Chapter 33
Chapter 33:
“You misunderstand the purpose of that document,” he murmured, stopping at the edge of the bed. He leaned down and placed one hand on the mattress beside my hip, his face dropping to within inches of mine. I caught the mint of his toothpaste beneath the cedar warmth of his skin. “The contract exists to protect you from the world, Adelia. From the press. From my enemies.” His gaze dropped briefly to my lips. “It was never meant to protect you from your Mate p>
My heart stuttered. Mate. The word hung between us, dense and forbidden.
“We aren’t—” I started, but my voice dissolved before I could finish.
“Aren’t we p>
He leaned closer. His eyes were threaded with swirling gold, hypnotic and dangerous. I knew I should push him away. I knew I should say something sharp and put distance between us. But my body had entirely stopped consulting my mind. My pulse raced. Heat pooled low in my stomach. I tilted my head back, eyes falling shut, bracing for the kiss that would ruin everything—
The warmth vanished.
My eyes snapped open. Dallas was standing by the door, fully upright, expression composed to perfect blankness. The intensity was gone, extinguished as cleanly as a candle.
“Get dressed,” he said, his voice flat and entirely unaffected. “Breakfast is in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait p>
He opened the door, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes moved over me—not with desire, but with the detached, faintly amused assessment of someone evaluating something mildly beneath their notice.
“Fix your hair,” he added, his tone perfectly dry. “You have pillow marks on your cheek. It’s unbecoming p>
The door shut behind him.
Rо𝗺𝖺𝗻𝘤𝗲 aո𝗱 𝗉a𝘀ѕіоn 𝗈𝘯
I sat completely still, staring at the wood grain while humiliation washed over me in slow, scalding waves. He had played me. He had pulled the strings with surgical precision, made me want him, and then walked away like a man who had simply grown bored with a game he was already certain he’d won.
Unbecoming.
I let out a sound that was half scream, half growl, and hurled a pillow at the door. It struck with a soft, entirely unsatisfying thud.
“Fine,” I hissed at the empty room. “You want to play games. Let’s play p>
I threw back the duvet, grabbed my laptop bag from the chair, and dropped down at the small vanity table. My hands were shaking—not with fear this time, but with a rage that was clean and clarifying and altogether more useful. I didn’t bother looking at my reflection. I opened a new document and began to type.
ADDENDUM A TO BINDING PROTECTION CONTRACT
My fingers moved across the keys with the focused intensity of someone building a wall, brick by brick.
1. Under no circumstances shall either party enter the other’s private sleeping quarters without explicit verbal permission.
2. Appropriate attire must be maintained in all shared living spaces. Partial or full nudity is strictly prohibited in any common area.
3. Any conduct intended to solicit emotional distress or to manipulate the psychological state of the other party constitutes a breach of agreement.
I stared at the screen, chest heaving. It was flimsy—words on a page held against a creature of instinct and centuries of absolute authority. But it was what I had, and I had nothing else to build with.