His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 101

**Chapter 101**

**Claire’s POV**

The gala begins with a soft hush, as if the night itself is attempting to be courteous before the inevitable chaos unfolds.

Perched at the top of the grand staircase, I fight the urge to twist my fingers together anxiously. My mind drifts to the painstaking hours spent getting my hair styled just right—exactly as the maids insisted—and the way the dress Elijah chose for me makes my pulse race every time I catch a glimpse of my reflection.

Beneath me, the ballroom radiates a warm glow.

Every chandelier sparkles with light, and each golden sconce flickers like a tiny flame. The air is thick with the mingling scents of perfume, the sound of laughter, and the hum of countless conversations merging into a living tapestry of noise. Alphas, wolves, elders, emissaries—everyone swirls together in a vibrant dance of color and movement, sending my heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and genuine excitement.

Taking a deep breath, I begin my descent down the staircase.

Heads turn in unison, a wave of attention that sends a thrill through me. My wolf stirs with pride, a low purr echoing in the back of my mind.

“Relax,” I urge her, though I know she won’t listen.

As I reach the midpoint of the staircase, my gaze lands on Elijah. He stands across the room, engaged in conversation with Ethan and one of the elders, dressed in a midnight suit that seems tailored to perfection. His hair is slicked back, slightly damp from earlier, and when he laughs at something Ethan says, a spark ignites low in my stomach, an undeniable warmth spreading through me.

He hasn’t noticed me yet.

But the moment his eyes catch mine—oh, the transformation is instantaneous.

His smile falters for just a heartbeat before returning, softer and somehow more intimate, as if it had been crafted just for me. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering in a way that steals my breath away.

“Steady, Claire,” I remind myself.

I reach the bottom of the staircase just as a tall alpha with sandy hair strides toward me, exuding far too much confidence for my comfort.

“Claire, right?” he greets, his voice bright and overly enthusiastic. “I’m Alden Silvercrest. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Two other alphas hover in the background, clearly ready to leap in if Alden falters.

I muster a polite smile, though I can’t hide the edge of skepticism. “All good things, I hope?”

His grin widens, and I immediately sense his flirtatious nature. This one is bold—aggressively so.

“Better than good,” he declares, extending his arm toward me. “Care for a stroll around the hall?”

Before I can respond, a familiar voice interjects from behind him.

“Careful, Silvercrest,” Elijah warns, his tone laced with a protective edge. “You’re crowding the stairs.”

Alden scoffs, brushing off Elijah’s concern. “Relax, Elijah. I’m merely making conversation.”

Elijah’s smile remains pleasant, but there’s an underlying tension in his demeanor. “That’s adorable,” he replies, “but now, please move aside.”

Alden hesitates, caught off guard by Elijah’s unwavering gaze—a mix of politeness and a warning that says, don’t test me.

With a reluctant sigh, Alden steps aside. Elijah doesn’t take my arm dramatically, but he positions himself close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, a protective barrier that sends a shiver down my spine.

“You look…” he begins, his voice trailing off as if searching for the right words.

I wait, anticipation building in the air between us.

He clears his throat softly, his gaze intense. “You look incredible.” The compliment washes over me like a warm tide, igniting something deep within. My wolf practically preens at his words.

“Thank you,” I manage to reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just as he seems poised to say more, the chaos of the gala swells around us.

As I step fully into the ballroom, alphas line up as if I’m a rare collectible on display. One after another, they introduce themselves, showering me with compliments, asking where I’m from, insisting that the dress complements my eyes (which it decidedly does not), and attempting to offer me drinks even though I already hold one.

It becomes utterly absurd.

One even goes so far as to bow. Bow.

Behind me, I can sense Elijah’s patience fraying, his tension palpable in the air. His jaw clenches, and I watch as his eyes darken each time a new alpha approaches. Whenever a hand reaches a little too close to my waist, he tenses, as if one more misstep could push him to the brink of a very public confrontation.

When the sixth alpha in mere minutes asks me to dance, Elijah steps forward, his voice smooth and commanding.

“She already promised the next dance to me,” he asserts, a glint in his eyes that brooks no argument.

I whip my head toward him, surprise evident on my face. “I—?”

He gently takes hold of my wrist, his touch sending a spark through me. “Come on.”

Before I can protest, he leads me toward the dance floor, his hand settling warmly against my waist, the other grasping my hand with a steadiness that makes my breath hitch. I don’t recall making any promises, but I’m too flustered to voice my confusion.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and soothing.

“I feel like I’m being hunted like prey,” I whisper, half-joking.

His laughter is soft, a comforting sound amidst the chaos. “They’re just excited.”

“They’re way too excited,” I retort, trying to keep my tone light.

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