Chapter Twenty-One
DYLAN
Ireached my bedroom, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep.
Caine had stormed off to the east wing, his entire body a sharp line of tension.
Before he’d stepped out of my bubble in the ballroom, there was a split second where he’d looked at peace.
As if his mind had reset and everything was steady.
But his features had hardened again. I’d wanted to trail after him to his room, or for him to come to me.
I hadn’t said a word, leaving it up to him, and for a moment he’d hesitated.
Then he shook his head and marched away, leaving me confused. Hurt.
I hadn’t yet apologised for what I’d said in his office, but until tonight we’d been avoiding each other.
I hadn’t meant it. My hostility had flared, taking over, and guilt had eaten at me since.
Not enough to be the first to yield, though.
Not again. I’d let it fester, stretching to the point of wondering if it was even worth amending.
I’d gone to the party because my stubbornness could affect his position.
I’d wanted to punish him, to punish myself, but I’d sworn to do this for Minnie, so I made an effort.
Except Caine’s eye was on me from the second I’d walked in, his gaze catching my every move, and I’d regretted my decision.
I’d shown up to parade our sham unity, and ended up doubting absolutely everything.
What was happening between us? The closeness, the gifts, the oversharing.
The date that he said wasn’t a date, but was definitely a fucking date—there were fairy lights for fuck’s sake!
I didn’t understand. Caine didn’t want a love match.
At least, that was the impression he’d given in his study, so why was he treating me as if he was open to the possibility?
Why did he have to kiss me?
He hadn’t kissed me before, not on my lips—even when he was in rut—and this wasn’t a peck he’d give his grandma.
It was intense. Brutal. A claim. He’d broken every rule he’d ever lived by and fucked my mouth in front of his entire pack—his trademark self-discipline forgotten.
It was a revolt, a wordless declaration, and it had left me standing there dazed, feeling raw and uncertain, but also so fucking sure.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to let him in.
But I had.
I paced the floor, staring distantly at the carpet.
Caine didn’t want me. He’d made it clear in our contract, in the fact he hadn’t bitten me.
I was clinging to the nice gestures because they were everything I’d always wanted and I was so desperate for any sliver of consideration.
But why was he giving it to me in the first place?
He had thawed, sure, but he wasn’t the type for bold romance and sentiments.
He would leave me alone if there wasn’t something he wanted.
An ulterior motive? Was he just toying with me?
Was it all some sick and twisted revenge for daring to tie him down?
“You’re perfect.”
No. There’d been a shift. We could be living completely separate lives.
The house was big enough, and it was our agreement.
We never had to see each other except for heats and ruts, but we were.
He could carry on with the rest of his existence never speaking to me unless it was absolutely necessary, but instead he spent every second he could in my company.
The former was what I would have preferred.
Or it was in the beginning.
I’d dismissed the obvious attraction between us.
Rejected the pull because I couldn’t fall for a man who’d abandoned me, couldn’t fall for a man who’d taken my freedom without a hint of remorse.
He’d helped us, but wealth and security didn’t erase the rejection and suffering I’d stored in my heart for two years.
Every time he’d looked at me, or acted more cordial, I would bare my teeth and raise my guard, because it was easier than letting myself be sucked in and potentially discarded again.
But he hadn’t abandoned us. He hadn’t known, so why was I so afraid?
Why was I holding back?
For so long, I’d been independent, relying on my own initiative.
I couldn’t afford to let anyone in in case it all backfired.
And yet . . . I wanted to be loved. To have a happy family, a home, for there to be less need to depend only on myself.
I’d never renounce my control entirely, but sharing my burdens, learning how to open my heart and be more trusting would allow me a little peace from constant overwhelm.
I could never have that with Caine.
He didn’t even know what love was.
My hands ruffled through my hair before undoing the top buttons on my shirt.
My fingertips grazed the jewels around my neck, the ones he’d presented to me after our dinner on the coast. They were nothing like the ones he’d bombarded me with before.
