His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 107

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**
**Chapter 107**

**Claire’s POV**

As I stepped away from Selene’s door, I found myself gripped by an unexpected stillness, a paralyzing silence that held my feet firmly against the wooden floor. The anticipation of what I might hear was overshadowed by an embarrassment that crept up my neck like a slow-burning flame.

At first, the sounds filtering through the door were soft, almost like whispers, but there was no mistaking their significance. Every instinct within me screamed to retreat, to grant her the privacy she deserved, to pretend I hadn’t overheard anything at all. Yet, I stood there, ensnared as if by an invisible force, heat radiating from my cheeks until I was certain my ears were aflame.

Inside me, my wolf was restless, pacing anxiously in circles. She hissed at me, urging me to flee, to acknowledge that we had no right to eavesdrop, whether it was an accident or not. But my body betrayed me; my feet felt as if they had fused with the ground, and the air around me thickened, making it hard to breathe. Each inhalation echoed too loudly in the stillness, a reminder of how wrong it felt to be there.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me, a hand swiftly covering my mouth while a strong arm encircled my waist, pulling me back. I jolted, my heart racing, but the familiar scent enveloped me before panic could take hold. Crisp pine mingled with warm smoke, underlined by a sharper note, reminiscent of cloves crushed beneath a boot.

Dr. Adrian.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered urgently, “Don’t scream.” His voice was low, almost teasing, sending a shiver down my spine that ignited a flutter of warmth in my chest.

Gradually, he lifted his hand from my mouth but kept one palm resting on my lower back, guiding me away from the door with a surprising gentleness. Once we were at a safe distance, he exhaled a breath that sounded suspiciously like he was stifling a laugh.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone light, and the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk as he took in my flustered state. I felt like a deer caught in headlights, my cheeks aflame, my thoughts a jumbled mess, as if I had just sprinted a marathon while blindfolded.

“I—yes, I lied,” I managed to stammer, forcing air into my lungs, though every breath felt like it was getting stuck in my throat. “I was just—uh—standing.”

“Ah, that much I gathered,” he chuckled softly, crossing his arms in a way that drew my attention back to the fact that he was entirely shirtless, his skin glistening faintly, either from a shower or sweat—honestly, my brain didn’t want to analyze which it was. His chest was a distraction, a sculpted temptation that was impossible to ignore.

I quickly averted my gaze, feeling my heart pound louder.

He pretended not to notice my struggle. “I probably should’ve given you a heads-up,” he said, nodding toward the door. “My sister… she handles her stress in unique ways. It’s a habit she developed after her mate passed away last year. It’s either this or risk becoming a rogue from the longing. So trust me, this is the better option.”

I blinked, the bluntness of his words catching me off guard, a mix of sympathy and raw honesty beneath his casual demeanor. I understood coping mechanisms; I just wasn’t accustomed to such frankness, especially while he stood there looking like a walking temptation carved from pure mischief.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur.

He shrugged, though a softness lingered in his gaze. “Don’t be. Life happens. Some people respond to loss by building walls. Selene chose to refuse silence.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure my voice would hold steady enough to respond. He gestured toward the small dining table tucked in the corner of the kitchenette, and I allowed him to guide me to a chair. The cabin’s simplicity wrapped around me like a warm embrace: wooden walls, sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the faint aroma of herbs and coffee lingering in the air.

Without waiting for permission, Adrian poured me a steaming cup from the mug he had been working on earlier. He slid it toward me, his expression softening into something warm and almost familiar.

“You look like you need this more than oxygen,” he teased lightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

I wrapped my hands around the cup, grateful for the heat it provided. “Thank you. And… sorry for almost screaming in your face.”

His smile broadened as he settled into the chair across from me. “In your defense, I think most people would scream if they heard that kind of noise coming from a closed door.”

My cheeks flushed again, and he chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “Relax, Claire. You look like your soul is trying to escape your body.”

“That’s because you’re—” I caught myself, realizing I was about to voice the shirtless dilemma out loud.

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