Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“Iam Rapunzel.”
Caleb kicks off his shoes and pushes the front door shut behind him. He was only gone for twenty minutes, but he looks stressed. He has been slipping outside to meet with shifters with increasing frequency. I know it’s because of HPAW.
Those fuckers promised to lay low for my first few weeks here. I should be getting to know Caleb and winning him over, and they’re distracting him. I can’t fathom why. Something must have changed.
“Rapunzel?” he asks.
I hold up the book I found on his bookshelf. Twenty minutes isn’t enough time to search his upstairs home office, but it was enough to examine his living room. I stumbled upon a children’s book. I read about Rapunzel. I resonate with her.
Caleb points to my head. “Your hair is much too short, and she’s a blonde.”
“She’s a woman who has been imprisoned inside a tower by a witch.”
That’s how I feel. It’s been several days since Caleb brought me to his office. Four, to be exact. It’s been four long days of doing nothing with Caleb. I’m trapped inside his house, apparently because I need to rest and recover.
“Are you calling me a witch?” Caleb asks.
“Yes.”
Caleb shakes his head with a laugh, his eyes crinkling.
There’s something enjoyable about making him laugh, about knowing I’m the direct cause of it.
It’s almost satisfying. I’ve never felt that way with any of the other men I’ve been with, and I’m choosing to blame the bond. I love blaming the bond.
“We have an appointment with Greg in two hours,” Caleb says. “He’ll remove your cast and examine your ribs. If everything is looking good, I promise you’ll be free to explore the pack lands at your leisure.”
Caleb cares too much about what Doctor Greg thinks. I like the man and all, but his warnings have gotten on my nerves. I know my body better than anybody else, and I feel fine. I’ve sustained injuries worse than this and lived to tell the tale.
“You don’t need his permission,” I argue.
“Of course not, but I value his opinion.”
I’m going to rip out my hair. Caleb has the nerve to laugh.
“I know this week has been challenging for you,” he starts, “but I promise you’ll have your freedom soon.”
I sure fucking hope so. I’ve learned all I can learn from Caleb in this setting.
It’s hard to ask probing questions when we’re sitting around his house.
They seem unnatural and draw suspicion, and I need new excuses to pry.
If he brings me outside or to his office, I can use what I observe as reasons to dig deeper into the dynamics of his pack.
If Doctor Greg doesn’t clear me today, I’m going to throw a fit.
I raise my arms over my head, loving the stretch. Water pours over my face. That feels incredible, too. I’ve been limited to baths, and this shower is everything I’ve ever needed.
Doctor Greg said I’m healing exceptionally well, and he removed my arm cast. My ribs are looking good, too, and the cut on my forehead is a thing of the past. My bruises are almost gone, only hints of yellow remaining. I’m starting to look like me again. It feels good.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Caleb asks. He’s fretting.
He’s standing two feet from the shower door, trying his hardest not to peek through the glass. He’s pointedly staring at the ground. He hasn’t touched me since that first night, not intimately, and it’s time to change that.
I intend to win Caleb over with whatever means necessary, and with HPAW making moves in the background, I don’t have time to waste. Sex is the easy answer.
“Ev?” Caleb approaches the shower door, his eyes flicking upward to meet mine. “Your heart is racing. Are you dizzy? Faint?”
I turn around, ignoring him.
He groans. “Evelyn.”
My lips curl. I like his fretting more than I’d care to admit. It makes me warm and tingly inside, which is dangerous. I shouldn’t let myself feel any soft emotions toward Caleb. It will end poorly.
I rinse out my hair, then face Caleb again. He’s glaring into the shower, but his expression softens as he takes notice of my teasing smile. I don’t try to hide my bare skin from him, and I flush as his gaze momentarily dips. He can’t help himself.
“You can look,” I assure him.
He hums, the sound barely audible over the running water. “I shouldn’t.”
“I’d like you to.”
This time, he groans. “Evelyn…”
“Look at me, Caleb.”
For the first time in days, he does. He lets himself see me, and he lingers.
I wish I knew what he was thinking. Even more than that, I wish I could see him.
I’ve caught glimpses here and there, a flash of skin while he’s changing in his closet or the outline of bare, muscular thighs when he checks in on me in the middle of the night.
He sleeps in only underwear, and he doesn’t bother putting on pants when he makes his late-night visits.
I think I overheard him pleasuring himself last night. He sleeps in the room beside mine, and I swear I heard a moan. I only heard it once, and it was quiet, but it was enough to set my skin aflame.
