MILLIE BROWN

A voice startled me. "I know you're awake."

I froze, hoping that if I stayed still, he'd take the hint and leave. No such luck. Instead, I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me.

"Stop being silly," he said, lightly thumping me on the head.

I snapped my eyes open, glaring at him. He sat there with that smug grin of his, completely unfazed.

"I'm seriously tired of seeing your face," I muttered, pushing myself up. Every movement sent sharp pains through my ribs and back, but I ignored them.

He reached out to help me, but I jerked away. "I'm fine."

His touch, his closeness—it all brought back that image of him in his wolf form, charging toward Caelum with a wild bloodlust. The memory made my skin crawl.

"Caelum..." I gasped, the realization hitting me. "What did you do to him?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

His grin vanished. "I'm seriously tired of hearing you say his name."

His tone was like ice. A shiver ran down my spine.

"You monster!" My voice shook as I spoke. "How can you kill people like that? With no remorse? What did he ever do to you?"

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low growl. "He tried to take what was mine."

I froze. What was his? Was he talking about... me?

A surge of anger coursed through me, and without thinking, I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. It hit him square in the face.

"You disgust me!" I reached for another, but he was faster. He caught my wrists, pinning them above my head with ease.

He hovered over me, close but not touching, his gaze burning into mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushing against my skin.

"Your precious Caelum is still alive," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "You made sure of that."

My heart skipped. Was he telling the truth? Did my passing out distract him long enough for Caelum to escape? But if Caelum was alive, why had he left me behind with this... creature?

"You don't have to believe me," he continued, loosening his grip just slightly. "You can check for yourself."

I stared at him, confused. How was I supposed to check on Caelum when he had me practically pinned to the bed?

"Talk to him," he said, his expression unreadable.

"Talk to him? What do you mean?"

"Telepathically. Just focus."

Skeptical, I closed my eyes and concentrated. "Caelum," I called out in my mind. Nothing.

I cursed myself for even trying. But then, there was something—a faint connection, like a signal breaking through static.

"Millie?" Caelum's voice echoed in my mind, weak but there.

"Caelum! Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I—"

"I should've protected you," he interrupted, his tone heavy with guilt.

Tears stung my eyes. Relief washed over me—he was alive. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're safe."

A hand brushed my cheek, wiping away the tears. I opened my eyes, Shane's face inches from mine, his gaze soft for once.

"I hate to see you cry," he muttered, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the absurdity of his words.

"What's your endgame, Shane? You swear you won't kill me, so what do you want?"

For a second, he faltered. "I—I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then why follow me? Why stalk me in Allister?"

His lips tightened. "Because I couldn't stay away."

He leaned in, closer than before, his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Why did you kill my mother?" I asked, my voice trembling with emotion. "Was it because of your hatred for witches?"

The change in him was instant. His eyes darkened, and a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. I tried to kick him off, but he anticipated the move, shifting to pin my legs with his weight.

"I think question time is over," he said, his tone lightening unnervingly. "How about some coffee?"

"What is it with you and coffee? Are you some kind of addict?" I shot back, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled. "So, is that a no?"

"Get off me," I muttered. Denying coffee twice felt almost wrong, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

"Suit yourself," he said, finally letting go of my wrists. He stood and made his way to the door.

I stretched my sore arms, wincing at the bruises that littered my skin. They had been treated—stitched and bandaged.

Did he do this?

"You're leaving me here?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice. "Aren't you worried I might escape?"

"Not really," he said with a smirk. "I can always bring you back."

I glared at him. "You're insane."

"You could come with me," he teased, gesturing to the open door. "The kitchen isn't too far, but I understand if you don't want to be apart from me."

Rolling my eyes again, I slid off the bed and walked toward him. His smile widened.

"After you, fireball."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"I don't listen well," he said with a grin. "Clearly."

He laughed, and to my annoyance, I found myself suppressing a smile. We walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where he immediately donned an apron and tied his hair back.

I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice the way his muscles moved under his shirt, or how his jawline looked even sharper in the soft morning light. He was... infuriatingly attractive.

