Chapter 85
Chapter 85
“Liam’s my boss,” I snap, snatching my phone back but he doesn’t give it as it’s suddenly a ticking bomb. My voice is barely concealing the exhaustion weighing down my chest.
Enoch’s eyes are a fucking storm. Dark. Dangerous. The calm before everything burns.
“Boss?” His tone is calm–too fucking calm–and it sends a shiver crawling down my spine. “What kind of boss texts you at…” He snatches my phone, glancing at the time. “Midnight?”
“Give me that.” I try to snatch it back, but he’s already holding it out of reach. Typical.
“The fuck kind of boss asks how things are going like that?” His jaw clenches so tight I swear I hear his teeth grind. “Is he fucking interested in how you’re doing–or is he interested in you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Enoch!” I throw my hands up, dragging a frustrated breath through my teeth. “Not everything is about some fucking guy trying to get in my pants!”
His gaze snaps to mine, those amber eyes turning molten. “When it comes to you, Taryn?” His voice drops, a deadly promise in every syllable. “Everything is about that.”
Jesus. My heart slams into my ribs though it’s trying to escape.
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” I glare at him, crossing my arms. “I work for him. He’s my boss. End of discussion.”
“Bosses don’t text at midnight,” he grits out, his grip on my phone tightening.
“Maybe he’s just—”
“What?” His eyes narrow, voice dropping to a low growl. “Checking in? Making sure his favorite employee is safe?”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” I’m so close to losing it. “Do you hear how insane you sound right now?”
“Insane?” He steps closer, towering over me. I refuse to step back. “You’re damn right I’m fucking insane when it comes to you.”
And there it is.
That dangerous, possessive edge that makes my knees weak and pisses me the fuck off all at once.
“Enoch,” I breathe, trying to calm my pounding heart. “It’s not like that.”
His jaw clenches, but his eyes flicker with something else. Something raw. Vulnerable.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, and it’s not a threat. It’s a confession.
Fuck.
My resolve crumbles as his forehead presses against mine. His breath is warm, ragged, and I hate how easily he disarms me.
“Stop being a psycho,” I murmur, my voice softer now. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His hand cradles the back of my head, pulling me closer until his lips brush my forehead.
Routine.
Forehead.
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Nose.
And then-
Mouth.
Fuck, I hate how good he feels. How right,
My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close. But I know better. Enoch doesn’t do calm. He’s chans personified, and I’m the idiot who keeps walking straight into the fire,
Idiot Taryn.
I pull back, my breathing uneven. “Enoch…
“Shhh.” He rests his head against my chest, his body pressing into me. His arms tighten around my waist, as if he holds on tight enough, he can keep me from slipping through his fingers.
“Just…” His voice is barely a whisper. “Let me stay like this for a minute”
And I do.
Because despite all his dominance and possessiveness, there’s a broken boy underneath. One who’s been fighting for survival since he was a kid.
My fingers run through his hair, soft and gentle, “What’s wrong?”
His body stiffens for a moment. I think he’s going to brush it off like he always does. But then-
“I wasn’t always like this.”
I blink, my heart skipping a beat.
“When I was a kid,” his voice is so low I have to strain to hear it, “the war fucked me up.” His fingers flex against my back, his grip tightening like he’s afraid to let go. “I watched my family get slaughtered. I hid in a fucking closet while my uncle’s men tore my world apart.”
I stop breathing.
“My wolf…” His voice cracks. “He went into hibernation after that. I didn’t even shift until I was fourteen. Too much fucking trauma. And by the time I did…” He swallows hard. “I was already too far gone.”
My throat tightens, and I instinctively hold him closer.
“I came back wrong, Taryn.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to love without losing control. Without.. .” He trails off, his head pressing deeper against me, trying to drown out the memories.
“Enoch…”
“Don’t.” He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine. They’re haunted. “I just…” He shakes his head, the words dying on his tongue.
“Come here,” I whisper, tugging him back to me. His body melts against mine, his warmth grounding me as I hold him close.
But I can’t stop the doubt creeping into my mind.
Does he love me… or does he just need me to replace that woman?
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Chapter 85
I don’t know anymore.
And that scares the fuck out of me.
I can’t sleep.
Hours later, Enoch’s breathing is steady, his arm draped over me. But my mind is racing, my heart pounding a fucking drum in my chest.
I slide out of bed, careful not to wake him, and grab my laptop.
Sitting on the floor, I open a blank document. My fingers hover over the keys, hesitation clawing at my conscience.
Don’t do it.
But I have to.
I need to know the truth. About my parents. About everything.
And the only way to get to it… is through him.
My fingers start typing.
Enoch Blackwell. The Lycan King who survived.
I pause, guilt weighing heavy in my chest.
Fuck.
I’m a terrible person.
But I keep going. I mean, I’m going to write it in a good light anyway
So, no harm in that, right?
I’m going to fucking kill him.
A groan tears out of my throat as something warm and wet wraps around my nipple. My eyes fly open, the remnants of sleep vanishing as I glance down.
