Chapter 57

I kept my shoulders straight as I walked down the main hallway of the Pack House beside Richard, Elsa trailing behind us like a lioness stalking prey. My palms felt clammy, and I rubbed them against my skirt when I thought no one was looking. But of course, she noticed.

"Everything all right?" Elsa asked, her voice all sugar. "You look pale. Overworked?"

"I'm fine," I bit out, refusing to meet her eyes.

Richard's gaze flicked between us. He tried for neutral, but I could see the warning in the set of his jaw. "Let's focus on the meeting."

We walked in silence for a few seconds. Elsa's heels clicked with precise, infuriating rhythm. I could feel her watching me, assessing, dissecting. She shifted closer to Richard deliberately, and he angled slightly away from her, almost unconsciously putting himself between us.

"You're sure you can handle this briefing?" Elsa murmured to me, pretending it was concern. "I wouldn't want you getting overwhelmed in front of the council again."

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw popped. "Thanks for the advice," I said, voice brittle. "I've done this before."

Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course."

Richard stopped dead. The hallway emptied around us, aides scurrying away like mice sensing a cat. He turned to Elsa, his voice dangerously calm. "Enough."

Elsa blinked, wide-eyed, all faux innocence. "Richard—"

"You don't get to talk to her like that," he said. His voice was low, tight with restraint. "Ever."

The silence was thunderous. My heart slammed in my chest. Elsa looked at him, then at me, then back at him, and something cold and ugly flashed across her face.

"I see," she said softly. "So it's true, then."

"Don't," Richard warned.

She arched an eyebrow. "What? That you're protecting her because you think with your dick instead of your head? That the entire House knows she's been living in your room?"

I actually staggered back a step like she'd struck me. Richard growled, a real, deep-chested sound that made every hair on my arms stand up. "Watch it."

Elsa's lips twisted into something cruel. "Well. Good to know where I stand here. I won't interrupt your...private conversation."

She turned on her heel and stalked away, heels tapping like gunshots.

Richard exhaled hard. His hands shook at his sides. I pressed myself against the wall, breathing shallowly, trying not to scream.

"You didn't have to do that," I managed finally. My voice cracked.

He turned on me, eyes blazing. "She was trying to humiliate you. In front of everyone."

"She humiliated you, too," I said bitterly. "Or did you miss the part where she called me your whore?"

His mouth opened. Shut. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Amelia—"

"Just—" I held up a hand. It was shaking. "Stop. Don't say anything. I can't. Not right now."

He reached for me. I dodged him. My eyes burned. I turned and walked away, fast enough to make my vision blur. I heard him call my name, once. Then nothing.

I spent the next two hours in my office, trying to work. Trying to breathe. My fingers trembled so badly I could barely type. Elsa's words replayed in my skull like a broken record. She's not wrong. I was living in his room. Staff had seen me coming out in the mornings. They'd talked. Whispered. Spread it.

And I'd let it happen. We had gotten sloppy.

Eventually I gave up. I shut the laptop, shoved papers in my bag, and wiped at my eyes with the heel of my hand. Then I went upstairs.

Richard's door was ajar. I didn't knock. I just walked in.

He was standing at the window, back rigid, staring at nothing. He didn't turn when I entered. The room smelled like cedar and soap. Like him. It always did. My throat closed.

I cleared it, forcing the words out. "I'm moving back to my own place."

He didn't move. But I saw his shoulders hitch. "No."

"Richard—"

He spun to face me. His eyes were red-rimmed, wild. "No. Amelia, don't."

I flinched. He caught it and his face crumpled. "Please. Don't go. Not tonight."

I swallowed. "I've already been gone for a few days, and your health has improved so much. We both know we really can't do this anymore, not with Elsa here. She's only going to try harder to catch me in here."

He closed the distance in three strides. He didn't touch me, but he was so close I could feel the heat off his body. "I don't care what they say."

"I do!" I shouted. My voice cracked. "I care. I'm sick of being the rumor. The joke. I'm sick of hearing them say I'm in your bed because I want power."

He winced like I'd slapped him. His hands hovered at my elbows, not quite touching. "You know it's not true."

I sobbed once, harsh and ugly. "But they don't. And you never say anything. You never deny it. You just let them talk."

He did touch me then. Gripped my arms tight enough to bruise. "Because if I did, it would just prove them right. Defending you would make you look weaker. I thought, I thought you understood."

I shook my head, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be your weakness."

He made a strangled sound in his throat and pulled me in, crushing me to his chest. I went stiff for a second, then melted, sobbing into his shirt. His arms locked around me like iron. "You're not my weakness," he whispered. "You're the only thing that keeps me strong."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe.

We didn't speak as I packed. I moved like a ghost, folding my clothes into a bag, wiping my eyes every few seconds. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, watching the floor like it would offer salvation.

When I zipped the bag shut, he finally looked up. "Stay. One more night."

I blinked at him. My mouth fell open. "Richard—"

"Please." His voice broke. "One more night. That's all I'm asking."

I sank to the floor. My bag toppled. I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. "I can't."

He slid off the bed and knelt in front of me. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing tears away. "One night. No expectations. No rumors. Just you and me."

I choked on a sob. He kissed my forehead. My nose. My cheeks. Gentle, reverent. When his mouth hovered over mine, I didn't stop him.

Our lips met. Soft, broken, and desperate. He didn't deepen it. Just held there, breathing me in, trembling.

When he pulled back, our foreheads pressed together. "Please."

I closed my eyes. "Okay."

We got ready for bed in silence. He changed in the bathroom. I changed in the corner, back turned, face burning. When he emerged, he looked vulnerable in sweatpants and a t-shirt. No Alpha. Just Richard.

He lifted the blanket. "Come here."

I hesitated. Then crawled in beside him.

We lay facing each other. Our knees bumped. His hand hovered over my hip, then settled. Warm, heavy, safe.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped.

I didn't. Instead I buried my face in his chest and inhaled his scent. His arms closed around me, crushing, possessive.

My wolf whimpered in approval.

We kissed again, deeper and hotter, our mouths hungry, breaths ragged. His hands tangled in my hair, then slid under my shirt to grip my bare back. I moaned into his mouth as he rolled me onto my back, pressing his weight into me.

My legs parted instinctively, his hips settling between them. My fingers clawed at his shirt, pulling it up to feel hot skin. He groaned my name, hands sliding over my ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, making me gasp.

He kissed my throat, nipped my collarbone, one hand pushing under my waistband, his fingers splayed across my hip. I hooked a leg over him, grinding us together desperately, heat sparking low in my belly.

We kissed again and again, messy and raw, grinding hard, our hips rocking together as we moaned and gasped each other's names. His hands wandered over my clothes, caressing my skin, thumbs brushing my nipples until I whimpered.

I wrapped both legs around him, pulling him tight to me, feeling him straining against me, his breath hot and harsh in my ear. He groaned deep in his chest, thrusting against me, both of us losing control, bodies arching, grinding frantically. We clawed at each other's clothes until we were half-undressed, heat and sweat and shaking hands everywhere, right at the edge of giving in completely before he finally broke away with a strangled noise, eyes dark with need, chest heaving.

"Richard," I whispered.

He shuddered. Dropped his forehead to my shoulder. His breath was ragged. "I can't. Not tonight. Not like this."

My fingers stroked his hair. "I know."

He settled back down beside me, gathering me against him. Our legs tangled. Our breathing slowed. My tears soaked his shirt. He didn't care.

"One last night," I whispered into his chest.

He kissed the top of my head. "Never the last. Not if I can help it."

I closed my eyes and willed myself to believe him.