His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Claire’s POV

The rule was simple.

We didn’t touch where anyone could see.

Now the problem was, we always touched each other before this. We didn’t care back then, but now that things were ‘official’, it became a nervous marathon every time.

Which somehow made every accidental brush feel deliberate, and every deliberate restraint feel like a promise waiting to snap.

By Monday morning, the knowledge of us sat between Elijah and me like something alive. It followed us down the stairs, lingered at the breakfast table, hovered in the pauses between words.

We moved normally-too normally, if anyone had been paying attention-but my body betrayed me in small, treacherous ways. My awareness sharpened whenever he was close. My pulse shifted whenever he spoke.

Elijah leaned against the counter while my mother fluttered around the kitchen, humming as she tasted sauce and adjusted seasoning.

He looked relaxed, casual, all easy confidence and quiet strength, but I knew better now. I could see the restraint in the way his fingers flexed when he thought no one was watching, the way his gaze flicked to me and then away too quickly.

“You’re smiling,” he said under his breath as he reached for a glass.

“I am not,” I replied without looking at him.

“You are,” he insisted, amusement threading his voice. “It’s subtle. Like you’re keeping a secret you’re proud of.”

I shot him a warning look. “You’re imagining things. And who knows? Maybe you’re the secret.”

His mouth twitched. “Am I? Because I feel like you’re daring me to say something stupid.”

“Don’t,” I warned quietly.

“That wasn’t a denial.”

I hated how warm his words made me feel.

The walk to school was worse. The streets were familiar, the air cool, the sounds ordinary, but everything else felt heightened.

His steps fell into rhythm with mine, close enough that our shoulders brushed now and then, just barely. Each time it happened, it sent a ripple through me, a reminder of how thin the line was between restraint and

disaster.

“Your wolf is way too agitated Claire,” he said after a moment.

“I’m thinking.”

“Are you sure?” He said teasingly.

I laughed softly. “You’re one to talk.”

He glanced at me, eyes warm, curious. “About me?”

“About everything,” I said, evasive. “About how fast things change.”

He slowed just enough to look at me properly. “Fast doesn’t always mean wrong.”

I held his gaze for a beat too long before looking away. “Sometimes it means complicated.”

“That too,” he agreed. “But complicated doesn’t scare me.”

It should have.

The bell shattered the moment before I could respond, pulling us back into the noise and chaos of school. Elijah slipped seamlessly into his public self the moment we crossed the gates. Easy grin. Relaxed posture. A word here, a nod there. I did the same, adjusting my mask without effort.

But when we passed each other between classes, his fingers brushed my wrist.

It was nothing. Barely a touch. Gone almost as soon as it happened.

My breath still caught.

I didn’t look at him, but I felt his satisfaction like a low hum under my skin.

Jessica noticed before I even sat down.

“Okay,” she said, dropping into the seat beside me in history. “Either I’m losing my mind, or something happened.”

I blinked innocently. “That’s a dramatic opening.”

“You’re glowing,” she said flatly. “And Elijah nearly walked into a desk because he was too busy not-looking at you.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

She studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing, then smiled slowly. “You’re going to tell me eventually.”

“Eventually,” I echoed. “When it’s safer.”

Her expression softened, concern edging out curiosity. “Just… be careful, Claire.”

I nodded. That, at least, I could promise. Or try to.

The day moved smoothly after that. No confrontations. No drama.

Assignments were handed out, notes taken, deadlines announced. In chemistry, the teacher announced our long-term projects and started pairing students.

When Elijah’s name landed next to mine, his head snapped up.

My lips twitched.

“Well,” he murmured as we gathered our things, “this feels unfair to everyone else.”

“Focus,” I said, though my tone lacked conviction.

His knee bumped mine under the table, deliberate this time. “You first.”

I inhaled slowly, grounding myself. “Behave.”

He leaned closer, voice low. “You’re adorable when you pretend you’re not enjoying this.”

I shot him a look. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said lightly, “you haven’t moved away.”

Lunch was unbearable.

The cafeteria buzzed with noise, laughter, clattering trays, but I could barely focus. Elijah sat across from me, engaged in conversation with Felix, laughing at something someone said, but his attention drifted back to me again and again. Each time our eyes met, something unspoken passed between us-anticipation, restraint, the shared knowledge of what we weren’t doing.

I left early, claiming a headache, and ducked into the bathroom to breathe.

Cold water against my wrists helped. I stared at my reflection, willing my pulse to slow, my wolf to settle.

The door creaked open.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Elijah,” I said quietly.

He locked the door behind him. “I checked. No one’s around.”

“You’re going to get us caught,” I whispered.

“I won’t touch you,” he said immediately, hands lifting in surrender. “I swear. I just… needed to see you.”

That honesty disarmed me completely.

“You reckless little wolf,” I’murmured.

“Only with you,” he replied, just as softly.

We stood there, too close, not touching, the space between us vibrating with everything we were holding back. His gaze dropped to my mouth and dragged itself back up, restraint written plainly across his face.

“This is harder than I thought. If I do touch, I’m not letting go,” he admitted.

“Then why are you smiling?” I asked.

“Because it’s worth it.”

A knock sounded at the door. We froze.

“Bathroom’s occupied,” Elijah called, voice steady.

Footsteps moved away.

Neither of us spoke for a moment after that.

“I should go,” I said finally.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Before I turned, his fingers brushed mine-light, fleeting, gone before it could linger.

It burned anyway.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify