Chapter 9
1278 Words
Audrey’s POV
Pain pulsed through my ankle, shooting up my leg and settling in my ribs. Everything hurt, and yet, I felt warm and safe because he was there.
Michael.
His arms cradled me like I weighed nothing, his voice soft yet firm as he whispered reassurances against my temple. I could hear the pounding of his heart. Or was that mine?
When he kicked open the door to the penthouse bedroom, I realized it wasn’t the guest room I’d been staying in.
No.
This space was nothing like that.
It was… a world of its own.
His room.
Massive windows lined one wall, offering a sweeping view of the city, and the bed… goodness, the bed was large enough for a dozen people. Shelves of books, dark mahogany furniture, a sleek fireplace crackling with low flames… it wasn’t a room.
It was a sanctuary.
He lowered me onto the bed with a gentleness that nearly made me cry.
“What happened?” he asked as he knelt beside me, his voice calm but his eyes dark with restrained fury.
I blinked up at him, trying to process the question. “I… I was bored,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
His brow arched. “You fell down the stairs because you were bored?”
“I didn’t want to stay cooped up in that room anymore. I thought maybe a walk would help. Guess my ankle had other plans.” I nodded slowly, feeling more ridiculous by the second.
He stared at me for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose like he was holding back a lecture. Instead, he stood and turned toward the far end of the room.
“I should have known you wouldn’t stay put,” he muttered as he moved toward a small cabinet and pulled out medical supplies. “From now on, you stay in here. With me.”
My heart jumped. “In here?”
He glanced back at me. “This room has everything you need… kitchenette, lounge, office, walk-in wardrobe, even a gym and spa. You won’t lack anything.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he shot me a look that made it clear this wasn’t up for debate.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight again, Audrey.”
My wolf purred at the sound of my name on his lips.
He returned with a basin of water, a towel, antiseptic, and bandages. His movements were efficient, focused… almost too focused. I tried not to watch him, but the way his shirt hugged his frame, how his sleeves were rolled up to reveal the veins in his forearms—it was distracting.
Very distracting.
He knelt in front of me, gently lifting my injured leg onto his thigh. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said, already dabbing the swollen area around my ankle.
“It already hurts,” I murmured.
“Fair point.”
He worked silently, his fingers cool and sure. When he moved closer to apply the antiseptic, I shifted slightly and the strap of my tank top slipped down my shoulder.
I didn’t notice until his hand froze.
I looked up and caught him staring.
Not at my face.
Lower.
His eyes darkened a shade, and his jaw flexed.
I followed his gaze down and realized that the angle I was sitting at had exposed a generous view of my cleavage. The thin fabric of the tank top did little to hide anything, and his pupils dilated slightly.
My cheeks flamed and my n*****s were hard.
“Are you seriously getting turned on while dressing a wound?” I blurted, crossing my arms over my chest. “Pervert.”
He blinked, slowly looking up at me. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You call me a p*****t while wearing that shirt?”
“This is your shirt,” I snapped.
He leaned in, placing the bandages aside. “And you look better in it than I ever did.”
My breath caught.
He was so close now, his scent… cedar, spice, and something dark wrapped around me like smoke. His gray eyes bore into mine, and for a second, the world fell silent.
No pain.
No past.
Just us.
His lips hovered inches from mine.
My heart raced. My wolf howled with anticipation.
Was he going to kiss me?
Please, kiss me…
I closed my eyes.
Then… silence.
Seconds passed.
Then I heard him clear his throat.
“Close your mouth,” he said flatly.
My eyes flew open in horror—he was standing now, across the room, calmly packing the supplies back into the cabinet.
I slapped my hands over my lips, humiliated. “Oh my goddess,” I muttered. “I hate you.”
He didn’t even turn around. “Who’s the p*****t now?”
I tried to scowl, but the heat flooding my face betrayed me.
“Your kitty’s probably dripping wet,” he added casually.
“Michael!” I gasped.
He turned back around, utterly unbothered, a smug grin plastered on his too-perfect face. “I’m just saying. I wasn’t the one with her mouth open, ready to melt.”
“I wasn’t…!”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“You’re so full of yourself!”
“And yet, here you are. In my bed. Wearing my shirt. Flushed like a girl caught sneaking cookies at midnight.”
I threw a pillow at him. He caught it mid-air with one hand.
Smirking.
Arrogant.
And unfairly gorgeous.
I flopped back on the pillows, covering my face. “I hate this. I hate you.”
He walked over and sat beside me again, this time more relaxed, less intense.
“No, you don’t,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “You just don’t know what to do with how I make you feel.”
I turned my head slightly, peeking at him through my fingers. “And how exactly do you make me feel?”
“Alive,” he said without missing a beat. “Like someone finally sees you.”
I dropped my hands slowly.
“Don’t lie to me, Audrey,” he continued, his voice low and serious now. “You’ve been invisible for too long. I see you. And I want you to start seeing yourself.”
That… hurt.
Because it was true.
No one had ever said that to me before. Not even close.
Not my so-called family.
Not Kevin.
And yet here was this ruthless, cold, terrifying Alpha… giving me more than anyone else ever had.
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.
“I know enough,” he replied. “I know strength when I see it. I know pain. And I know that the woman in front of me has survived more than most warriors I’ve led.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away.
“Rest,” he said gently. “Your body needs it. I’ll be right here.”
He stood, moved to the other side of the bed, and leaned against the headboard. He didn’t press for anything. Didn’t ask for thanks.
Just stayed.
And that made me want to cry all over again.
Because it had been so long since anyone just… stayed.
I closed my eyes, my hand resting inches from his.
He didn’t touch me.
But I felt him there.
His presence steady.
His warmth close.
And for the first time in a long time—I felt safe.
Really safe.
Even if he was a p*****t.
Especially because he was my p*****t.
- Writer
