5. Harper #2
As they passed another door, Dorian's steps slowed almost imperceptibly, and Harper caught him glancing between her and the closed entrance.
The way his gaze lingered, the subtle shift in his breathing, the almost territorial tension that radiated from his large frame—it didn't take much imagination to realize those were his private chambers.
Heat flooded her body at the thought, an unwelcome surge of awareness that made her skin feel too tight and her pulse quicken. The idea of Dorian in that space, perhaps shirtless after a long day of physical labor, that intoxicating scent of pine and cedar—
Stop it.
Harper forced herself to focus on the hallway ahead, on the reason she was walking through this estate in the first place.
But her traitorous body seemed to have other ideas, hyperaware of Dorian's presence beside her, of the controlled power in his movements, of the way he seemed to fill the space around them with an intensity that made the air itself feel charged.
She chalked it up to him simply being an attractive, intensely masculine man.
Nothing more complicated than basic biology.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the strange electricity that crackled between them, or the way his blue eyes seemed to see straight through her to something deeper and more vulnerable underneath.
They finally reached the end of the corridor, and Dorian stopped in front of a door painted soft lavender—a color that somehow managed to feel both youthful and sophisticated. He knocked gently, his large knuckles barely making a sound against the wood.
"Lila, Harper's here for your first session."
Harper appreciated that he didn't demand entry, didn't use his Alpha authority to bulldoze past his sister's boundaries.
In her experience, traumatized teenagers needed to feel some measure of control over their environment, and the simple act of asking permission could make the difference between cooperation and complete shutdown.
Typically, Harper would have preferred meeting in a neutral location—an office, a comfortable common area, somewhere that didn't carry the weight of personal history and emotional baggage.
But she understood the sensitive nature of this situation.
Lila had been attacked, her sense of safety shattered, and pushing her out of her comfort zone too quickly could do more harm than good.
Sometimes healing meant meeting clients exactly where they were, not where the textbook said they should be.
The door opened, and Harper suddenly was looking at a girl who reminded her far too much of herself at that age.
Lila was beautiful in the way that seventeen-year-old girls often were—all potential and promise wrapped in fragile packaging.
But there was something in her blue-gray eyes, a wariness and guardedness that Harper recognized with painful clarity.
The way Lila held herself, slightly hunched as if trying to make herself smaller and less noticeable.
The defensive set to her shoulders. The careful way she assessed Harper's face, looking for signs of judgment or pity or false sympathy.
Broken. Frail. Guarded. A girl who was not sure how to manage these big emotions and complex trauma.
Harper had worn that same expression for years after her stepfather's abuse, had perfected that same careful distance that kept people from getting too close, from seeing too much.
"Lila, this is Harper Lane," Dorian said, his voice gentling. "She's the counselor we talked about."
Harper smiled, keeping her expression warm but not overwhelming. "It's nice to finally meet you, Lila. Would it be all right if I came into your room?"
Lila's gaze flicked to Dorian, and Harper caught the silent communication that passed between them. His slight nod carried the weight of expectation but there was also something softer there, a plea that spoke to how desperate he was to see his sister healing.
"Sure," Lila said finally, stepping back to allow entry.
Harper moved into the room as Dorian quietly closed the door behind her, leaving them alone.
The space was unmistakably that of a teenage girl, but one with exceptional artistic talent.
Drawings and paintings covered nearly every surface—landscapes that captured the wild beauty of the mountain territory, portraits that revealed an eye for capturing emotional depth, abstract pieces that spoke to a complex inner world struggling to make sense of trauma and pain.
A handcrafted window seat drew Harper's attention, its clean lines and perfect joinery speaking to the same skilled craftsmanship she'd noticed throughout the estate.
The cushions were covered in fabric that complemented the room's color scheme, and the whole piece had been designed to take advantage of the stunning view of the mountains beyond.
Dorian made this for her.
The realization hit Harper with unexpected force.
This powerful Alpha had taken the time to build something beautiful and personal for his sister.
The image of those large hands carefully measuring and cutting and sanding wood until it was smooth made Harper's traitorous body respond with a delicious warmth.
He's good with his hands, she thought before she could stop herself, then immediately forced her attention back to the task at hand.
Lila moved to the window seat and settled there, gazing out at the mountains rather than meeting Harper's eyes directly.
It was a classic avoidance behavior, one Harper had encountered countless times with new clients.
The desire to create physical and emotional distance, to avoid the vulnerability that came with direct eye contact and the possibility of being truly seen.
Harper chose the desk chair, positioning herself far enough away to give Lila space but close enough to demonstrate that she was present and engaged. The balance was crucial—too close and the client felt pressured, too far and they felt abandoned.
"I want to start by telling you a bit about myself," Harper said, settling into the chair with deliberate casualness. "I think it's important for you to feel like you can talk to me and trust me."
Lila continued staring out the window, her shoulders tense.
"I'm thirty-three years old, which might seem young for a therapist, but I've been doing this professionally for seven years now.
I have my own private practice in Oregon, and I also volunteer regularly at a youth community center.
I love helping others, especially kids who are working through difficult experiences. "