Chapter 115: 115. Desperate
Soren
I heard the thud first.
My eyes snapped open, every muscle in my body snapping taut before my mind had fully caught up. My hand was under the pillow, reaching for the arm of the gun I always kept there, my finger crooking over the trigger as I listened for the next sound.
I’d had enough assassination attempts in the past year to last me through a lifetime, but none had been bold enough to come here. How the fuck did they get past security without triggering the alarms?
A single breath passed.
A faint, female groan came from the balcony. The glass door slid open silently, and the wind brought in the scent of jasmine and vanilla.
The tension in my body eased so fast it almost pissed me off.
What the hell was she doing?
I let my hand fall away from the gun and settled back against the pillows, keeping my breathing slow and even, letting my eyes remain shut.
The soft pad of bare feet hit the marble. I remained perfectly still. I could feel her hesitation and anxiety in the air. Could hear the careful shift of her feet and the rustle of her clothes as she edged closer.
The bedframe creaked as she leaned over my back.
There was a small pause. Then her fingers reached out. They hovered just above the wound on my bandaged shoulder, just above the scorch that throbbed like a living thing. Every breath pulled at the raw wound. Every shift of my body sent fresh fire across my skin. It made it near impossible to function the entire day.
But the heat of her fingers felt like they might cure me. And I yearned for it, thinking, Touch me, Adams. Even if for a second.
Pathetic, my Lycan commented. Take her wrist. Put her on her back. Knot her up with pups and she’ll never leave us again.
I ignored him, even as I felt Maisie’s hesitation, the conflict rolling off her in waves through the bond.
Maisie sucked in a sharp breath, drawing the covers back slowly to see the full length of damage. And then, she began sniffling quietly. "Idiot," she said. "You idiot."
She’d spent the entire day pretending I didn’t exist.
Ignoring me.
Avoiding me.
Walking around the house in that tiny pink shorts acting as though she couldn’t care less whether I lived or died.
And now she was sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night to cuss at me.
My shoulders tensed and Maisie gasped at the sudden movement, pulling her hand back like she’d been burned.
I heard her turn to flee.
No.
My hand shot out and caught her wrist before she could take another step. Maisie screamed as I yanked her forward and she stumbled and fell half on top of me.
I rolled slightly, pinning her beneath me, trapping her against the mattress. "Usually, when women sneak into my bedroom, they do it without clothes."
Her wide, bewitching eyes met mine in the dark. "Get off."
"I plan to," I said, hands bracing on either sides of her head. Her silky brown her tickled my thumb. "Will you help me?"
She frowned. Then put the words together, and the flush that filled her cheeks made something twist in my chest. She was so darned beautiful, it felt like I was catching a glimpse of something truly ethereal. "You’re naked," she accused, like I was some demented bastard who had been waiting for her to sneak into my bedroom and sit on my cock.
Well. That wasn’t too far from it.
"I always sleep naked," I muttered, eyes on her fluttering pulse.
She was so warm under me, I wanted to press her face into her neck and my skin against her. A pleased rattle erupted from my chest, knowing she had spent the entire day at school, smelling like me. She still did.
She must’ve caught the flash of heat in my gaze because her eyes narrowed. "You seem perfectly alright."
My eyes narrowed. "You were worried about me?"
Her eyes widened, then shuttered. "Of course not. I was just ensuring you were in perfect health, considering my life is now linked to yours and your death would automatically lead to mine."
And with that, she slipped out from under me and clambered off the bed.
Leaving.
She was always leaving.
Everyone was always leaving.
My fingers curled into the sheets as she headed for the door. A word formed on my tongue, but I’d be damned if I let it out.
Stay.
When had I ever told anyone that? Never.
Her footsteps halted at the door. "Why did you do that? How could you do that? Jump in front of me like that?" she asked and I despised the genuine anger and confusion in her tone. Like she thought I’d let the fucking idiot hurt her.
Just what did she think she was to me? Dispensable? As-fucking-if.
Only Maisie Adams would be mad that I saved her life. Other women would be on their knees between my legs, sucking my dick as a thanks.
Didn’t women like classic romantic shit like that? Jump in front of a moving car for them? Leap into the flames for them? Die for them? I swore, with every day that passed, I understood Maisie even less.
Maybe it wasn’t too late. You think if I started moaning in pain, she would touch me? Or kiss me? Maybe she’d even stick her fingers into my briefs and stroke me a little. Maybe she’d even straddle me and let me inside her, while confessing how much she loved me.
I shook my head. I wasn’t that desperate. I think.
"Because," I shrugged.
She glanced over at me. Her blue eyes searched mine for a full minute. The air between us crackled with tension, and for a moment, I thought she had something to say.
But she didn’t. The doorknob twisted.
Turned out, I was that desperate.
I pressed my scorched back against the bed, going against Juliette’s warning not to rest on the injury, and I groaned louder than necessary when it felt like a thousand needles ripped into my flesh.
At the sound of my pained grunt, Maisie’s head snapped back and she was instantly running over to my side, her hand flying to grip my thigh mindlessly. "Are you alright?"
My gaze flicked to her hand burning through the sheets tangled around my limbs. The soft pink coat she had on her nails earlier this morning was gone and an image of her half a second away from killing Hayes for touching me flashed in my mind.
It shouldn’t have felt hot, but fuck, it was. I would have fingered her against the hood even if Bastian and Kisten hadn’t shown up to ruin the moment.
And I wondered if it made me a little fucked in the head that in that moment when she straddled and punched Hayes bleeding, I wanted to switch places with him.
Heat rushed to my groin and I hissed sharply.
Mistaking it for another pained sound, the worry on her face deepened and she peered at me with those cursed blue eyes. "Where does it hurt? Show me."
She reached over and her white top brushed against my skin. Her breasts were in my face. Succulent. Her nipples strained against the material.
I groaned again. It wasn’t just that. It was everything. The soft, unguarded expression, her scent in my nose, her voice, those eyes that caught a hold of me and never let go. Her bare legs in those shorts. The pain burning down my spine became almost comparable to the one in my dick.
"Here?" she asked, touching my shoulder.
I shook my head, taking her hand in mine.
And I placed it over my bulging crotch. "Right here."
She gasped in alarm and whacked me across the face with a pillow. "Foolish man."
And then she ran the hell out of my bedroom.
