Chapter 70
Chapter 70:
The confession hit me harder than the silver ever had.
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn’t Alpha possessiveness. This wasn’t a business partner protecting an asset.
He was jealous. Not of Liam — but of the years I had spent living a life without him in it.
Dallas straightened up and adjusted his cuffs as if he hadn’t just torn his chest open and shown me the dark, bleeding obsession inside. But the air in the room had changed. The contract lay in invisible tatters on the floor between us, undeniably broken. He wasn’t playing a role anymore.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
By the time evening settled over the Blackwood territory, the silence in the Alpha’s Suite had thickened into something tangible — heavy with unspoken words and the lingering scent of ozone.
𝖩оi𝗇 о𝘂r с𝘰𝘮m𝘂𝗇𝘪𝗍у 𝗼𝗻 gа𝘭ո𝗼𝘃el𝘀.с𝗈𝗆
A nurse had come and gone, leaving a tray of bone broth on the rolling table. It was supposed to be soothing, a nutrient-dense concoction designed by the Pack Doctor to accelerate healing. But to me, it looked like torture.
I stared at the bowl, my stomach rumbling in protest, while the memory of silver burning my esophagus remained far too fresh. Every time I tried to swallow, it felt like broken glass.
Dallas was still there. He hadn’t left the room since Liam’s departure. He sat in that leather chair, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
“You need to eat,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the mattress.
“I can’t,” I whispered, pushing the tray away. “It hurts too much p>
Dallas stood up — fluid, lethal. He crossed the room and pulled the rolling table closer to the bed. Then, to my absolute horror, he picked up the spoon I had just dropped.
He dipped it into the broth, blew on it gently — his breath misting over the surface — and brought it to his own lips. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving mine.
My breath hitched.
In the human world, sharing a spoon was intimate. In the werewolf world, eating from your partner’s bowl, tasting their saliva, was a primal declaration. It was something Mates did. It was a claim.
“Dallas, what are you doing?” I choked out, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Checking the temperature,” he said simply. He took another spoonful, finishing what I had left. “It’s fine. Now try p>
He wasn’t just checking the temperature. He was mixing our scents — telling his wolf, and mine, if I had one, that we were a single entity.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the haze of my medication. This was too real. The jealousy earlier, and now this domestic, possessive intimacy — it was terrifying. I was a wolfless girl with a broken past. I couldn’t let myself fall for a Lycan King who was only contractually obligated to tolerate me.
I needed distance. I needed walls.