CHAPTER 26
1105 Words
ADINNA’S POV
Jace doesn’t move.
Not an inch.
His eyes flicker like a golden fire, shadows rippling across his face as he leans in slowly, deliberately, and dangerously. My breath catches before I can stop it. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of him and smell the faint mix of smoke and pine that always seems to cling to his skin.
He inhales, like he’s memorizing my scent, and something in my chest twists violently.
I want to shove him off, to scream, to do something, but instead, I’m frozen.
I hate this. I hate that my body doesn’t understand what my mind is screaming.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to crawl down my spine. “You smell scared.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “Then why is your heart racing like that?”
I can feel my pulse hammering wildly, betraying me. My throat tightens, and I push at his chest, forcing space between us. “Get off me.”
He doesn’t. His gaze stays locked on me, steady and unrelenting.
“You keep saying that,” he says softly, “but your eyes tell a different story.”
I blink, and my anger flares hotter than my fear. “You think this is some kind of game?”
“Everything’s a game,” he says, his voice dripping with that maddening calm. “You just haven’t learned how to play yet.”
That smirk again. That stupid, smug, dangerous smirk. It’s like he knows exactly how to crawl under my skin and stay there.
“Is it really that easy to get a reaction out of you?” he asks, eyes flicking down to my lips for a fraction of a second.
My stomach twists. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
He grins faintly. “Like what?”
“Like you—like you want something.”
He leans closer, his breath ghosting across my cheek. “Maybe I do.”
The words hit me like a slap. My pulse spikes and heat blooms traitorously at the back of my neck.
This is wrong. He’s wrong. Everything about this is chaos.
“Leave,” I whisper, forcing the word out before it gets stuck in my throat.
Jace’s expression doesn’t change. He studies me like I’m some puzzle he’s almost figured out.
“I said leave,” I repeat, louder this time, though it comes out shaky.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. For a second, I think he might actually listen but then his hand brushes against the wall beside my face again, trapping me in place.
“Why?” he says softly. “You don’t seem to mind me that much.”
My hand moves before my brain catches up. The sound echoes sharply and shocking.
I slapped him.
Again.
His head snaps slightly to the side, the faintest red mark already blooming on his cheek.
And for one long, breathless moment, the world stops.
I realize what I’ve done. My pulse roars in my ears. I expect him to explode, to lash out, to grab me, to do something.
But he doesn’t.
He just freezes.
Then he laughs.
The kind of laugh that isn’t amused but sounds like a warning.
“You’ll regret that,” he says finally, his voice barely above a growl.
The words slide under my skin like a blade.
I stand my ground, even though my knees feel like jelly. “Get out,” I manage to say while pointing at the door. “Now.”
He stares at me for a long, unbearable second, and something unspoken flickers in his eyes. It’s not anger. It’s something worse.
He steps back slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You should lock your door, Adinna.”
His voice is soft, but it carries that same quiet threat that always makes the room feel smaller.
He turns toward the door, and for a moment, I think that it’s finally over but then, without looking back, he adds, “Next time, I won’t be this kind.”
And then he’s gone.
Just like that.
The door shuts behind him with a click that sounds too final.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the spot where he was, my breath coming out in short, uneven bursts. The silence that follows is deafening.
My entire body trembles. I tell myself it’s adrenaline and that I’m just shaken.
But the truth?
The truth is worse.
When he was close, when his breath brushed my skin, when his voice dropped to that low, dangerous whisper, something inside me stirred.
Not fear. Not exactly.
It’s something I don’t have a name for.
I hate it. I hate that my heart doesn’t know how to tell the difference between fear and whatever that was.
I lock the door twice and sink to the floor. My back presses against the wood, and I drag in a deep breath that doesn’t help at all.
The room smells faintly of him. That same mix of pine and danger, clinging to the air like smoke that refuses to fade.
“Get a grip, Adinna,” I whisper to myself. “It’s just adrenaline. That’s all.”
But my wolf doesn’t agree.
She stirs restlessly beneath my skin, pacing and agitated. Her unease ripples through me like static that’s clawing at the edges of my control.
He’s dangerous, she seems to say. But he’s ours.
“No,” I whisper harshly. “He’s not.”
My voice sounds too small and uncertain.
The silence stretches again. I pull my knees to my chest, pressing my forehead against them and try to calm the storm brewing inside.
This place is eating me alive. Between the tests, the whispers, the secrets and Jace I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
Every time I think I’ve figured him out, he shifts. One minute he’s cruel and the next he’s protective. One minute I want to scream at him and the next I can’t breathe when he’s near.
I don’t know which version of him scares me more.
The one who wants to hurt me.
Or the one who doesn’t.
A sudden thud makes me jolt upright.
It’s against the door.
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Jace?” I whisper before I can stop myself.
There’s no response.
I wait, frozen, every muscle tense.
Then, softly I almost think I imagined it, a voice comes through the door.
“Sweet dreams, little wolf.”
- Writer
