Chapter 8: The Storm Inside Her
438 Words
The dream started soft.
A field. A full moon. Warm hands on her skin.
And Kade—whispering things in her ear that made her legs tremble.
She didn’t know how they got there. Only that his mouth was on her throat, his hands were under her dress, and her back was arching into him like she was born for it.
“You feel that?” he murmured, voice like a growl wrapped in velvet. “You feel what you do to me?”
She moaned. His lips found hers again — hungry, wild, reverent.
“You’re mine,” he said against her skin. “You’ve always been mine.”
She woke up gasping.
The sheets were tangled around her legs. Her shirt was sticking to her chest. And between her thighs—
Oh gods.
She sat up fast, heart slamming against her ribs.
The fire in the hearth had gone out. The room was cool.
She was not.
Elara shoved the blankets off and stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face.
Her reflection stared back at her like a traitor.
This wasn’t normal.
Sure, she’d heard of wolves feeling the bond in their dreams. But this? This was every night. And it was getting worse. Hotter. More intense.
And Kade?
He hadn’t touched her since that night in the bed. Hadn’t even hinted at it.
He was giving her space.
Respect.
It was infuriating.
⸻
When she came out, he was already up, cooking something that smelled like cinnamon and heaven. His back was to her. Shirt tugged tight across his shoulders.
Elara’s wolf purred.
Shut up.
She sat stiffly at the table.
“Sleep okay?” Kade asked, not turning around.
She froze. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You sure?”
She could feel him smirking.
“I’m fine,” she said again, sharper this time.
He turned slowly, plate in hand. Set it down in front of her.
And then — gods help her — he leaned down, just a little too close.
“You smell like heat,” he whispered.
Her heart stopped.
She shot to her feet, chair scraping hard against the floor. “Don’t.”
He raised both hands, backing off. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
“Elara.”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.”
“Neither did I,” he said quietly. “But I’m not fighting it anymore. Are you?”
Her breath hitched.
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Because they both already knew the truth
- Writer
