Chapter 27 #2
Kane ignores the comment entirely, concentrating on the cut. He wipes away the blood, holding my hand steady as the skin begins to knit itself back together, shifter healing working fast and efficiently beneath his watchful gaze.
Once the wound seals, he releases my hand, exhaling through his nose and tossing the paper towel into the bin.
“Try to be more careful,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because I totally cut myself on purpose.”
He gives me a flat, unimpressed look.
“For the record, I don’t accept your apology,” I add, flipping my damp hair over a shoulder.
His brows draw in. “What apology?”
I gesture toward the explosion of peonies still scattered across the hardwood. “I don’t know what rom-com you stole this move from, but buying me a truckload of flowers won’t make up for forcing me to tap out in the first round of the Gauntlet.”
He blinks. Then shakes his head slowly. “Those aren’t for you.”
I stare back at him, momentarily thrown. “Then who are they for?” I ask, my tone sharpening despite myself.
Are they for someone else?
Something ugly coils in my chest at the thought, my inner wolf surging forward territorially. Before I can stop it, an image forms in my mind– another woman in this house, in this kitchen, spending time with my mate.
We never had the exclusivity talk. I just… assumed.
“They’re for me,” he replies simply.
“Bullshit,” I snap, sliding off the counter. “Who is she?”
He lets out an infuriating chuckle, turning away. “Trust me, there’s no one else,” he says as he moves to the grocery bag and pulls out a can of coffee grounds.
“Then why the fuck do you have them?” I demand, anger building fast. “Tell me the truth, Kane. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”
That’s a lie.
I’m not sure I can.
There’s something jagged and fragile twisting inside my chest, something I don’t want to look at too closely for fear it’ll break open.
He sets the coffee down and braces his hands on the counter for a moment before turning around to lean back against it, folding his arms across his chest.
“It’s the scent,” he murmurs, eyes lowered.
“It… reminds me of you.” His gaze lifts, colliding with mine.
“When you were in the city and I was here, I couldn’t sleep worth a shit.
I thought if I filled the house with your scent, maybe it’d trick my wolf into shutting the fuck up long enough to let me rest.”
My stomach flips, mouth running dry.
Another image materializes in my mind– him all alone out here in this silent house, drowning in flowers because his wolf was keening for mine.
It’s tragically romantic, and so un-Kane that it upends everything I thought I knew about the man.
“It didn’t work, for the record,” he adds after a beat, dragging a hand through his hair as his gaze flicks away again.
I just stand there staring at him, feeling like a complete asshole.
A minute ago, I was ready to punch him in the face over imagined competition. Now, I’m staring at a man who bought out half a florist because he couldn’t sleep without my scent in the air.
“So, the peony you left on the counter in the apartment…” I say slowly, voice strained. “What was that? A decoy?”
He glances back at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. “That one was for you.”
My pulse skips. “Why?” I whisper.
“You had a shitty night,” he replies with a shrug. “Thought you should wake up to something better.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just stare down at my hands, at the faint pink line where the glass sliced my palm minutes ago.
The skin is smooth now, the mark barely visible.
I trace it with my thumb as Kane goes through the motions of starting the coffee, moving with that same efficient calm he wears like armor.
He sets it to brew, then comes back to the counter to unpack the rest of the groceries.
I force myself to speak, because the silence feels oppressive.
“Don’t you have work today?”
He shakes his head without looking up. “Taking the day off.”
My brows lift. “What about last night? Don’t you have to, like, report it or something?”
“I’m not reporting it.”
I blink. “Why not?”
He meets my gaze, dark eyes steady and unyielding. “Because you could be implicated.” His jaw flexes. “I’ll handle it privately.”
My brow furrows. “How?”
“I’ll speak to the owner,” he murmurs. “Either he shuts it down quietly, or he goes to Alpha himself and pays up.”
I study him for a long moment, trying to reconcile this man with the one who threatened to drag me in front of Alpha just last night.
“That’s… diplomatic of you,” I say.
He shrugs like it’s nothing.
“Did you hit your head on the way home last night?” I ask, aiming for teasing but hearing the strain in my own voice. “Since when do you do anything that isn’t strictly by the book?”
He pins me with a look so intense that my knees go a little weak. “I protect what’s mine,” he growls.
The air punches from my lungs, heat curling low in my belly.
He turns back to the groceries, unpacking them with methodical precision while I try to regain some semblance of composure. The coffee machine finishes brewing with a soft beep, bitter steam curling into the air and tangling with the lush sweetness of peonies.
It’s a strange combination, sharp and soft. Kinda like us.
I realize, with a jolt of panic, that I could get used to this. To quiet mornings at the lake with someone who cares in his own warped way.
As if summoned by the thought, Kane pulls a box of Lucky Charms from the grocery sack and sets it on the counter. My breath catches, but if he notices my reaction, he doesn’t let on. He just moves to the fridge, sliding a carton of milk inside like it doesn’t mean anything.
But it does.
It means he’s been paying attention.
I’ve been so focused on who I thought Derek Kane was– the Commander, the enforcer, the man everyone fears– that I never let myself consider he could be anyone else.
And if I’m wrong about him… then I might be wrong about us, too.
And that changes everything.