Chapter eleven
754 Words
The ride back to the estate is so silent that I can actually hear the sound of Silas’s jaw grinding. If he clenches his teeth any harder, he is going to need a very expensive dentist. He is staring out the window, his large hands gripping his knees so tightly that the fabric of his trousers is beginning to protest.
"You know, for a man who just survived a wolf attack, you are being incredibly moody about a guy who spends his day giving flu shots," I say, trying to break the tension.
Silas doesn't even look at me. "He was touching your arm, Ivy. His fingers were on your skin. I can still smell his cheap, citrusy soul on you. It is offensive to my olfactory system."
"It’s lime, Silas. It’s a very popular scent for people who don't want to smell like a damp forest."
"I do not smell like a damp forest," he snaps, finally turning his head. His eyes are still flickering between silver and amber, a sure sign that his inner wolf is currently doing laps around his brain. "I smell like authority and heritage."
"You smell like a very handsome lumberjack who owns a private jet," I counter. "And Julian is just a nice guy. He used to bring me chamomile tea when I was stressed about exams. He’s harmless."
"Harmless? The boy looked like he wanted to propose to you over a tray of hospital sandwiches," Silas growls.
The SUV pulls up to the front of the mansion, and Silas is out of the car before the engine even stops. He doesn't wait for the driver. He rounds the car, opens my door, and basically plucks me out of the seat. My feet barely touch the gravel before he is ushering me toward the front doors with a heavy hand on the small of my back.
"Silas! Slow down! My legs are not six feet long!"
We burst into the foyer, where Cassian is sitting on a marble table, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. He looks at Silas’s murderous expression and then at my flustered face, and his grin becomes positively wicked.
"Rough day at the hospital, Alpha?" Cassian asks, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Did a needle scare you? Or did the Princess find a new knight in shining scrubs?"
"One more word, Cassian, and I will make you the new rug in the library," Silas says, not even slowing down.
He leads me straight up the grand staircase and toward his wing of the house. My heart starts to pick up speed. This is not the way to my guest room. This is the way to the master suite—the place where the air always feels five degrees hotter and the shadows seem to whisper.
"Where are we going? Silas, I have my own room! It has a TV and everything!"
"We are going to get that boy’s scent off you," he says, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rumble. "I cannot sit through a council meeting with the smell of Julian Thorne clinging to my mate. It is an insult to the bond."
"Your mate? You still haven't officially said that word when I’m not being threatened by rogues!" I shout, but he is already pushing open the massive double doors to his bedroom.
It is a cathedral of dark wood, charcoal silk, and floor-to-ceiling glass. He leads me straight into the master bathroom, which is essentially a spa made of black marble. He reaches into the walk-in shower—which is large enough to hold a small soccer team—and turns the handle. Steam begins to rise instantly.
"Wait, you want me to shower? Now? In your bathroom?" I ask, my face feeling like it’s on fire.
"I want that scent gone," he says, turning to face me. He is standing so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. He begins to unbutton his cuffs, his movements slow and deliberate. "And since you seem so fond of Julian’s 'nice guy' energy, I think you need a reminder of who you actually belong to."
The s****l magnetism in the room is so thick that I feel dizzy. He reaches out, his fingers hooking into the collar of the oversized sweater I am wearing his sweater. He tugs me toward him until my chest is pressed against his.
"Take it off, Ivy," he whispers, his breath ghosting over my lips.
- Writer
