His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 115

**Chapter 115**

**Claire’s POV**

A sudden rush of awareness crashed over me, and I felt my breath catch painfully in my throat. The atmosphere in my room was thick, unsettlingly stagnant, as if it was heavy with a presence that had no right to be there. My heart thudded ominously, a single beat that resonated in my teeth, a warning bell in the stillness. I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle coiled tight, and squinted into the shadows lurking at the foot of my bed.

A silhouette loomed there, dark and menacing.

“Who’s there?” My voice emerged as a weak rasp, embarrassingly soft, but I cleared my throat, steeling myself for a second attempt. “Who is that?”

Silence answered me. Not even the slightest creak of the floorboards to betray the intruder’s movements.

The quiet pressed in on me, suffocating, like a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling any scream that might have escaped.

Fine.

If they wanted to play the part of the creep, I could summon my own brand of terror.

With a swift motion, I reached for the lamp on my bedside table, my fingers curling tightly around the cool ceramic base. Instinctively, I felt my claws sharpen, ready for action. A low growl rumbled from deep within my chest, vibrating through my ribs. “Last warning,” I hissed, my voice a shaky whisper. “Tell me who you are.”

Still, there was nothing but silence.

I lifted the lamp, adrenaline coursing through my veins, poised to throw it, ready to launch myself into the unknown.

Then, in an instant, the lights flickered on.

The sudden brightness pierced my eyes, forcing a blink, and my breath hitched mid-exhale. The figure at the foot of my bed was not the intruder I had feared; it was Elijah.

He stood there, looking like a lost soul, one hand clutching the letter I had slipped under his door. His shoulders were tense, rigid with a weight I could only imagine, as though merely standing upright was a battle.

And his face—pale as moonlight even under the harsh glare of the room—was a mask of careful neutrality, yet it was fractured in ways that twisted something deep within my chest.

But it was his eyes that shattered me. They were bruised, hollow, and tinged with a sorrow that felt entirely out of place on him, as if someone had stolen a vital piece of his essence and left behind an aching void.

Before I could rein in my wolf, she whimpered softly, a sound of pure longing and empathy.

Then, without a moment’s thought, I sprang into action.

I pushed off the bed, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat, and launched myself into him with a force that stemmed from an overwhelming need rather than any physical strength.

My arms wrapped around his torso, my face burrowing into the warm curve where his shoulder met his neck, and for a heartbeat, he went utterly still.

Then, slowly—so agonizingly slow it felt like a lifetime—his arms encircled me as well.

His embrace was tentative at first, filled with uncertainty, as though he doubted his right to hold me so closely. But when my breath hitched and I clung to him tighter, something within him seemed to break, and he pulled me against him fully. No words passed between us; there was only warmth, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek, two wolves seeking solace in the darkness.

We remained entwined for what felt like an eternity, long enough for the room to transform from a mere space into a fragile sanctuary of peace.

Then I felt his body tremble.

It was a subtle shiver at first, then another, faint and quaking, as if he were battling a tempest he lacked the strength to contain. I pulled back just enough to gaze into his eyes, and my breath caught once more—not from fear this time, but from the sight of his lashes glistening with unshed tears. One solitary tear lingered at the edge, poised to fall.

He looked away instantly, his jaw tightening in a way that spoke volumes.

I didn’t pry into his pain. I didn’t reach out to touch the tear. Instead, I settled back on the edge of my bed, allowing the silence to stretch between us, letting it breathe until his breathing steadied and the tension in his shoulders eased, if only by a fraction.

Finally, when he lifted his gaze to meet mine, his eyes were softer, more vulnerable. He whispered, “Thank you.”

It was not a grand declaration. It was simple, quiet, and a little frayed at the edges—the kind of thank you that carried the weight of unspoken emotions he struggled to articulate.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, softening the sharp contours of his features. In slumber, he appeared different, all the harsh lines erased, all the tension smoothed out, revealing a quiet beauty and a vulnerable stillness that I was unaccustomed to seeing on him.

A flutter of something—excitement, perhaps—stirred in my stomach. Or maybe lower. My wolf nestled close, her tail flicking in delight, amplifying my reaction.

Elijah shifted slightly behind me, his breath ghosting over the back of my neck. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me subtly closer.

A shiver coursed through me, so swift it nearly took my breath away.

My wolf rolled onto her back, howling in pure joy.

“Elijah…” I breathed, struggling to rein in my racing heart.

He made a low sound, half-awake and half-asleep, and then, as if the universe had conspired against me, he chuckled softly, a deep, warm sound that resonated through my bones.

“Tell your wolf to calm down,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and gravelly enough to send my pulse racing. “Before she ends up swiping me with her tail.”

My brain short-circuited.

My wolf yipped in delight.

Heat flooded my cheeks, creeping down to my toes.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t seem embarrassed. He didn’t acknowledge the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. Instead, he adjusted his head on the pillow, tightened his arm around me just a fraction more, and exhaled softly, as if surrendering to the pull of sleep was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

Just as I was about to reach for his hand, to move it away so I could breathe, a sharp knock echoed through the hallway.

“Claire? Have you seen Elijah anywhere?”