Caleb inches closer to the shower.
I pull open the door. “Would you like to join me?”
“Yes.”
I raise a brow. “Will you join me?”
“No.”
“And why not?” I cross my arms, careful not to apply too much pressure to my ribcage. I’m feeling better, but I’m not fully healed. “We’re mates, Caleb. From what I’ve gathered this past week, that means you should be jumping at the opportunity to shower with me.”
Doctor Greg yelled at him today. My lips twitch at the memory.
Caleb looked like a little boy, his head hung low and his hands clasped behind his back.
He should’ve lied when Doctor Greg asked if I’ve been engaging in any strenuous activity.
I had my clit rubbed while soaking in a bathtub.
It was hardly strenuous, and it was several days ago. It wasn’t worth mentioning.
Caleb steps back. “I really shouldn’t.”
I tighten my grip on the door. “The floor is awfully slippery….” I sigh, sliding my foot along the ground. “What if I fall?”
I’m desperate to see Caleb’s body and, even more than that, I’m desperate to feel it. I’m pretty sure I might die if I don’t get it soon. Maybe I should feel ashamed for how eager I am to be with Caleb, but I’m choosing to blame the bond.
I’ve never felt this needy.
Caleb smirks. “You can’t trick me into showering with you, Ev.”
“I’m not lying,” I lie, dragging my foot along the shower floor. It squeaks.
Caleb finally wavers, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. Yes. He toys with the fabric, working it between his fingers. He knows I’m lying, but I’m giving him a great excuse to join me in the shower. I know he wants to.
Caleb sighs, then yanks his shirt over his head. I step back, victorious. He hooks his thumbs into his bottoms and shoves them down his legs. His underwear is quick to follow.
Magnificent.
His cock is hard, and it bobs as he steps into the shower. The space is tight, and he places a steadying hand on my waist as he finds a spot for himself. I take this time to admire every inch of him. He’s so much more than the other men I’ve been intimate with.
He’s taller. Wider. Stronger. He’s just so fucking masculine. I lean in, wanting to be closer. Caleb allows it, bringing his other hand to my waist.
We stand before one another, no words spoken as we look.
Is Caleb pleased with my body? It’s an intrusive thought I’ve had several times.
Shifters are taller, and they tend to carry more muscle.
I don’t consider myself weak, but I have a leaner frame.
My dark hair and brown eyes are my most significant similarity to the shifters, but that’s about it.
“You’re not how I thought you’d be,” I admit, breaking the silence.
Caleb cocks his head to the side. “What did you expect?”
I shrug. “I thought you’d be violent. I knew mate bonds were important to shifters, but I assumed our relationship would be more—I don’t know—unequal. I thought you’d think of me as an object to own. A possession.”
“Fucking humans.” Caleb practically growls the words. “Your government has done an excellent job villainizing us. They make us out to be aggressors, and it’s all lies. We don’t harm humans without reason. We never have.”
I frown but don’t argue. Caleb’s lying, but that’s not an argument I’m looking to have right now. I’ve seen firsthand evidence of the shifter attacks. Hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent humans have lost their lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Shifters are aggressors. They always have been, and they always will be.
Caleb licks his lips. “Do you think we’re bad people?”
Water pours down his chest, pouring in thick rivulets toward his waist. He’s not as hairy as I anticipated.
I feared he’d be covered in it. It would make sense, considering the animal he transforms into, but his body hair is pretty average.
There’s a smattering across his chest, and a thick trail leading from his belly button to his pubic hair.
Are all shifters like this? I suspect Caleb won’t be pleased with me asking about the pubic and body hair of other shifters.
“Do you?” Caleb urges. “Do you think we’re bad people?”
“I don’t think you’re a bad person.” The words feel suspiciously close to the truth.
Caleb’s responding smile is a bit crooked, and it practically oozes relief. It shifts into something softer as he leans in for a kiss, and my eyes slip shut as he finally presses his lips against mine.
For a man who has never kissed a woman, he’s sure good at it. He angles his mouth against mine, almost immediately deepening the kiss, and he moans as our tongues meet. I’m dying for more.
I grab Caleb’s shoulders, not caring if he can sense my desperation. My fingers curl around his muscles, feeling them before sliding to the back of his neck. Caleb moans again, the sound shifting into a groan as I weave my fingers through the short hairs at the back of his head.