Chapter 79
Chapter 79:
The tension in his shoulders broke. A dark, possessive satisfaction flooded his eyes, swallowing the gold until they were nearly black.
“Good,” he growled. “Because I meant every word p>
He didn’t kiss me this time. Instead, he pulled me across the center console and tucked me into his side — a possessive, protective gesture that left no room for argument. I didn’t fight it. I let my head rest against his chest and listened to the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart.
The scent of rain and cedar wrapped around me, stronger than the leather, stronger than the city rushing past outside. It filled my lungs and settled the lingering panic in my blood.
The car merged onto the highway, speeding toward the penthouse. But as I closed my eyes, surrounded by his warmth and his scent, I understood that we weren’t simply returning to a building.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t a defect. I was his. And this man — this terrifying, overwhelming man — was home.
The morning sun sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse kitchen, but it did little to warm the chill that had settled in the room. The air smelled of kale, medicinal herbs, and the heavy, electric scent of a storm about to break — Dallas.
I sat at the pristine marble island, staring down at a glass of thick, sludge-green liquid that Mrs. Higgins had placed before me with an apologetic smile.
“Drink,” Dallas said. It wasn’t a suggestion — it was an Alpha’s command, wrapped in velvet but hard as steel.
𝖳𝗁𝘦 𝘣𝖾s𝘁 𝘳e𝗏𝗂𝖾𝘄𝘀 o𝗻 𝗴a𝗹𝘯о𝗏еl𝗌.со𝘮
He was leaning against the counter opposite me, arms crossed over his chest. The black t-shirt he wore strained against his biceps, and his golden eyes tracked my every movement like a hawk watching a mouse.
“It smells like lawn clippings,” I muttered, wrinkling my nose.
“It’s iron, spinach, and a blood-replenishing compound from the Healers,” Dallas countered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “The silver nearly stopped your heart, Adella. You need to rebuild your strength p>
I took a sip, grimacing as the bitter taste coated my tongue. “I’m fine, Dallas. I don’t need to be treated like an invalid p>
“You’re not an invalid. You’re a target.” He pushed a sleek black tablet toward me. “Your schedule for the day. At ten, the Pack Healer will run a full toxicity screen. At noon, the nutritionist will overhaul your diet. And at two, the armorer is coming to measure you for protective lining in your daily wear p>
I choked on the smoothie. “An armorer? Are you serious? I’m an art restoration specialist, not a soldier. I can’t walk into a climate-controlled archive wearing Kevlar p>
“You will if you want to survive in my world,” he growled, pushing off the counter. He moved with that terrifying, predatory grace, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat and planting his hands on the marble on either side of me, trapping me in his space. “I almost lost you yesterday. Do you understand that? I will not let it happen again p>