Miranda's POV
The sky opened up like my heart did before. The thunder made a loud, angry sound—like it was laughing at me.
I walked in the rain, soaked all over, hugging myself. My shoes splashed in puddles I couldn't see. I didn't care. My face was wet, not just from the rain. My tears were there too.
"Stupid," I said. "Why are you crying? He doesn't care."
I tried to wipe my face,but my hands were also wet from the rain. I was angry and felt small. My heart wouldn't stop hurting.
I was lost. Not physically, but emotionally. I didn't understand why everyone I wanted rejected me.
Colton had looked at me like I mattered, like I was more than someone bought. He had touched my hand. His eyes had stayed on mine.
Then he pushed me away like I was nothing.
Why did I care? I was just a servant. Bought to serve him. Why was I feeling this way?
I touched my chest, hoping the pain would go away.
The thunder roared as my feet touched the packhouse doors. I was lucky to not have been close to the gates as the lightning struck.
I almost jumped out of my skin and rushed to get in. I opened the door and quickly cleaned my face like anyone would even see me.
I shivered from the cold even when the warmth greeted me.
Then the lights went out.
I screamed out loud, from shock. My voice echoed in the hallway.
"Okay," I whispered to myself, breathing fast. "It's fine. Just the lights. Just the storm."
The hallway stretched out, dark. I knew the way. I had walked here many times. But now, every sound from the floor felt like footsteps that weren't mine.
Nope. I wasn't staying.
I walked faster, my heart beating hard. Then I heard it—real footsteps, too heavy and steady to be mine.
Fear hit me like a push. I ran.
Then I ran into something strong and warm. Arms held me before I could scream again.
"Miranda," a voice said near my ear.
Colton.
I froze in his arms. I could feel his heartbeat on mine. Fast. Hard. Alive.
He moved me back gently. He guided me as we climbed the stairs then I heard a click and the door closing behind us. I stumbled and crashed on his body.
His jaw moved, but he didn't speak. The lights came back on with a quiet sound, lighting everything.
My eyes trailed around and I realized I was in my room. How could he locate my room? Oh shoot. He stayed in the next room and this was his packhouse and home.
If course, he would be able to tell which room was which.
And then I saw his eyes—dark, strong, hard to read.
We stood too close. I could feel his breath. I could feel the heavy feeling between us, like it was alive.
"You're all wet," he said, looking away.
"No surprise," I said, hugging myself tighter.
He kept quiet and moved to the drawer and pulled out a towel.
"Sit," he ordered.
I sat, but I didn't feel calm inside. He knelt in front of me with the towel.
How he cleaned me without his hands touching my skin amazed me. Or was he avoiding me?
Every move was slow, gentle, and close.
His fingers came close, close enough to make my skin feel hot. His smell was around me. I loved his scent.
"Why were you crying?," he asked. His voice was surprisingly rough.
I looked away.
"You think I didn't see that?" he asked again. "One bad thing about having a wolf is You can hear everything and smell it too."
My chest felt tight and I let it out. "Why do you always send me away?"
He stood, then answered. "Because I had to."
"Had to? Or it's because I'm a slave, right?"
He moved like I had hit him.
I stood too, trying to stay strong even though I shook. "Why do I feel like you come to me and then push me away. I don't understand it. I'm confused."
He remained quiet and I didn't want that.
I stepped closer. "Talk to me, please. I feel...so miserable. Do you hate me that much? Are you going to send me away?"
He didn't move. Just stared. And the longer he did, the faster my heart beat.
I reached out, needing to break the tight feeling, needing something real.
But right when I touched his arm, I sneezed—hard.
He blinked, like the moment broke. "You're not well."
"Isn't that obvious," I said, amd rubbed my nose, feeling small.
He moved again and grabbed another towel from the drawer before returning to dry my hair, more softly this time, like I might break.
That was worse. That soft touch. It broke me inside.
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Just checking she's safe," Axel's voice said.
"She's with me," Colton said without moving.
A pause. Then Axel again, softer. "Okay. But... why lock the door?"
Colton didn't move. Just kept staring at me.
"Go to your room," he said. "Or I'll make you lie down myself."
Axel said something through the door.
"I can hear you," Colton said, voice sharp.
The footsteps went away.
I swallowed. My room felt too small.
His scent filled my nose and I wanted him to do something.
He didn't move and just watched me, breathing slowly and calmly.
Then—lightning flashed outside, showing everything for a second.
And in that flash, I saw it. Felt it.
The pull.
It moved between us like heat. Like a string. It felt right and I didn't hold back anymore. I would worry about the consequences later.
My breath stopped. So did his.
We stood still for a second. Then two.
Then I said, very softly—"Please."
His eyes got darker. Not with anger, but with need.
And he moved closer. His hand went to my waist. My hand touched his chest, urging him to continue.
Then his lips touched mine.
It was long. Warm, messy and good.
And I wanted more.