Chapter 20
838 Words
Irene woke up slowly.
At first, nothing made sense. The bed beneath her was too soft. The room smelled different, clean, warm, faintly like pine and something deeper.
Not the servants’ quarters.
Her eyes flew open.
She sat up sharply, her heart slamming into her ribs. She looked around, panic rising like a wave. The room was large. Elegant. Dark wood walls. Heavy curtains. A massive bed.
Then it all came crashing down.
The kitchen.
The whispers.
Sebastian’s voice.
The way her chest had hurt so badly she thought she would break.
And Elvis.
Her breath came fast. Too fast.
She threw the covers aside and jumped off the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor and she didn’t even care how cold it was. One thought filled her head.
Run.
She rushed toward the door, she was about to open the door when she had him call her name
“Irene.”
His voice stopped her like a command.
She froze mid step. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Slowly, she turned around.
Elvis stood near the washroom door, half naked.
Her breath hitched.
He had clearly just come out of the shower. His hair was damp, water dripping down his neck and shoulders. A towel was wrapped low around his waist, clinging dangerously to his hips. His chest was bare, muscles relaxed but powerful.
Her wolf whistled loudly in her head.
Oh.
Irene whimpered softly before she could stop herself. Her eyes dropped and refused to look away.
Abs.
Firm. Defined. Water sliding down them as he lifted the towel to rub his hair. The movement made his muscles ripple, slow and deliberate, even though he had no idea what he was doing to her.
Her cheeks burned.
Don’t look. Don’t look she kept repeating in her head but she failed woefully.
Elvis frowned slightly, clearly confused by her silence. He kept rubbing his hair, unaware, his body moving in a way that made the bond pulse painfully.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The bond tugged. Hard.
Her wolf stirred restlessly, pressing against her chest, drawn to him like a flame.
It’s just the bond, Irene told herself desperately. Nothing else. Just the stupid bond.
Elvis cleared his throat. “I, um… would you like some tea?”
She swallowed hard. Her throat was dry. Painfully so.
She shook her head quickly, still staring at a spot on his chest like it was the safest place in the room.
He waited as the silence stretched.
Then it hit her. She hadn’t actually answered.
“Irene?” he said again
Her eyes snapped up to his face. He was watching her now, brows drawn, something dark and careful in his gaze. Awareness flickered there of her scent, her flushed cheeks, the tension humming between them.
She stepped back. Then another step.
“N-no,” she managed to say, the word barely a sound.
Before he could respond, she turned and bolted.
She rushed past him so fast the air shifted. His scent wrapped around her, soap, rain, wolf and it nearly made her dizzy.
“Irene—”
She was already gone.
The door slammed behind her.
Elvis stood there, frozen, towel forgotten in his hands.
His wolf growled softly.
She feels it.
“I know,” Elvis muttered.
Irene didn’t stop running until she reached the end of the corridor. Her heart was racing, her lungs burning. She leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest.
What was that?
Her wolf paced wildly inside her.
Did you see him? it asked breathlessly.
“Shut up,” Irene whispered harshly.
But her body wouldn’t listen. Her skin still tingled where his presence had brushed her. Her stomach twisted with something warm and frightening.
She had seen warriors before. Strong men. Handsome men.
None of them had ever made her feel like this.
She slid down the wall, hugging her knees.
It’s the bond, she repeated again. Only the bond.
But her wolf didn’t answer.
Elvis dressed quickly, irritation and something far more dangerous rolling through him. He pulled on his shirt, his mind replaying the way her eyes had widened, the way her scent had changed sweet, nervous, drawn.
She had felt it.
The bond wasn’t one sided.
That knowledge settled heavy in his chest.
Three weeks, his father’s voice echoed.
Elvis clenched his jaw.
He wasn’t going to chase her. Not like prey. Not like a prize.
But he also wasn’t going to pretend this meant nothing.
Irene reached her room and closed the door quietly behind her. She pressed her back against it, sliding down slowly.
Her face felt hot. Her heart still wouldn’t slow.
She could still see him.
Water on his skin.
The towel, the way he had said her name.
Her wolf sighed dreamily.
He’s ours.
“No,” Irene whispered, shaking her head. “He’s not.”
She didn’t know who she was trying to convince.
- Writer