Those were a statement, a demonstration of his sickening wealth to the outside world since they would scrutinize every single detail.
These were personal. The stones were dark red, almost black.
The silver base framed my neck like a choker, and chains with teardrop gems hung toward my collarbone at different heights.
Like droplets of blood. It wasn’t elegant.
It wasn’t modest. It was complex and spirited.
It was me.
Despite his stuck-up ways, Caine had accepted who I was from the beginning.
He might not have recognised it himself, or wanted it to be true, but he never tried to change me.
Never forced me into the dynamic I’d expected this to be.
He’d granted me whatever freedoms he could manage within the boundaries of the backward circumstances we were both enslaved to.
I’d already made that realisation, and I’d opposed it.
It would’ve been easier for him to stick to the script, to follow the path I’d imagined, but neither of us would be here if anything was easy.
It wouldn’t be us if we didn’t take the most complicated route possible to draw up any kind of conclusion.
I huffed a laugh. Who was I still trying to convince?
Even if this wasn’t love, I longed for it.
I could be acting on impulse, sacrificing the standards I’d set because I was tired of posing, but I wanted Caine.
With my entire being. There was no point denying it anymore.
I wanted whatever he was able to give, and if all that meant were little notes of affection here and there, the security, the contentment, I’d take it.
It wasn’t what my parents had dreamed of for me, what I’d dreamed for myself when I was a kid, but . . . did it really have to be?
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t effortless.
It was us.
I strode toward the door, my destination being whatever room he’d holed himself up in, my aim to admit everything I’d been suppressing, but as I wrenched it open, I flinched backwards.
“Caine?” I gasped, blinking up at him in the hallway, his hand raised as if he was preparing to knock. My grit faltered. “What are you—”
“I’m sorry,” he cut in. He looked wrecked. His tie was gone, his shirt was unbuttoned down his chest, and his hair was mussed as if he’d been ripping at it.
“What are you sorry for?”
His fist clenched, his gaze veering off to the side.
I waited, holding my breath. “For not admitting to myself sooner that I want you at my side. For every cruelty I’ve subjected you to.
” An unsteady exhale before he glanced up at me, an expression on his face I hadn’t seen.
Regret. “For walking out that door two and a half years ago.”
My eyes widened, my heart beating a thunderous din against my ribcage.
I stepped aside, letting him in. He advanced into the middle of the room, his hand rising to scrub at the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic gesture. I hadn’t seen him so dishevelled before. Angsty. Not without the excuse of his rut, at the very least.
I closed the door and made my way over to the bed, sitting on the edge.
Caine studied me with the same look from the ballroom—hungry, possessive, captivated. He set his jaw and tore his eye away, heading over to the fireplace as if to distance himself from me. He leaned against it, and for a long time, said nothing.
I curled my fingers into the duvet to prevent myself from fidgeting.
“This . . .” He paused, staring into the empty hearth. His voice was as rough as sandpaper. He cleared his throat. “This doesn’t come naturally to me.”
I nodded. “I’ll listen. Whatever you have to say.”
His mouth twitched as if he was chewing over the right words, or figuring out what to say first. He was visibly uncomfortable, but I didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer him an out because I wanted him to feel it.
Not out of maliciousness, but because it was the only way he could conquer it.
I needed to hear him. For him to come to me.
“The day you came back to the Den, asking for my aid to find Minseo . . . the words that left my mouth put the blame on you. They shouldn’t have.
It was my fault, and mine alone.” He inhaled, and released it.
“I might not have known I had a daughter, or how much you had suffered, but I could have figured it out sooner. I could have done more, and for that transgression, I’m asking you to forgive me. ”
My eyebrow shot up, not having expected him to remember the encounter. Not clearly, anyway. “Caine . . .” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I’m not angry at you for that anymore. How could you have done more when you didn’t know?”
He deliberately wasn’t looking at me.