Chapter 10 The Rainy Standoff

I stayed in the library until the very last second before closing. My phone had been buzzing in my pocket for hours, but I refused to look at it. I knew what was waiting for me. Missed calls from Silas. Texts from Killian.

I just wanted to be a student again. I had a huge midterm in Constitutional Law coming up, and my brain was already leaking information. I needed peace. I needed to not be "property" or a "little bird" or a "captivating guest" for just one night.

But as I stepped out of the library doors, the sky decided to join in on my misery.

The clouds were black, and it was raining cats and dogs out here. Within seconds, my thin sweater was soaked through, clinging to my skin. I pulled my bag over my head, trying to protect my textbooks, and started the long walk toward my dorm.

"Elena! Get in the car!"

The familiar hum of a car, I've gotten used to sounded through the downpour. Silas's silver sports car pulled up to the curb, the window rolling down just enough for me to see his frustrated expression.

"Silas? What are you doing here? I told you I was busy," I shouted over the thunder.

"You weren't answering your phone. You're going to get sick. Get in," he commanded, his voice tight.

Before I could even answer, a deafening roar drowned out the rain. A black motorcycle swerved around the front of Silas's car, splashing a wave of dirty puddle water against his pristine silver paint. Killian kicked the kickstand down and hopped off, his leather vest already glistening with water.

"She's coming with me," Killian growled, stepping toward me.

Silas opened his car door and stepped out, ignoring the rain that immediately ruined his expensive hair. The two men stood on the sidewalk, glaring at each other. The tension was so thick I could almost taste it. They looked like two predators fighting over the last bit of prey on the plains.

"She's shivering, you idiot," Silas snapped at Killian. "She needs a heater and a dry seat, not a death trap on two wheels."

"She needs to get out of the open," Killian countered, his jaw set. "My place is closer."

I stood between them, water dripping off my nose, feeling more like an object than a human being. They weren't even looking at me; they were measuring each other.

"Stop it!" I yelled, stepping back. "Both of you. I'm not a prize. I'm not a trophy. I'm a person who is trying to go home and study."

"Elena, don't be stubborn," Silas said, stepping toward me with his hand reached out.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not picking. I'm walking. I'd rather be wet and alone than trapped in a car or on a bike with either of you right now."

I turned and started walking. I didn't look back, even though I could hear them arguing behind me. I walked for ten minutes, my shoes squelching with every step. My teeth started to chatter, and my fingers went numb. Maybe picking a ride would have been smarter, but I was too angry to care.

I was crossing the edge of the campus woods, a shortcut to the dorms, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

"I told you I was out of patience, Elena."

It was Killian. He didn't give me a choice this time. He lifted me up and carried me off the path, heading deep into the trees.

"Put me down! Killian, I'm serious!"

"Shut up," he grumbled. "You're turning blue."

He didn't take me to his bike. He carried me to a small, secluded wooden shed tucked away behind the old maintenance building. He kicked the door open and set me down on a pile of dry moving blankets. The shed was small and smelled of cedar and old tools, but it was dry.

"Take those off," he said, pointing to my soaked sweater and jeans.

"What? No!"

"I'm not asking, Elena. You're shaking like a leaf. If you stay in those wet clothes, you're going to get pneumonia. Turn around if you have to, but get them off. Now."

He turned his back to me and started rummaging through a chest, pulling out a thick, oversized shirt. I hesitated, but he was right. I was freezing. I peeled off my wet clothes, my skin pebbled with goosebumps, and threw on the flannel shirt.

It reached mid-thigh on me and smelled exactly like him-smoke and spice.

"Done," I whispered.

Killian turned around. He had stripped off his own vest and shirt, leaving him in just his heavy work pants. His chest was massive, covered in lots of tattoos that looked so beautiful in the dim light. He sat down on the blankets and pulled me toward him.

"What are you doing?"

"Body heat," he said simply. He pulled me back so I was sitting between his legs, my back pressed against his bare chest. He wrapped a dry wool blanket around both of us, tucking it in tight.

"I should be studying," I muttered, though I was starting to stop shivering. His heat was like a furnace.

"You should be resting," he replied.

We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the rain hammer against the tin roof of the shed. It was a rhythmic, soothing sound. I felt his arms wrap around my middle, pulling me closer until there wasn't a single inch of space between us.

His hands began to move, rubbing my arms and thighs to get my blood flowing. But the movement didn't stop for long. His touch became slower, heavier. He began to grind his chest against my back, his breath hot against my neck.

"Killian..." I breathed.

"Don't," he groaned. "Just let me hold you."

He started to shift, his lower body pressing firmly against me. It wasn't sex, but it was intimate. We were both fully clothed from the waist down, but the friction was enough to make my head swim. He moved with a slow, agonizing rhythm, his hands roaming over my stomach and up toward my ribs.

I felt a wave of that "wrong" pleasure hit me again. I was exhausted, stressed about my test, and yet I was leaning back into a man who had practically kidnapped me from the rain. I felt like a mess.

"You're so warm now," he whispered, his lips grazing the mark on my neck.

I didn't pull away. I let my head fall back against his shoulder. The fear and the anger were being washed away by a heavy, sleepy fog. His scent was filling my nose, and for some reason, it made my heart ache.

I closed my eyes, the sound of the rain turning into a lullaby. As I started to drift off, I inhaled deeply against his skin. My brows furrowed in my sleep. He smelled like woodsmoke, yes. But underneath that, there was something else. A scent of sandalwood and rain.

It was the exact same smell as Professor Blackwood.

I wanted to ask him about it, but sleep pulled me under before I could find the words. I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, locked in the arms of the man I was supposed to be running from.