My stomach growled, and I grabbed an apple from the counter, taking a big bite. Bad idea. I choked instantly, and before I could panic, he was at my side, handing me a glass of water.

"You should've had something warm first," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle as he lifted me onto the counter, settling me there like I weighed nothing. His hands lingered on my shoulders, steadying me.

My hands rested on his shoulders, and I tried to ignore the way my pulse quickened with him standing between my legs.

"Just sit here and wait," he says, his voice soft but commanding. My face heats up from how close he is, his concern etched in every line of his expression.

I don't understand myself. I should hate him, I should feel repulsed at the sight of him. But I don't. Instead, all I can think about is the kiss we shared earlier, replaying in my mind like a broken record.

"Where's Leah?" I ask, my voice breaking the tense silence that has settled between us.

"At the palace," he answers, stepping back, the tension in his body palpable as soon as her name leaves my lips.

"Does she know I'm here?" I look away, the memory of Alex's voice—cold and calculated—flashing in my head, ordering my death.

"No, I don't think so." His response is quick, dismissive as he turns to the sink, hands gripping the edge tightly.

"So you two are, uhm... a thing?" I clear my throat, unsure why I'm asking, why the thought of it makes my stomach twist in knots.

"A thing?" He chuckles, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"You know what I mean. She's your mate, right? So, you're going to get married and everything..." My voice trails off, dread pooling in my chest. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know the answer, but the question left a hollow pit in my stomach anyway.

"I guess the mating ritual is kind of like marriage in your world. Only ours lasts a lifetime. There's no option of divorce." His tone is casual, but it sends a chill down my spine. The permanence of it all, the inevitability, makes my skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Of course," he adds, his voice lower now, more deliberate, "there's always the option of rejecting your mate before the ritual." His gaze locks onto mine, intense and probing, like he's daring me to ask more.

My heartbeat quickens, and I force myself to look away. "Hmmm," I mumble, trying to dismiss the strange energy building between us. I feel exposed under his scrutiny, as if he's stripping away every layer of me with just a look.

"Shit," he mutters, breaking the moment. I glance back at him, noticing the tension etched into his features, a flash of discomfort he tries to hide.

For a split second, I want to ask what's wrong. But that would mean I cared.

You do care, my subconscious mocks, and I push the thought away.

He starts pulling the apron over his head, breaking the silence. "I have to go. Duty calls, fireball," he says, and my chest tightens at his departure. Was I... sad that he was leaving?

"Verran here will take care of you and make sure you don't get any crazy ideas," he adds with a smirk, and I roll my eyes, unsurprised.

Of course, he wouldn't leave me alone.

"Who's Verran?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"This guy," he says, and as if on cue, a handsome man materializes out of thin air. Seriously, was it part of their genetic makeup to look like they were carved from marble?

"Call for him like that, and he'll get you whatever you need," Shane says nonchalantly.

"So, you're holding me hostage, then?"

"I don't like the term hostage."

"Okay then, kidnapping, holding me against my will, restricting my freedom," I offer sarcastically, listing every possible term.

He rolls his eyes at me, but a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he walks closer to the counter.

"Hey," he says, ignoring my taunts, "do you know my name?"

"Shane?" I reply, confused by the sudden shift in conversation.

"Exactly." His voice drops, his expression darkening, a dangerous edge creeping in. "That's the only name you should call in my presence."

The intensity of his words sends a shiver down my spine. My breath catches in my throat, his presence suffocating, his energy overpowering.

"If you miss me," he says with a teasing glint in his eyes, "you can always call for me. I'll come running."

Before I can respond, his voice enters my mind, calling my name through a telepathic link.

"Millie," he says, the echo of it reverberating inside my head. "Just like that." he adds, the connection severed as he turns and walks away, Verran falling into step beside him.

I exhale deeply, clutching my chest as my heart races out of control.

Why did my name sound so good when he said it?

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Guys I'll try to drop a new chapter today, but if i don't then it'll come early tomorrow morning. Thank y'all for your patience and for reading. Don't forget to vote and comment. Love y'all ❤️