Of course.
Enoch’s head is buried under the sheets, his mouth latched onto my breast like he’s starving, his tongue flicking over my nipple while his teeth graze just enough to make my toes curl.
“Enoch.” My voice is raspy, and I swear the bastard smirks against my skin.
“Hmm?” He innocently hums, but his hand is already trailing down my stomach, sneaking beneath the waistband of my panties.
“Get off, you perv,” I mutter, laughing as I shove at his head.
“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, his lips brushing against my skin as he presses one last lazy kiss to my stomach.
“Five more minutes, my ass,” I snap, swatting his shoulder. “We’re leaving, remember? Maldives? Goodbye? Plane waiting?”
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Chapter 85
“Fine,” he sighs, dragging himself out from under the sheets–a fucking cat who didn’t get his way. His hair is a mess, those sleepy, hooded eyes making my stomach flip. It’s unfair how he looks this good after practically devouring me all night.
He stretches, arms flexing, and I swear my ovaries scream.
This man is a god.
“Stop looking at me like that, Sinclair,” he teases, his voice all gravel and sin, running a hand through his bed hair. His cocky smirk is alive and well, and I hate that it works on me.
“Like what?” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I throw a pillow at his face. He catches it, the bastard, laughing like this is a damn game.
“Like you wanna be late for the plane,” he drawls, voice dripping with that smug, I–just–ate–you–for–breakfast–and–you- loved–it tone.
“Enoch,” I warn, shoving the sheets off me and climbing out of bed before I do something stupid–like let him convince me to stay another night.
But no. We’re leaving.
I grab my clothes, shimmy into them while he lounges, hands tucked behind his head, watching me as though I’m a damn buffet.
“Get dressed,” I grumble, not trusting myself if he stays naked any longer.
“Bossy.” He smirks but finally drags himself out of bed, his movements slow and very fucking much deliberate–he knows I’m watching. And I am. I fucking am.
“Stop showing off,” I mutter under my breath, but it’s pointless. He hears everything.
“You like it,” he murmurs, so damn smug I want to smack him.
“Enoch.”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling on his pants, but the glint in his eyes tells me he’s far from done messing with me.
We finally make it downstairs, and the goodbye to Maldives feels… weird. Bittersweet. The ocean breeze kisses my skin, the scent of salt and sun lingering in the air, and I can’t help but pause on the deck, taking it all in one last time.
“Ready?” Enoch’s voice is softer now, and when I glance at him, I see the same hint of reluctance in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I whisper, but my chest tightens. I’ll miss this place. Miss the moments where everything felt… simple. Where it was just us.
But simplicity doesn’t last in my world.
I take one last breath, locking the memory away as Enoch laces his fingers through mine, grounding me. “Let’s go.”
*
The jet is waiting.
The crew greets us with polite smiles as we board, but something tugs at the back of my mind.
“Shit,” I mutter, suddenly patting down my bag.
“What?” Enoch’s immediately on alert, his body stiffening.
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“My laptop” My eyes widen as I realize it’s not there. “I fucking left it in the room.”
“Where?” His tone shifts, sharp and commanding.
“The nightstand,” I say, already turning around. “I’ll go get it-”
“Sit down.” His growl stops me in my tracks. “I’ll have someone-
“I got it,” I cut him off, already making my way toward the exit.
“Taryn.” His voice is pure warning, but I don’t stop.
“It’ll take two seconds,” I shout over my shoulder. “I’m not helpless, Enoch.”
“Debatable,” I hear him grumble, but I’m already gone.
+68)
The hallway feels too quiet.
The sun’s too bright, the air too still as I approach the door to our suite. I push it open, expecting to see the familiar space we’ve practically lived in for days.
But instead, there’s someone waiting inside.
A cleaning lady.
At least, that’s what she looks like.
But my stomach twists the second I see her.
She’s standing by the bed, her back to me, but something feels… off. The way she’s standing, too stiff, too aware.
“Uh… I left my laptop,” I say, keeping my tone light.
She turns slowly, too slow, and when our eyes meet, my instincts
A smile curls on her lips–wrong. Too sweet. Too practiced.
scream.
“Here” She holds up my laptop, her fingers brushing the surface. “Thanks…” I step closer, but the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Why does this feel so wrong?
I take the laptop, my fingers brushing hers, and that’s when I feel it.
Cold.
Her skin is ice. Not normal. Not human. She’s a werewolf, not someone I’d expect here in Maldives.
“Be careful,” she murmurs, her smile never wavering, but her
eyes..
her eyes tell a different story.
My wolf stirs, restless, and a chill races down my spine.
“Thanks,” I say again, forcing a smile before backing toward the door.
Get out. Get out now.
I turn, walking away as casually as I can, but every step feels heavier.
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And then-
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she calls out, her voice echoing down the hall.
I freeze.
My heart pounds, but I don’t look back. I don’t fucking dare,
I just keep walking, my fingers gripping the laptop as my lifeline,
Because I don’t need to look to know
Something’s coming.
And I’m not ready for it.
