Chapter 50
Chapter 50:
Her body was rigid in my arms, every muscle pulled tight. She was fighting it — fighting the mate-bond currently singing in her veins, urging her to melt into me.
“Relax, Adella,” I whispered against her skin, my lips grazing the sensitive pulse point below her ear. A shiver racked her frame, a traitorous reaction she couldn’t suppress.
“I… I can’t,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. “This isn’t in the contract p>
“The contract is paper,” I said, tightening my grip and pulling her flush against my chest until I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against mine. “This is reality. You need to get used to this p>
She turned her head slightly, her wide, uncertain eyes meeting mine. I saw the fear there, deep and swimming — but I misread it. I thought she was afraid of the Lycan, of the power I held, of the sheer overwhelming force of our connection. I didn’t see the walls she was frantically trying to rebuild.
I brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Ragnar purred, satisfied for the first time in days. She was here. She was in my arms.
“Get used to what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
I leaned in, my forehead resting against hers, claiming the air she breathed.
“To being mine p>
𝖱𝘦𝖺𝘥 t𝗁𝘦 𝗹𝖺𝗍𝘦𝘴𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝖾𝗇𝗱𝗌 𝗈𝘯.с𝗼m
The air in the dining room had turned into a solid, suffocating weight. Dallas’s forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with my own, tasting of coffee and dark, dangerous promises. To being mine. The words vibrated through my bones, waking up parts of me that had no business reacting to a man who was essentially my captor.
Panic, sharp and cold, pierced through the haze of his intoxicating scent — storm clouds and cedar. It wasn’t the fear of him hurting me; it was the terrifying realization that if I stayed in his arms one second longer, I wouldn’t want to leave.
My voice cracked. I shoved against his chest, the movement abrupt and clumsy.
Dallas didn’t restrain me. He let his arms fall away, though his golden eyes remained locked on mine, heavy with a hunger that made my knees weak. I stumbled back, my hip bumping painfully against the marble table.
“I have work,” I blurted out, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue. “The S&D Design files — the restoration project. I need to sort them p>
I didn’t wait for his response. I turned and fled.
My footsteps echoed frantically across the polished marble of the hall, a stark contrast to the silence of the penthouse. I didn’t stop until I reached the study, throwing myself inside and slamming the heavy oak door shut. I leaned back against the wood, gasping for air, my hand clutching the fabric of my blouse over my racing heart.
From the dining room, a sound drifted down the hallway — muffled, but unmistakable.
A low, dark chuckle.
He was laughing. He wasn’t angry that I had run; he was amused. Like a predator watching a rabbit sprint for a burrow that offered no real safety.