Chapter 217
Chapter 217:
“You are not a charity case,” I growled, stepping into her space and boxing her against the cabinet. “And you are certainly not broken p>
“Then prove it,” she whispered.
She rose on her tiptoes, her hands clutching the lapels of my shirt to steady herself. The scent of her — Moonflower and rain, now laced with the sharp tang of bourbon — flooded my senses. She pressed her body against mine, soft curves meeting hard muscle, and tilted her head back.
She was offering herself to me.
𝖲𝘩а𝘳𝖾 у𝗈𝘶𝘳 𝗍𝗁𝗼𝗎𝗀h𝘵𝘀 𝘰𝗇
TAKE HER! Ragnar roared, the sound deafening in my skull. MARK HER! MAKE HER OURS!
My hands gripped her waist, thumbs pressing into the silk of her robe. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to crush her mouth with mine, to carry her to the nearest surface and erase every memory of Braydon Hyde with my teeth and my tongue.
But as her lips parted, waiting, I saw it — the desperation in her eyes. She didn’t want me. She wanted an escape. She wanted to feel something other than the phantom pain of her past.
If I took her now, I would be no better than the boy who had broken her.
I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached and pulled back, creating a cruel inch of space between us.
“Not like this, Adella,” I murmured, my voice strained with the effort of restraint. “When I kiss you, I want you to know it’s me. Not the whiskey. Not the ghost of another man p>
She blinked, confusion clouding her gaze. “Dallas p>
“You are the only real thing in my life,” she breathed, her head lolling forward to rest against my chest. “The only… real p>
Her legs gave out. I caught her before she could hit the floor, scooping her up into my arms. She was light — terrifyingly so — but she fit against me as if she had been carved from my own rib.
I carried her into the master bedroom. The room was bathed in moonlight, the black silk sheets of my bed waiting like a shadow. I laid her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillows.
As I pulled the duvet over her, my mind drifted back five years. To a Pack summit I hadn’t wanted to attend. I had walked past a group of teenagers, and for a single moment, caught a faint, sweet trace of Moonflower. Ragnar had gone feral instantly, screaming Mate — but by the time I turned, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd. A wolfless girl, invisible to everyone but me.
I had spent years searching for that scent. And now she was here. In my bed.
I turned to leave, intending to take the couch, but a small hand shot out and caught my wrist.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled into the pillow, her brow creasing with the shadow of a nightmare. “Please… don’t leave me alone with them p>
The plea shattered what remained of my resolve. I pulled the armchair closer to the bed and sat down, taking her hand in mine. Her fingers were cold. I warmed them between my palms.