His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 163

**Chapter 163**

**Claire’s POV**

As I stepped into the house, the air enveloped me like a warm embrace, infused with the delicious aroma of roasted pepper soup mingling with the fresh scent of clean laundry. There was also the lingering fragrance of whatever candle my mother had chosen to indulge in this week, something floral that wafted gently through the air, growing stronger as we moved deeper into the home.

Elijah and I crossed the threshold, and the familiar warmth of the living room wrapped around us like a cozy blanket. The sound of laughter and conversation floated in from the dining area, where I could hear my mother’s gentle hum harmonizing with my father’s deep, steady voice.

“Drop your bag in the hallway, Claire,” Elijah whispered beside me, his tone light but with a hint of urgency. “Mum will have a fit if it touches the couch.”

“I know,” I replied, already obeying his instruction as I slid my bag against the wall, letting it settle with a soft thump. As Elijah brushed past me, his shoulder grazed mine, and I felt an electric spark at the contact, though I did my best to ignore it.

We stepped into the dining room simultaneously, and Alpha Ethan’s gaze lifted to meet ours.

“There you two are. Finally,” he said, his voice a mix of authority and warmth that never failed to make me feel at home. “We were about to start without you.”

My mother bustled about, placing a stack of bowls on the table with practiced efficiency. “Sit, sit! The soup will get cold!”

“Cold soup is still soup,” Elijah muttered under his breath, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

My mother shot him a playful glare. “Do not make me remind you how much I suffered making this. How were you as an infant? There’s another one growing inside me now!”

Ethan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “He was only ten pounds, love.”

“And you were not the one carrying him,” she retorted, her tone light but firm as she returned to the kitchen.

Elijah placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I am wounded!”

“Sit down before she finds a wooden spoon,” I whispered, unable to suppress my grin.

He flashed me a mischievous smirk and slid into the chair right beside mine, not across or diagonal—directly next to me. Our chairs brushed against each other, and he made no effort to adjust the distance.

My wolf stirred within me, alert and aware.

The warmth of his arm was intoxicating, the steady strength radiating from him felt like a protective shield. His scent—earthy, reminiscent of the forest, mixed with a sharpness akin to winter air—wrapped around my senses like a comforting cloak. I inhaled without meaning to, the action both involuntary and thrilling.

Of course, he noticed. He always did.

My mother returned with more dishes, her movements fluid and efficient. “Claire, dear, hand me the ladle.”

I passed it to her, our fingers brushing lightly, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The tension in my shoulders eased just a fraction.

Ethan cleared his throat, drawing our attention. “Tell me about the exhibition. Your instructor stopped me after patrol last night.”

I blinked in surprise. “He talked to you?”

“Yes,” Ethan replied, serving himself a generous portion of soup. “Apparently, you and Jessica submitted some early drafts.”

“We did,” I confirmed, my excitement bubbling to the surface. “He mentioned wanting to push the deadline forward since the visiting packs will be here soon.”

“And because he thinks Claire’s shading is soft,” Elijah chimed in, a teasing lilt to his voice.

I kicked him under the table, just hard enough for him to feel it but not enough for the others to notice.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “He said that?”

“Not him,” Elijah replied, his tone almost too casual. “Someone else.”

My mother glanced between us, her curiosity piqued but nothing more. “Well, I want to see it when it’s finished. Both of them.”

“You will,” I promised, my heart warming at the thought. “Jessica said she wants to frame hers with dyed fabric.”

“Purple?” Elijah guessed, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Yes,” I said, taken aback. “How did you know?”

“You talk,” he replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

I frowned, crossing my arms. “No, I do not.”

“Constantly,” he countered, lifting another spoonful of soup to his lips. “Sometimes I wish your wolf had a mute button.”

“I hope you choke on pepper,” I shot back, unable to hide my amusement.

“You first,” he retorted, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

My mother sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “Children.”

Ethan, however, seemed more entertained than irritated. He took a leisurely sip from his cup, leaning back comfortably in his chair, unfazed by our playful banter. “Speaking of children, Elijah, your patrol schedule has been updated.”

Elijah paused mid-bite, the humor fading from his expression. “Updated how?”

“Two additional night-roam shifts. There’s been unusual movement around the eastern ridge.”

“Rogues?” Elijah’s voice dropped, instinctively serious.

“Not necessarily,” Ethan replied, his tone measured. “But something unsettled the patrol yesterday. A scent trail that went cold too quickly.”

My wolf perked up at that, muscles tensing in response.

“What do you mean ‘too quickly’?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

My mother placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’ve handled worse.”

“Yes,” Ethan agreed, his voice calm. “We’re simply being cautious. Elijah’s age group needs the training.”

Elijah’s jaw tightened, a subtle shift that didn’t go unnoticed by me. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Ethan said, nodding approvingly. “Start tomorrow night.”

My mother passed me the rice, her expression brightening. “Claire, did you finish the laundry this morning?”

“Almost,” I replied, glancing at Elijah. “I just need to fold the whites. Elijah said he’d help—”

“I did not—” Elijah began, but I shot him a look that silenced him.

He sighed, relenting. “Fine. I’ll help.”

My mother beamed, clearly pleased. “Good. The two of you should spend more time working together.”

My wolf nearly choked at her words.

We were already spending far too much time together. She had no idea how charged the air felt between us these days—how narrow the space became when we were alone.

I wondered if my mother sensed the subtle shift in my breathing, but before I could dwell on it, she moved on to another topic.

“Claire, I spoke to Mrs. Odi about your herbology class. She said you submitted a very detailed report.”

“She did?” I frowned, surprised. “I thought I was late.”

“She said it made up for the delay,” my mother replied warmly, her pride evident.

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