Chapter 225
Chapter 225:
I blinked, my brain too fried to process her energy. “Azalea? What are you doing? And what is that smell p>
“Shepherd’s pie,” she announced, beaming. She hooked her arm through mine before I could take a step toward my door. “And it’s not for us. Well, maybe a little for us if we’re lucky. But mostly it’s for the new neighbor p>
I stopped dead, digging my heels into the carpet. “New neighbor? Unit 4A has been empty for months p>
“Not anymore!” Her eyes sparkled with a mischief that should have warned me. “Someone moved in this afternoon. And according to Pack tradition — which I know you ignore, but I don’t — we have to welcome him p>
“I am tired, Azalea,” I groaned, trying to pull my arm free. “I spent all day staring at blueprints and arguing with a car. I don’t want to make small talk with a stranger p>
“Oh, come on, Adella,” she chided, her grip surprisingly strong. She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I saw him moving boxes. He’s tall, dark, and definitely an unattached Alpha. It’s our duty to make him feel welcome before some she-wolf from the Silvermoon Pack sinks her claws into him p>
“I don’t care if he’s the Alpha King himself,” I snapped, but she was already dragging me across the hall. “Azalea, stop! I look like a mess p>
𝗪𝗲𝖾𝗄l𝘺 𝘳𝗲𝗅е𝖺𝗌еs 𝗈ո.с𝗈𝗆
“You look delicious. Now hush p>
She raised her fist and pounded on the sleek black door of Unit 4A.
I held my breath, praying no one would answer. I just wanted to go to my den, curl up, and forget the world existed.
The lock clicked — a heavy, expensive sound.
The door swung inward, and the air in the hallway instantly changed. The oxygen seemed to vanish, replaced by a scent so potent it buckled my knees — ozone, petrichor, and the sharp masculine tang of cedar. The smell of a storm about to break.
My eyes traveled up. And up.
Standing in the doorway, filling the frame with broad shoulders and corded muscle, was Dallas Marshall.
He wasn’t in his usual three-piece armor. He wore a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest like a second skin and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He looked dangerous. Domestic, but dangerous — like a wolf pacing in a cage.
My jaw dropped. “Dallas p>
His dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “Adella p>
“What… what are you doing here?” I stammered, my brain misfiring. “You live in a penthouse. A palace in the sky. Why are you in Unit 4A p>
Dallas didn’t blink. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his massive arms. “Termites p>
I stared at him. “Termites p>
“Mutant termites,” he elaborated, his face perfectly deadpan. “They developed a taste for imported mahogany and are highly allergic to cedar. The exterminators said the penthouse is uninhabitable for the foreseeable future p>
Silence stretched through the hallway, thick and awkward.