Chapter 78: Civil

Chapter 78 Lenora I fold my arms, watching as Cameron tosses his clothes into the laundry basket. His suit jacket lands neatly, his shirt less so, and then he strips it off completely. My eyes betray me, trailing the length of his chest and those unfairly sculpted shoulders. The man could seriously star in some Greek statue exhibit, but I snap myself out of it, shaking my head before he notices. "So," I start, voice light but edged with curiosity, "how’d it go? You were gone for hours." He pauses, then continues stripping off his suit pants, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. "It was... okay," he says finally. "Okay?" I repeat, narrowing my eyes. "Yeah." His tone is maddeningly casual. "Please elaborate," I insist, but then he turns toward me, all lean muscle and calm confidence, standing there like he knows I’ll forget my own name in a second. "I will," he promises, voice dropping low. "But I think we have something else to do that’s more important." Before I can roll my eyes or demand details, he closes the space between us and kisses me. Hard. And like the spineless creature I am when it comes to Cameron, I give in immediately, melting into him, my arms winding around his shoulders. In one effortless motion, his hand slips under my knees, lifting me bridal style as though I weigh nothing at all. My breath hitches, my heart racing as he carries me toward the bedroom, the world beyond his steady stride falling away. * Lying naked with my head on his chest, the steady thump of his heart calming the storm that still simmers in me. We should stand up, shower, clean up—but right now I need this. Just a moment to breathe, to press into his warmth, to feel the bond hum steady between us like a heartbeat beneath the heartbeat. My fingers trace slow circles against his chest, absently memorizing the lines of muscle and skin. Cameron’s voice is low, almost thoughtful as he tells me about his meeting earlier today with Adrian Neta. I close my eyes, listening. The words are less important than the emotions bleeding through the bond—admiration, respect, a budding fondness that surprises me. I sigh softly against him. A friend. A wolf friend. He’s never had that before, not really, and the truth is... it’s good for him. Cameron deserves that. He deserves someone who understands both his human side and the wolf that still feels new to him. I’ll make peace with it. I’ll be civil. For Cameron’s sake. I’ll keep the peace, but not with her, unfortunately for me, what she did to Cameron, means I’ll never like her. Cameron’s hand drifts up and down my back in slow, steady strokes—a calming touch that anchors me. I breathe him in, my heartbeat syncing to his. For a second, everything feels quiet, safe, perfect. And then his stomach growls. The noise rumbles through his chest, loud enough to make me lift my head. I blink, startled, then burst out laughing. He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose like it personally betrayed him. "Don’t laugh," he mutters, though his ears are pink. I sit up, brushing my hair out of my face. "Sorry, but you sounded like a wolf trying to start a chainsaw." That earns me a glare, but it’s softened by the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Fine," I sigh, swinging my legs over the bed. "I’ll go salvage what’s left of dinner." He catches my wrist before I can stand. "Stay. I’ll order something in." "Delivery won’t survive your appetite," I tease, leaning back against him. I place the smallest kiss on his nose, and he looks at me and smiles. I swear when he smiles, his eyes turn a brighter shade of blue. It’s so pretty. I stay staring at him longer than I should, drinking in the way the corners of his mouth curve, the way his chest rises and falls with the easy rhythm of contentment. He notices, of course he does—Cameron notices everything. "You’re staring," he murmurs, voice low, threaded with amusement. "Am I not allowed to?" I whisper back. His thumb brushes along my jawline, feather-light, grounding me and pulling me closer at the same time. "You can stare all you want, but don’t expect me to sit still while you do." A soft laugh escapes me, but it falters into something quieter, something heavier in the air. I love him so much. "Please, what can you do, with your hunger?" I say, slipping off the bed, reaching for the discarded robe on the floor. "Don’t underestimate me!" he calls after me, mock indignation laced in his voice. "Yeah, yeah," I toss back, tying the sash around my waist and walking toward the door. But before I can take another step, his voice drops—quieter, softer. "Lenora." I turn, and he’s propped up on one elbow, hair a disheveled mess, bare chest still flushed from earlier. His eyes lock onto mine with that intensity that makes my knees weak, even when he’s not trying. "You’re really going to leave me hungry?" His tone is teasing, but there’s something behind it too—something raw. I fold my arms, pretending to be immune, but the bond betrays me, a pulse of his yearning tugging through me. "Food first. Then you can prove your point about... stamina." The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and dangerous, like a wolf who knows the chase is already his. "Careful, beloved. You’ll regret saying that." "Regret?" I arch a brow, opening the door. "I look forward to it." His low laugh follows me out into the hall, a sound that wraps around me like a tether. I pad into the kitchen, flicking on the soft overhead light. Behind me, the faint creak of the floorboard. "Thought I told you to stay," I murmur, already smiling as I sense him close. "I don’t take orders well," Cameron’s voice comes low, right at my ear, his arms circling my waist. "Besides," he breathes, "I wasn’t hungry for food...only."