His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 164

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King 164**

**Chapter 164**

**Claire’s POV**

The atmosphere in the house was enveloped in a serene stillness, broken only by the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath our feet and the gentle, rhythmic hum of the heater working diligently to ward off the chill. Elijah and I had just finished tackling the never-ending chore of laundry, and now, for the first time since breakfast, we found ourselves alone in the main hallway. He leaned casually against the wooden railing of the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on me as I meticulously folded the last of the colorful shirts.

“You fold faster than anyone I know,” he remarked, his voice low and teasing, a playful lilt dancing in the air between us.

“Practice,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though I could feel the familiar warmth creeping up my cheeks at his compliment. “And a bit of patience.”

He shifted slightly, just enough so that his shoulder brushed against mine. I could feel the electric spark of contact, sharp yet controlled, and it sent a jolt through my senses. My wolf noticed the closeness first, a flare of awareness igniting within me, and then my mind caught up with the moment.

“You’re too close,” I whispered, my tone betraying a hint of nervousness, though it lacked the urgency that should have accompanied such a realization.

“I don’t think I am,” he countered, his voice steady, almost laced with amusement. His striking blue eyes met mine, holding my gaze with an intensity that made my heart race. “You just notice everything.”

I rolled my eyes, opting for silence rather than risking an awkward response. The act of folding shirts in the quiet felt infinitely safer than voicing what was truly on my mind, but my fingers lingered just a moment too long on the final shirt, smoothing it with a deliberate slowness.

“Did your mother actually let you rest today?” he asked suddenly, his tone light and teasing, though I could sense the underlying vigilance of his wolf, always alert, always assessing, even in seemingly trivial conversations.

“I did,” I confessed, a small smile creeping onto my lips. “For all of ten minutes before she roped me into helping with the pantry.”

He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s a long time for her to leave you alone.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Don’t tempt her. She might take it as a challenge.”

He glanced down the hallway, as if envisioning her sudden appearance, ready to interrupt our moment. “You’re right,” he agreed, leaning back against the railing once more, arms crossing neatly as if nothing had transpired between us in that brief moment of contact.

But I couldn’t help but notice everything. The warmth radiating from him, the casual tilt of his head, the subtle tension in his posture that seemed to persist even when he was unaware of it. My wolf was hyper-aware, picking up on every small motion like it was a signal meant just for me.

“I need to tackle the pantry before dinner,” I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. “Want to join?”

“Do I have a choice?” he replied, pushing off the railing and falling into step beside me, his presence a comforting weight.

“You always have a choice,” I countered, a teasing lilt to my voice. “But somehow, you never seem to exercise it.”

He let out a soft laugh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear with a casualness that felt almost intimate, the faintest contact sending shivers down my spine. “I like knowing you’re efficient,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Makes me feel… calm.”

I froze for a heartbeat, acutely aware of his presence, more than I was willing to admit. “Calm, huh?” I echoed, trying to mask the flutter of confusion that his words stirred within me.

“Yes,” he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. “Even if your wolf refuses to behave.”

I shot him a sideways glance, but he kept his eyes fixed ahead, walking beside me with an ease that belied the tension crackling in the air. The pantry welcomed us with the familiar scents of dried herbs, grains, and the tang of vinegar, a comforting reminder of home. I began stacking jars, carefully aligning the labels, making an effort not to let our hands brush as we worked side by side.

“You know,” he said suddenly, leaning in closer than necessary to reach a high shelf, “I don’t understand why Ethan insists on those night patrols.”

“I know why,” I replied, passing him a bag of flour, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. “He wants you to learn to anticipate unexpected situations, threats to the pack.”

“Yeah, but standing on a ridge all night would get boring if you were just scanning for me,” he teased, his tone light yet laced with an undercurrent of seriousness.

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