CHAPTER 4:
1108 Words
Alex's POV
The conference room felt like a trap.
Taylor led me to a seat across from Noah, which meant I had to look at him. I had to watch that woman—Vivienne, according to her nameplate—lean into his space as she belonged there.
My chest ached with every breath I took.
"Thank you all for coming," Noah said, his voice cool and professional. He didn't look at me. He hadn't looked at me since that first glimpse through the glass. "We have several territorial contracts to discuss today."
Taylor launched into his presentation about Rivern's tourism expansion plans. Numbers and projections, and development timelines.
One could feel the simmering tension between them. My brother delivered his reports in a tight tone, leaving no room for warmth or cordiality.
I tried to focus, but my brain kept pulling my attention back to Noah.
He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there last night. His jaw was tight, and he kept rolling his shoulders as they hurt.
Was he feeling it too? The withdrawal?
Vivienne's laugh cut through to my thoughts. She'd leaned in to whisper something to Noah again, and this time her hand slid from his arm to his shoulder, in a subtle possessive claim.
The pain in my chest increased. My wolf snarled, ready to fight. This was impossible!
"Ms. Blyden?"
I blinked and realized someone had asked me a question. Everyone was staring.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Taylor had this expression that promised we'd be having words later. "Mark asked about your perspective on the coastal development project."
Right. Mark Seer, who'd spent half my birthday party treating me like livestock. He was watching me with that same evaluating look, like he was still deciding if I was worth the investment.
"I think..." I started, then stopped because the room was spinning slightly. "I think any development should prioritize environmental impact."
It was a common answer, but it seemed to satisfy them. The conversation moved on.
I lasted another twenty minutes before I had to excuse myself. The bathroom was down the hall, and I barely made it before my legs gave out. I sank onto the closed toilet lid and pressed my forehead against my knees, trying to breathe through the nausea.
This was getting worse. The pain, the dizziness, the desperate need clawing at my insides.
The bathroom door opened. I looked up, expecting to see Taylor checking on me.
It was Vivienne.
She walked to the mirror and pulled out a lipstick, taking her time applying it while I sat there trying not to fall apart. When she was done, she turned to face me.
"You're Taylor Blyden's sister."
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.
"I'm Vivienne Whitmore. You must know of me already ." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I just wanted to introduce myself. Our packs will be working closely together on these contracts."
"Nice to meet you," I managed.
"You don't look well." She tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting specimen. "Should you even be here?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" She moved closer, and I caught her scent—expensive perfume and something else underneath it. Something that made my wolf bare her teeth.
A bit of Noah's scent.
"You look like you're about to pass out. Maybe you should go home."
There was something in her voice. It wasn't quite a concern. More like she was trying to get rid of me.
"I'll be fine once this meeting is over," I replied quietly.
"Hmm." Vivienne checked her reflection again, smoothing her already perfect hair. "Well, I hope you feel better. It would be such a shame if something happened to you."
The way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Before I could respond, she left, the door swinging shut behind her.
I sat there for another minute, trying to process what had just happened. Was that a threat? Or was I reading too much into it because I felt sick?
My phone buzzed. Taylor: Where are you?
I pulled myself up and checked my reflection. I was pale, glassy-eyed, like I was coming down with the flu. Great. I splashed cold water on my face and headed back.
The meeting dragged on for another hour. Noah barely spoke unless he had to, and when he did, his voice was flat and professional. He didn't look at me even once.
Vivienne, on the other hand, couldn't seem to stop touching him. A hand on his arm. Her shoulder brushes his. Little gestures that screamed mine to everyone watching.
Each touch felt like a knife between my ribs.
Finally, mercifully, the meeting ended. People started gathering their things, making small talk. I was halfway to the door when Noah's voice stopped me.
"Alexandra. A moment."
My heart jumped into my throat. Taylor glanced at me, but I waved him off. "I'll meet you at the car."
He didn't look happy about it, but he left.
The room emptied until it was just Noah and me. And Vivienne, who was hovering near the door like she had every right to stay.
"Alone," Noah said.
Vivienne's smile tightened, but she left. The door clicked shut behind her.
We stood there in silence. I could feel the bond between us both, he hadn't rejected me yet. I wanted to run to him. I wanted to shake him and demand why he was doing this.
"You look terrible," he finally said.
"Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special." His jaw tightened. "Are you sick?"
"What do you care about?"
"Alexandra—"
"Stop calling me that." My voice cracked. "You don't get to act concerned after what you said that night."
Something flickered across his face. Regret, maybe. But it was gone so fast I might have imagined it.
"That night was a mistake," he said carefully. "It shouldn't have happened."
"The bond doesn't care what you think should or shouldn't happen."
"There is no bond." The lie came out flat and emotionless. "Whatever you think you felt, you were wrong."
I stared at him. He stared back.
I could feel the connection pulling us tight, could see the tension in his shoulders that said he felt it too.
"You're a liar," I whispered.
His expression didn't change. "Go home, Alexandra. Rest. And stay out of neutral territory."
I took a step closer, and I saw his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow slightly at me.
“And what if I don't?” I said softly.
- Writer
