Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Kayden
Less than an inch separated us.
Her breath hit my lips, warm and sweet. I could see every lash framing her eyes, the amber glow beneath those blue contacts.
Layla. My Layla.
She was burning up, just like me. Her skin radiating heat through the dress, her muscles tensing when she trembled, her ragged breathing as she tried to stay composed—everything told me her body remembered me.
The bond I'd severed with my own hands was trembling violently now.
I felt it reaching out from deep in my soul, cautious, tentative, searching for the other end. The rupture from seven years ago had left vicious scars. Every time I'd thought of her these past seven years, that wound tore open again.
But now, with us this close, the broken edges grew hot, trembling. Those severed threads seemed alive, desperate to reweave, to heal.
"You psycho..." Her face flushed pink, hands weakly pushing at my chest, eyes flashing with stubborn defiance.
Beautiful.
My wolf surged, igniting with desire. It urged me closer, closer—mark her! Claim her! Taste her sweetness, make her unable to deny us again!
"Why, thank you." I locked onto her eyes, ensuring she couldn't escape.
I tightened my grip, swallowing the last bit of distance.
Her body pressed fully against mine, soft and warm.
I felt her chest rising and falling, felt her trembling, felt her heartbeat through two layers of fabric.
And her scent—I'd dreamed of it countless times, and now it surrounded me, making me achingly hard.
Layla whimpered softly at the pressure. That forced bravado peeled away like an orange, finally revealing the juice-laden fruit within.
My mate couldn't resist me.
The knowledge deepened my possessiveness. Her eyes gradually unfocused, those cold blue eyes pooling with tears like a rippling lake. My hand traced up her waistline, stopping at her shoulder blades. Through the thin dress, I found her bra strap.
"Don't..." she said softly, but it sounded more like a moan than a refusal.
"Why not?" My lips grazed her cheek, my voice so low it seemed to scrape across her skin. "Your mouth says no, but your body..."
My fingers lightly caught her right strap. Layla began trembling harder, her body melting, nestling softly into me.
"Your body's shaking, burning, leaning into me."
"Shut up...!" Layla's voice trembled. "That's just a physical reaction..."
"Is it?" My nose brushed hers, our breaths mingling. "Then why are your eyes on my lips?"
Her face turned scarlet.
"I'm not—"
"You are," I murmured, my lips moving to her ear, breathing against it. "Just like I'm looking at yours."
Snap.
I released my fingers. The taut strap flicked against her shoulder, the crisp sound absurdly intimate in the quiet air.
Layla froze for a moment. In that dazed look, I found a shadow of seven years ago. Suppressed desire surged free.
I cupped her soft cheeks, forcing her to look directly at me, to watch how I reclaimed her.
I ignored her feeble struggles.
I needed this kiss, needed to confirm she was real, needed to feel she was alive—
A shrill ringtone shattered the air.
Right before I could touch her full lips.
Layla jerked awake as if from a dream. She found her strength, shoving me back hard, furiously wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"I didn't even kiss you yet." I raised my hands in surrender, somewhat regretfully. "Don't rub so hard."
She didn't spare me a glance, frantically pulling her phone from her bag. She checked the caller ID, and her face went pale.
"Hello?" She answered, her voice still trembling with fading desire. "What?! What happened to him? Okay, I'll be right there!"
Layla hung up, her face frighteningly white. All the flush from moments ago vanished, replaced by fear and urgency.
"What's wrong?" I asked instinctively.
"None of your business." She said coldly, shoving the phone back in her bag, completely different from the woman who'd melted in my arms. "Move. I need to go."
"None of my business? Then whose business should it be?" Inexplicable irritation flooded me. I blocked her path again.
She was rejecting me. Drawing boundaries. Who was on that call? Who had her concern? Who did she care about this much?!
"Him? A man?" I pointed at her phone, my voice growing forceful, barely concealing my jealousy. "What is he to you? Why are you so worried?"
"A friend? Or..." I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to say the possibility, "Or... your lover?"
Seven years. In seven years, she could have met someone, fallen for someone, left me behind as a past not worth salvaging. If someone had touched her, held her, been with her...
That image—Layla in another man's arms, smiling at someone else, letting someone else kiss her. The sweetness she'd just shown me, her tempting lips and scent, belonging to another.
My wolf roared in fury, nearly breaking free to tear apart anyone who dared approach my mate, even just a phantom presence through a phone.
"Kayden Blackwood!" Layla shouted, backed into a corner, bristling defensively. "This is my private life. I have to go!"
This time, she pushed past me with angry determination, grabbing her skirt and running. She moved so fast, her heels clicking frantically on the floor.
"Layla!" I called after her, but she didn't look back. My body moved before my brain caught up.
Can't let her escape. Not this time.
Seven years ago, I'd watched helplessly as she jumped off that cliff, watched her disappear into the sea. That powerlessness nearly destroyed me.
If I let her escape again, if she disappeared again, if I never found her...
I rushed out after her, bursting from the banquet hall, catching sight of her. Layla was climbing into her car. I felt the urgency in every movement as she kicked off her heels, slammed the gas, and peeled out.
I sprinted to the parking area, jumped in my car, started the engine, and followed at a steady distance.
Layla drove fast, racing through streets, running a yellow light.
She was really panicking.
What could make her this frantic?
Who made that call?
My hands gripped the wheel tightly, possibilities flashing through my mind.
Did she really have someone else? Was there a man waiting for her? Could it be...
