Chapter 226
Chapter 226:
Then Azalea let out a bright, musical laugh. She stepped forward and patted his bicep with a familiarity that made my stomach twist. “Oh, Father,” she giggled, shaking her head. “That is the worst lie you’ve ever told p>
The world stopped.
I looked from Azalea to Dallas, then back to Azalea. The resemblance I had never noticed before suddenly screamed at me — the same sharp jawline, the same stubborn set of the mouth.
“Father?” I whispered, the word tasting like ash.
My stomach knotted with confusion and a cold, hollow loneliness. Azalea had a father. A powerful, protective father who would move into a shoe box apartment just to be near her. No — that wasn’t right. He was here for me.
“You knew,” I accused, stepping back. I looked at Dallas, betrayal hot in my throat. “You both planned this. You’re stalking me p>
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Dallas straightened, his casual demeanor vanishing instantly. The air around him grew heavy, vibrating with the power of his Lycan blood. He stepped into the hallway, closing the distance between us.
“It’s called cohabitation, little wolf,” he rumbled, his voice dropping to that gravelly pitch that made my insides melt despite my fury. “Perfectly legal p>
“Legal? You bought the apartment across from mine!” I jabbed a shaking finger at his chest. “You gave me a car that talks with your voice! This isn’t cohabitation, Dallas — this is madness p>
He caught my hand in mid-air. His skin was scorching hot against mine, sending jolts of electricity racing up my arm. He didn’t pull me closer, but he didn’t let go.
“A wolf must guard his den,” he said softly, his thumb tracing the pulse point on my wrist. His eyes were dark, swirling with possessiveness and something that looked terrifyingly like desperation. “And you, Adella — you are where my den is p>
My breath hitched. The raw honesty in his voice disarmed me completely. He wasn’t trying to intimidate me. He was stating a biological fact. To him, this wasn’t an invasion of privacy. It was a necessity.
“Come inside,” he said, stepping back and pulling the door wider. It wasn’t a request.
I looked at my own door — just ten feet away. It felt like miles. Then I looked at Azalea, who offered me a sheepish, apologetic smile before breezing past me into his apartment with the pie.
“The food is getting cold, Adella,” she called out.
I looked back at Dallas. He was waiting, his body taut, as if prepared to give chase if I ran.
I should run. Every logical neuron in my brain screamed at me to run. But the pull — the bond — was a physical tether, dragging me across the threshold.
“I hate you,” I lied, my voice trembling.
“I know,” Dallas replied, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips.
I stepped into the lion’s den.
The door clicked shut behind Adella, sealing us inside the sterile, echoey expanse of Unit 4A. The sound was final, like the locking of a vault.