve my mood. 
By the time I stepped out, I felt more like myself. Or at least, I felt like the version of myself I needed to be—professional, composed, able to take notes at a boring pack conference without falling apart.
I dried off and moved to my wardrobe, selecting a conservative blazer and slacks. 
I pulled my hair back into its usual neat bun, applied minimal makeup, and studied my reflection critically.
Professional. Capable. Completely unaffected by inappropriate dreams about men like Kieran.
Perfect.
I grabbed my tablet and notebook, checking the time again and it was 9:55. The car should arrive any minute.
As I turned away from the mirror, movement outside my window caught my eye.
I shouldn’t have looked. 
I should have just grabbed my things and headed downstairs.
But I did look.
Kieran was running the estate grounds, his morning routine I had learned to track carefully so I could avoid him. He wore only running shorts and shoes, his torso bare and gleaming with sweat in the early sunlight.
I watched, transfixed, as he moved with that easy athletic grace. Every one of his muscles was defined and his body moved like a predator’s—fluid, powerful, and utterly distracting.
My traitorous mind immediately supplied an image from my dream. Those same muscles under my hands, that same body pressed against mine, and—
Stop it. I yelled at myself
I couldn’t stop. My eyes traced the line of his shoulders, moving to the definition of his abs then to the V-shape that disappeared into his waistband. And suddenly I was remembering what I had felt in the dream.
“Oh my,” I whispered, horrified at myself. “What is wrong with you?”
I jerked away from the window so fast I nearly tripped, my face burning with shame. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. This obsessive, destructive fixation on a man from having to be with him.
I couldn’t keep letting my mind wander to places it had no right to go.
I grabbed my things and fled my room before I could torture myself further.
Just at 10 AM, I was downstairs with my bag, trying very hard not to think about what I had just been thinking about.
A car pulled up to me soon after and the driver loaded my bag. I climbed into the back seat, grateful beyond measure that this trip would be solo. No forced proximity with Kieran. 
Just me, my notes, and a nice boring conference about territorial agreements.
The drive to Riverwood territory took about forty minutes. I spent it reviewing notes on the territorial agreement, territorial hunting rights, and shared resource management protocols, doing anything to keep my mind occupied and far away from inappropriate anatomical imaginings.
The conference was being held in a modern building on the edge of Riverwood’s main settlement designed to impress visiting dignitaries and demonstrate Riverwood’s prosperity. I signed in at the front desk, received my visitor badge, and headed to the conference room on the third floor.
The room was already filled with wolves from various territories. I recognized a few faces from previous meetings like Beta Anders from Clearwater, Council Member Reeves from the western territories, and a few others whose names I’d committed to memory during my crash course in pack politics.
I nodded politely, exchanged brief pleasantries, and found a seat near the back where I could observe and take notes without being in the spotlight. Alpha Marcus hadn’t arrived yet. Neither had the Riverwood Alpha nor several other key players. Standard for these things as the important wolves always arrived fashionably late, making sure everyone else was already settled and aware of the hierarchy.
I pulled out my tablet, opened my notes app, trying to look professional and composed and like someone who definitely hadn’t spent her morning having inappropriate dreams and staring at her boss’s son through a window.
That was when I heard it.
A voice from the hallway, deep and familiar, saying words that made my blood run cold.
“—Kieran Silvermane, representing Alpha Marcus Silvermane of Silvermane Pack.”