Chapter 47 Intimacy
Aelira’s POV
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“Now you’ve settled one of your debts to me,” Daelor comments, a sparkle
in his silver–gray eyes.
There’s something in his tone that makes me hesitate. What debt is he
referring to? Then it hits me: our agreement after he assisted me with the
mate bond severance–I had promised to meet his grandmother.
“Ah, our arrangement for mutual aid,” I respond while I gather up the
leftover medical supplies. “When do you want me to visit Elowen?”
Daelor leans back against the kitchen counter, a movement that
accentuates the defined muscles of his bare torso. I quickly direct my gaze
away.
“Are you still concerned I might sell you to pack hunters?” he jests, his tone
lighthearted.
I glance up, unsure how to reply to his teasing. I’m awkwardly holding a
moonflower–soaked cotton swab in mid–air.
“I’m just teasing, Aelira,” he clarifies, his expression softening. “I wouldn’t
do that to you.”
“I know,” I reply quickly, feeling relieved. “So when are we visiting your
grandmother?”
“This weekend,” he answers. “We’ll head out Saturday morning to Nightshade Pack territory and return Sunday afternoon. Does that work for
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Chapter 47 Intimacy
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“This weekend?” I echo, taken aback by the immediacy. “That’s just two
days from now.”
“Is that an issue?”
I shake my head. “No, that should be perfectly fine. I have no plans.”
Once I finish with his bandage, a comfortable silence envelops us. Sunlight
floods through his floor–to–ceiling windows, casting a warm glow across
the living room.
I become aware that Daelor is observing me intently with his silver–gray
eyes. To dissolve the awkwardness, I look down, feigning a search for something in the first aid kit.
“I need to locate some silver–infused gauze to complete the bandaging on
your wound,” I whisper.
In an instant, he inches closer. His warm breath brushes my ear, infused with his unique Alpha scent–cedar, crisp mountain air, and an essence
that’s unmistakably his own.
“It’s in the side pocket,” he murmurs softly.
A surge of electricity courses through my body. My ears flush, and my wolf awakens beneath my skin, oddly tuned to his presence. Instinctively, I lean back, forgetting I’m seated on the edge of the couch.
I feel my balance slipping, tipping backwards. In a flash of panic, I reach
for anything to hold onto.
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A powerful arm encircles my waist, pulling me sideways. We tumble together, landing with me beneath him on the couch.
Our breaths intertwine, his formidable Alpha pheromones surrounding me.
I gaze up, locking eyes with his silver–gray gaze, now shadowed with a feeling I can’t quite place. My hand rests against his solid chest, sensing
its firmness even through his shirt.
The atmosphere is charged with tension. Surprisingly, my wolf remains calm in the presence of another Alpha. In fact, she appears almost… con
tent.
“Daelor, you’re crushing me,” I implore, attempting to shatter the peculiar
spell that binds us. “Please get up.‘
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He stays motionless. His long lashes create shadows on his cheeks as he gazes down at me.
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“Little healer,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that resonates with my
wolf.
The air buzzes with unspoken words. He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin. Instinctively, I turn my head away, shutting my eyes.
One second passes. Then two. Three.
Nothing occurs.
When I open my eyes, he is smiling, amusement flickering in his gaze.
“You’re applying pressure to my wound,” he observes, glancing at the spot
where my hand rests against his bandaged arm.
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A wave of mortification rushes over me. I scramble to get up, nearly
colliding heads with him in my urgency.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright,” he reassures me, sitting up with effortless grace. “Though you
may have reopened it.”
Horror washes over me as I examine his bandage. Indeed, fresh red begins
to seep through the white gauze.
“I’m truly sorry,” I repeat, feeling completely inadequate. “Let me take care
of it.”
I hurriedly gather new supplies, trying my best to ignore the heat blooming
in my cheeks. Every item I touch seems to crash loudly in the stillness of
the apartment.
“Are you in pain?” I inquire while peeling away the stained bandage.
When I glance up, I find him observing me, a tender smile softening his
typically daunting features.
“It would take more than this to hurt an Alpha wolf,” he assures me. “It’s
merely a scratch.”
Clearly, this is more than just a scratch, but I don’t contest it. I cleanse the
wound again, realizing it’s deeper than I initially realized.
“This may require stitches,” I murmur, applying fresh moonflower salve.
“Just finish the bandaging,” he instructs. “It will heal.”
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As I wrap the silver–infused gauze around his arm, I can’t shake the
recollection of that previous moment. The weight of his form on mine. The
intensity in his gaze. The peculiar sense of completeness my wolf had
experienced.
My embarrassment intensifies even more. What is wrong with me?
“I’m finished,” I declare, hurriedly bundling up the medical supplies. “Keep it dry and change the bandage tomorrow.”
Without waiting for his reply, I almost sprint from his apartment, clutching the first aid kit to my chest like a protective barrier.
Back in my own place, I lean against the closed door, my heart pounding. I head to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, attempting to
soothe my hot cheeks.
What just occurred? That moment, pinned beneath Daelor on the couch,
keeps replaying in my thoughts. The most perplexing part is my wolf’s
response. Instead of feeling endangered by another Alpha’s closeness, she
appeared oddly calm.
“Get a grip, Aelira,” I scold myself. “This is all Oriana’s fault with her
incessant teasing about Daelor having an interest in you.”
I steer clear of Daelor for the subsequent two days. Whenever I hear
sounds in the hallway, I glance through the peephole to ensure the way is clear before stepping out of my apartment.
On Friday morning, I am finally on my way to work at Verdant Moon when
Daelor’s door swings open just as I arrive at the elevator.
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“Are you avoiding me, little healer?” he queries, his tone playful yet his gaze
sharp.
“What? No, certainly not,” I respond poorly. “I’ve just been swamped with
work.”
He laughs, clearly unconvinced. “Need a lift to Verdant Moon?“?
“It’s only a five–minute drive,” I remind him.
“Then I won’t be taking up much of your time,” he counters smoothly.
I can’t come up with a courteous way to decline, so I nod. “Thank you.”
In the car, he brings up our upcoming trip. “Have you packed for the
Nightshade Pack territory? We depart early tomorrow.”
“We are only staying for one night, right?” I ask, attempting to sound
nonchalant. “I’ll pack tonight.”
1
Upon arriving at Verdant Moon Herbalists, I notice several colleagues
exchanging excited glances as Daelor’s luxury vehicle pulls up. Great. More
rumors about us are sure to arise.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, quickly getting out of the car before he can
respond.
Once inside, my manager approaches me immediately. “Aelira! Just the
person I wanted to see.”
“Good morning,” I reply. “Is everything okay?”
“Quite the opposite,” he beams. “Your moonberry–infused remedies for
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pregnant werewolves are receiving outstanding feedback. They’re
becoming quite popular among elite packs.”
“That’s fantastic,” I say, genuinely happy.
“In fact,” he continues, “Cyrinne Wynthor’s representative called this
morning. They want to sign you as Cyrinne’s exclusive herbal remedy
provider for her healing practice.”
My smile freezes. “Cyrinne Wynthor wants me to work with her?”
My manager nods enthusiastically. “It’s a tremendous opportunity! Her
healing practice is the most prestigious in the Northern Territory.”
“I’m sorry,” I respond firmly. “But my answer is no.”
His expression dims. “But Aelira, this could really elevate your career. May I
ask why you’re turning it down?”
“Personal reasons,” I state, unwilling to give more details. “Please decline
the offer or find someone else. I want nothing to do with Cyrinne Wynthor.”
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