Chapter 169 Missing Wound

Estelle’s POV

I pushed open the door to my private living room and stepped inside. The space felt warmer and more intimate than my office, with comfortable furniture arranged around a large television mounted on the wall.

“Much better,” I said, placing the bottles on the coffee table. The soft clink of glass against wood filled the quiet room.

I reached for the television remote and began scrolling through the available options. “Is there anything specific you’d like to watch? We were supposed to watch a movie together that time at your place, but I fell asleep before we could start.”

I smiled, adding, “I believe I still owe you a movie night.”

Zayne settled onto the couch beside me, close enough that I could catch his familiar scent. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

“Well, this is to make up for that lost opportunity,” I said, holding out the remote to him. “You choose.”

As he reached for the remote, our fingers brushed against each other. The moment our skin made contact, an electric sensation shot through my entire body. It was like touching a live wire, but instead of pain, it sent waves of warmth racing up my arm.

I sucked in a sharp breath. My mouth suddenly felt completely dry.

Zayne’s fingers stilled against mine for just a moment, as if he had felt it too. Then he took the remote, his electric blue eyes meeting mine briefly before he looked away.

I quickly reached for one of the bottles, needing something to distract myself from the lingering sensation where our skin had touched. My hands felt shaky as I gripped the bottle’s cork.

“This one looks interesting,” Zayne said, his voice sounding slightly rougher than usual. He had selected some action movie, though I barely registered what was on the screen.

I twisted the cork, trying to focus on opening the bottle instead of the way my heart was still racing. But my grip was too tight, my movements too forceful.

The bottle exploded in my hands.

Glass shards scattered across the coffee table. The sweet blackcurrant-colored liquid splashed everywhere, staining the wooden surface and soaking into the couch cushions.

“Estelle!” Zayne was on his feet immediately, his eyes wide with alarm.

I stared at the destruction in shock. “I didn’t think I used that much strength.”

How had I managed to shatter an entire bottle? I had opened countless bottles before without any issues.

“Are you alright?” Zayne asked, already moving toward the kitchen area. “Where do you keep napkins?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, though I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. “Second drawer to the left of the sink.”

As I looked down at the mess, I noticed something that made my stomach drop. Dark red droplets were mixing with the purple alcohol, creating an ominous swirl across the table’s surface. It took me a moment to realize that it was my own blood.

The metallic scent hit Zayne almost immediately. His entire body went rigid, and he spun around from where he was gathering napkins.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice sharp with concern. “Where’s your medical kit?”

The pain hit me then, sharp and burning across my palm. “Bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror,” I managed to say.

Zayne disappeared down the hallway. I could hear cabinet doors opening and closing as he searched. Within moments, he was back with the white first aid box in his hands.

Since I didn’t have a wolf, I kept a first aid box prepared in most wings of the pack house, just in case. Only, I never thought that I would need to use it in such a manner.

Zayne set the kit on a clean section of the table.

“Give me your hand,” Zayne said, already opening the medical kit and pulling out antiseptic and bandages.

I extended my injured hand toward him, expecting to see a nasty gash from the broken glass. The pain was certainly intense enough to suggest significant damage.

But when both of us looked down at my palm, we froze.

There was nothing there. There was no wound, no cut, and not even a scratch.

The only evidence that I had been injured at all was the faint dark stain of the alcohol on my skin, mixed with what must have been my blood.

“That’s impossible,” I whispered, turning my hand over and examining both sides carefully.

Zayne took my hand in both of his, his fingers gentle as he inspected every inch of my palm and fingers. His touch sent those same electric sensations racing through me, but I was too confused to focus on that right now.

“I can smell your blood,” he said quietly. “You were definitely bleeding.”

I stared at my completely unmarked hand, my mind racing. “But the pain was so sharp. I felt the glass cut me.”

We both looked at the shattered bottle remains on the table, then back at my perfectly healed hand.

“Estelle,” Zayne said slowly. He wore a small frown as he met my eyes, peering at me with intensity. “When exactly did you say you lost your wolf?”