These thoughts spread like poison through my brain, making my wolf shake its head restlessly. The accumulated violent emotion needed an outlet. I kept pressing the accelerator harder, my heart pounding with the acceleration.
It hurt. But the pain kept me sharp.
Minutes later, her car stopped at a hospital entrance.
A hospital? Why a hospital?
I slowed down, watching her rush out and practically run inside. I parked further away, waited a few seconds, then followed.
The hospital reeked of disinfectant mixed with sickness and anxiety. I saw Layla urgently asking something at the front desk. The nurse pointed toward the elevator.
She rushed in. I watched the display—third floor.
I didn't follow into the same elevator. I took the stairs instead, taking them two at a time, my heartbeat matching my footsteps.
The third-floor hallway was quiet except for low voices from a distant nurses' station.
I spotted Layla standing outside a patient room door, about to push it open.
I lightened my steps, hiding around the corner—close enough to hear but not be seen.
The door opened, then closed. I waited a few seconds, crept closer, and stopped outside.
"...How is he?" Layla's voice came through, thick with suppressed tears.
"The fever broke." Another female voice answered, probably a nurse or doctor. "Just gave him a shot. He's sleeping now. Miss Ross, don't worry too much. He will be fine."
Child?
My heart clenched violently. I leaned against the wall, forcing myself to stay calm, keep listening.
"But he just collapsed..." Layla's voice trembled. "The nanny said he was convulsing. I-I was so scared."
"We'll know more when the test results come back," the doctor soothed. "Don't worry, he's not in any danger now. Just wait for him to wake up."
"Thank you." Layla sounded exhausted.
Footsteps. The doctor was coming out.
I quickly retreated around the corner, watching a middle-aged female doctor in a white coat exit, shaking her head as she left.
Then I heard muffled crying from inside the room.
Layla was crying.
A powerful wave of helplessness and heartache crashed over me, along with thoughts I couldn't control.
There was a child inside. An unconscious child. Why did he make Layla cry? Was he her...?
My hands clenched into fists at my sides, neatly trimmed nails digging deep into my palms, but I felt no pain. Layla might have a child. The child's father... was she married? Had a husband? She'd said she'd love me forever...
"Evan." I quickly dialed. My eyes were heating up. I could imagine them flickering gold with this deep rage.
"Alpha?" The call connected quickly.
"I need you to investigate someone," I said, eyes locked on that closed door. "Ella Ross. Jewelry designer in Victoria. I want everything on her. Every detail. Whatever it takes."
"Understood." Evan paused. "Alpha, what happened?"
"Highest priority, fastest speed." I didn't answer his question, continuing with precise orders. "Focus on her family situation. Especially her kid."
Evan fell silent briefly before responding. "Copy that. Fifteen minutes."
The door opened. I instantly hung up, stepping out from the corner.
Layla emerged, eyes red and swollen, makeup smeared. When she saw me still standing in the hallway, she froze completely.
"You..." She stepped back twice, her heels wobbling. Her voice trembled, fear flashing in her eyes. "Why are you here?"
I didn't answer. Just looked at her. At her swollen eyes, her pale face, the panic she tried to hide but couldn't.
My expression was blank, my mind settling into unprecedented calm, conveying only one message.
Layla Gray could only be mine.
"Were you eavesdropping?" Layla's voice turned sharp. She pointed at me, overwhelming shame and anger making her brows furrow slightly, devastatingly attractive. "Kayden Blackwood, you followed me and listened in on my conversation?!"
"Yes," I admitted freely, walking toward her. Her anger gave me a dark pleasure—it was for me, her emotions still moved because of me, she was so alive, she still cared about me.
"You..." Layla was frightened by my undisguised aggression. She retreated but had nowhere to go. "You're insane! This is an invasion of privacy!"
"I don't care." I shrugged indifferently, continuing to close in. "But first, answer me one question."
"I won't tell you anything..."
"That child." I cut her off, my voice turning dangerous, eyes completely gold, locked onto her every micro-expression.
"Since when do you babysit for people?"
A test.
Layla froze. She bit her lip instinctively, then released it, feigning composure, some complex emotion flashing in her eyes. Then once again, she masked herself with that bluffing anger.
"I'm watching a friend's kid. What's it to you?"
She denied it. But that wasn't what I wanted.
Layla's eyes were evasive, her right hand unconsciously gripping her dress tight.
She was lying. I could tell.
"A friend?" I laughed coldly, anger at my mate's deception burning inside. "What kind of friend makes you so nervous? So scared?"
"I said it's none of your business!"
"Tell me." I grabbed her wrist, using all my self-control not to hurt her. "Layla, tell me the truth."
"My name is Ella Ross!" She struggled against my grip, but I held tighter. "Stop calling me that!"
"Ella." I accommodated her words, but my tone was mocking. "Miss Ross."
"Whose child is he?"
I stared at her lips, praying she wouldn't speak a truth that would shatter me. Layla's lips parted slightly, intense emotions forcing her to breathe heavily.
But she just fell silent. Endless silence. Layla stared at me stubbornly, those eyes full of resentment, disgust, and wariness. Each emotion I identified felt like another knife in my already riddled heart.
My wolf curled in on itself under that gaze, anxiously biting its own tail over the mate it had missed for seven years—and her rejection.
We faced off, both of us panting, both trembling. The air was filled with something dangerous, about to explode.
The room door suddenly cracked open.
"Mommy?"
A small, childish voice.
Layla and I both froze.
I slowly turned my head toward that door.
A little head poked through the gap. Black curls slightly messy, small face still pale from illness.
Then he looked up. I saw his eyes.
Silver.