Chapter 5: My Shirt Looks Good on You
942 Words
Kael never comes back.
It's been hours, and the sun begins sinking behind the trees.
The only person I see all day is a woman in a simple serving uniform. She knocks once, steps inside without meeting my eyes, sets a tray of food on the table, and attempts to leave just as quickly.
I try to talk to her. “Can you tell me where I am? Or when Kael is coming back?”
She just ignores me, with her head bowed, and leaves.
I eat because I’m starving, not because I’m calm. My nerves are shot. My clothes are still dirty from the forest, and the room feels too big, too quiet, too… his.
By the time the sky outside turns dark, I’m pacing.
He’s not coming back.
He probably forgot about me.
Or he’s busy doing whatever terrifying wolf‑Alpha things he does.
I glance at the closet.
It feels wrong to go through his things.
But I’m cold and dirty.
My clothes smell like sweat and fear and dirt.
I open the closet and see his shirts hanging neatly in a row — dark colors, soft fabrics, all of them way too big for me. I grab the first one my hand touches, a black long‑sleeve that smells faintly like pine and something warm I can’t name.
When I pull it on, it falls past my knees like a dress.
Whatever.
It’s clean, it's warm.
And honestly… It smells really good.
I crawl into the bed — the softest bed I’ve ever felt — and exhaustion hits me like a wave. I don’t even remember closing my eyes.
Morning light warms my face.
I stretch, blink, and roll over—
And freeze.
There’s someone beside me.
Someone big.
Someone warm.
Someone breathing steadily.
My heart stops.
Kael.
He’s lying on his back, one arm resting above his head, dark hair messy, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.
He’s in the bed.
With me.
In the same room I fell asleep in alone.
My breath catches in my throat as his eyes slowly crack open.
He blinks once.
Twice.
Then focuses on me.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, voice low from sleep.
I launch myself out of the bed so fast I nearly fall over.
“What— what— what are you doing here?!” I sputter, backing up until I hit the wall. “Did you— did you sleep here the whole night?!”
Kael pushes himself up on one elbow, completely calm, like this is normal. Like I’m the one being dramatic.
“You were asleep,” he says simply. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That doesn’t answer the question!”
He studies me for a moment, eyes lingering on the oversized shirt hanging off my shoulders.
“My shirt looks good on you,” he says.
I stare at him, speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
Why is he here?
Why did he sleep next to me?
Why does he look at me like he knows me?
Did he do anything to me while I was sleeping??
He gets up and slowly approaches me, my back pressed up against the wall.
“Hey… what’s wrong?” He says softly.
I’m speechless. What does he think is wrong?? He basically kidnapped me and is holding me hostage, planning who knows what with me!
“Don't be scared, baby. I didn’t touch you.”
He softly caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers.
“You looked so peaceful in my bed and in my shirt. You can help yourself to my clothes anytime, but I brought you some clothes that are your size.”
He gestures to a box on the floor by the door filled with all sorts of clothes and toiletries. A toothbrush, hairbrush, jeans, t-shirts, dresses. I even catch a glimpse of a few bras and panties. Which instantly makes me feel embarrassed.
“So this is… Your room?”
“Yes. It's yours too now. Do you like it?”
“Does it matter? I’m a prisoner here! I’m f*****g scared! And I have no idea what you and your band of monsters is going to do with me!”
“Jasmine, I… can’t explain everything yet, I will eventually, I just- I just need to trust me right now. I will never hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I promise that.”
I stand there, still against the wall. He is unreasonably close to me and I can almost feel his breath on the skin of my face. God, he smells so good.
This guy literally kidnapped me. Why the hell am I thinking he smells good right now?
“Let's go get some breakfast.” He says in a calm, cheerful tone.
“I can leave the room…?” I answer.
His expression shifts — not quite a smile, not quite a warning.
“You’re coming with me,” he says. “But you’re not going anywhere alone.”
My stomach drops. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not safe,” he says simply. “Not for you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off gently.
“Come on,” he says, stepping toward the door. “You need food. And the pack needs to see you with me.”
“See me with you?” I echo, confused.
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at me.
“Breakfast,” he says. “Come with me.”
This could be my chance.
- Writer
