It seemed like there was a live, growling creature in that room between Elliot and me.
I looked at him and saw the worry on his face, as if I mattered. Like he was mine. But I wasn't. Not anymore, and definitely not like Hayley was.
"Why do you care so much about my character, Elliot?" I questioned, my voice quiet but shaking with barely controlled rage. "We're not married." I'm not yours. So what do you care if I mess up my life?
I needed space and air, so I turned to leave. But before I could take another step, he grabbed my wrist with his hand. In the next heartbeat, he shoved me into the wall, and his huge chest kept me there. I hated that his smell, which was like woodsmoke and a storm, yet made me feel something.
I could see the inferno glowing in his golden eyes because his face was so near. He said, "I must have thought too highly of you," with a voice that was as cruel as frostbite. "You're not at all what I thought."
I yelled, "Let me go, Elliot," and pushed him away. "You jerk."
He didn't let go. His grip was strong, tight, and too hot on my skin. I hadn't allowed a man get this near to me in five years. And this—this was not welcome. Not when I could still smell her on him. Hayley.
I could still taste the betrayal, no matter how god-like his face appeared or how powerful his jawline was. I could still picture her lips on his, her lies, and the sweet whimpers that came out of her mouth every time she looked at me.
I attempted to get away, but the smell of him—a stormy smell with a tinge of something flowery—caught me. It hit me like a punch, and I knew he felt it too. That night. That one night five years ago when everything was a swirl of anguish and pleasure, recollection and moonlight.
Elliot stopped moving.
As he breathed in my aroma, his nose flared a little.
A subtle flowery aroma, like my mother's old garden herbs mingled with my own, like wild rose and something that is hard to put into words. For a split second, his eyes fell on my lips, and I could see that pull. That recollection. That want.
But then, just as swiftly, he pushed himself away, as if what he felt had burned him.
He let me go like I was poison, and I staggered back a step, catching myself on the wall. My arms hurt where he held me, and furious red marks were already forming.
I hissed, "Stay the hell away from me, Elliot," as I opened the door.
I didn't care that Hayley would be there with crocodile tears and nicely powdered bruises. I didn't care that everyone would look at me.
But I did care when I stepped outside and saw her already soaking up their sympathy, wearing a flowing new dress like the innocent victim she appeared to be. When I walked by, she looked up, and her eyes flashed with quiet triumph before she averted her face and sniffed softly, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
I joined the crowd as the show started, letting their talking block out my heartbeat. I had to chill off. To take a breath. But the rumors followed me like a group of animals circling.
"I heard she used the name of the Manson heir to get in." "Are you really that desperate?"
"I bet she slept her way through the gates."
"She's just a jewelry designer with no name." Most likely, you can't afford a single gem in this whole place.
Their voices cut into me like claws on bare skin, but I kept going with my head held high, acting like I hadn't heard them. Acting like I didn't feel. The fact was that I had heard worse. Put up with worse.
But the burn was still there.
They didn't know what was really going on behind the masks. They didn't realize that the genuine burglar in this room wore diamonds like chains and had a smile like a snake. They didn't know that the female they were defending was the one who had hurt me in the most savage, primordial way a she-wolf could.
And what about Elliot? The man I used to trust? He couldn't notice it because he was too blind or too busy. Or maybe a portion of him did see it. Maybe that's why he seemed haunted as he peered into my eyes.
But it was too late now. Whatever had been between us was long gone.
And what about the smell of that old night?
It had to stay buried.
I didn't even look at those she-wolves who were whispering. Their comments were like poisonous snakes that slithered behind my back, but my fur was thicker than that. I bent over one of the glass countertops and let my fingers linger just inches from the necklace I had been working on for weeks. The cool silverwork twisted like lunar vines, and the blood-red ruby in the center seemed like a beating heart. My heart, to be honest. I had put so much of myself into that sculpture, and now that it was on display, it sparkled like it was from another universe.
Then her voice burst out, sweet and syrupy, with every word meant to hurt.
"Elliot, I heard we can buy some of the jewelry tonight," Hayley said behind me, her voice full of fake innocence. "And I really like this one. Can you get it for me? It's simply a bit too expensive. "Ten million."
I didn't need to turn around to see where she was pointing.
"That one," she said, her voice dripping with malice, "would look great on me."
"Yes." Elliot's rich voice said, "I'll talk to the manager later," and he didn't seem disturbed.
"Thanks, Elliot!" After Hayley giggled, her body softly clung to his arm. When I looked up from my piece, her eyes were already on me—smug, possessive, and confrontational.
I didn't fall for it. I stood up straight and glanced away from both of them, my eyes appearing to care about the next exhibit even as my pulse beat beneath my skin. I didn't have the energy to waste on small wolves attempting to show their teeth. I came here to enjoy the show and take in the stories and art in the room. But now, with their eyes cutting into me like knives and their chuckles ringing in my ears, the place felt more like a hole.
I was just about to go when I felt it—his gaze on me.
Elliot.
I knew without even looking. His look always hit differently. Like a storm rolling over the plains, full of things that haven't been voiced. The mate pull between us throbbed like a faraway howl, and even though I despised how it made me feel something deep inside me, something old and instinctual, I couldn't deny it.
"Miss Tillman," said another voice, silky and oily. "Let's forget about what just happened." Are you interested in anything at the moment?
I turned to look at John, the wealthy Alpha son who had too much time and not enough soul. He gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes and held out a glass of wine.
"I just want to enjoy the show," I murmured, my lips scarcely moving.
He looked at me too much. "I'll get it for you if you see something you like."
He would, of course. To him, women were like jewelry: things to wear and throw away.
"No, thank you," I said coolly as I walked by him, trying not to breathe too deeply and allow his scent cover my senses.
But he came after me. He followed me everywhere, like a tick hovering over me. Not even acting like they liked the presentations. It's just me. Me only.
Elliot saw it, too.
Before I turned my head and saw the fire in Elliot's eyes, I could feel the change in the air. His jaw was tight, and his hands were balled up at his sides. Alpha tension radiated off of him like heat. He could see exactly what John was doing, and it was making him crazy.
I should have left. I shouldn't have paid attention to either of them. But something deep inside me woke up when Elliot became angry—there was more than just rage underneath it.
It was being possessive.
I despised the chaos between us and hated that he had ever been with someone like Hayley, but I couldn't deny the part of me that responded to him like a flame to oxygen.
Even though Elliot's glare made me feel like prey, I made myself stay calm. He didn't say anything or move toward me. But I could feel it in every part of his strong body—he wanted to tear John apart.
And what's the dangerous part?
A small, cruel part of me wanted him to.