Chapter 166
Chapter 166:
But he didn’t say the words. He simply held me in the dark as the city lights blurred past, leaving me safe, cherished, and utterly confused.
The silence in the penthouse was different from the silence in the car. It wasn’t heavy with unspoken confessions anymore — it was warm, smelling of rich cocoa and the lingering, electric scent of ozone that always clung to Dallas.
I sat on the massive, cloud-like sofa, a cashmere throw tucked securely around my legs. My cramps had dulled to a manageable ache, thanks mostly to the supernatural warmth Dallas had poured into me during the drive. But now, staring at the coffee table, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It looked like a pharmacy had exploded.
There were boxes of tampons in every absorbency level known to mankind, pads ranging from light to overnight, three different brands of heating pads, and enough high-end dark chocolate to induce a diabetic coma. Bottles of painkillers stood lined up in a neat row like soldiers.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I murmured, picking up a box of truffles.
Dallas was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was rolled to the elbows, revealing the powerful cords of muscle in his forearms. He stared out at the city lights, his posture rigid.
𝖲𝗵𝘢𝗋𝖾 𝘆𝘰u𝘳 f𝗮𝗏o𝗋𝗶𝘵𝗲𝘴 f𝗋𝗼𝘮
“I did not know what you preferred,” he said, his voice rough. “So I acquired everything p>
Before I could respond, the elevator chimed and Azalea breezed into the room. She was wearing a silk robe and holding a glass of wine, looking every bit the unbothered princess of the supernatural world.
“Dad, I felt your mood swing from three floors do—” She stopped dead, her eyes landing on the mountain of feminine hygiene products covering the coffee table.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat. Then Azalea threw her head back and howled with laughter.
“Oh my Goddess,” she gasped, clutching her stomach. “Dad, did you raid the Pack’s entire apothecary p>
Dallas turned slowly, his eyes narrowing into glowing slits. “Azalea p>
“He grilled me for an hour on the Mind-Link last month!” She turned to me, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I’m serious. He demanded a tactical assessment on mitigating she-wolf cyclical discomfort. I thought he was planning a war, not a period care package p>
My cheeks heated, but a warmth bloomed in my chest that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He had researched this? The terrifying Lycan King — who could crush Alphas with a single look — had spent an hour interrogating his daughter about cramps?
“Get out,” Dallas growled, snatching a decorative pillow from the armchair and hurling it at her with impressive velocity.
Azalea dodged it effortlessly, her laughter trailing behind her as she retreated to the elevator. “You’re welcome for the intel, old man p>
The doors slid shut, leaving us alone again. The air felt suddenly intimate, charged with the raw, clumsy affection he tried so hard to conceal behind his stoicism.