His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 182

Chapter 182

Claire’s POV

Morning light peeked through the kitchen blinds, painting stripes across the table like prison bars. I sat with a bowl of cereal I wasn’t eating, pretending to scroll through my phone while every nerve ending waited for Elijah to come downstairs.

When he finally appeared, it was worse than I expected.

He wore his hockey jersey for spirit day-black and silver, sleeves tight around his arms, the captain’s C stark against his chest. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends. He looked unfairly good, and the lazy half-smile he aimed at me across the room said he knew it.

“Morning,” he said to the kitchen at large, voice low and rough from sleep.

Mom hummed a greeting without turning from the stove. Ethan was already gone for work.

Elijah slid into the chair beside me-too close for siblings, not close enough for what we actually were. His knee brushed mine under the table and stayed there.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, innocent as anything, pouring coffee like he wasn’t deliberately pressing his leg against mine.

“Fine,” I lied. “You?”

“Like a baby,” he said, eyes flicking to me with private amusement. “Dreamed about chemistry projects.”

I almost choked on my cereal.

Mom turned then, spatula in hand. “You two are paired for that big one, right? That’s convenient.”

“Super convenient,” Elijah agreed, deadpan.

I kicked him lightly under the table. He didn’t even flinch-just shifted so our thighs touched instead.

The walk to school was torture by sunlight.

We kept a careful foot of space between us, but it didn’t matter. Every time the wind shifted, I caught his scent -pine, intoxicating cologne and something colder, like the rink. He walked with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, but I could feel the tension coiled in him like a spring.

“You’re staring,” he murmured without looking over.

“Am not.”

“You are. It’s distracting.”

“You’re wearing your jersey,” I said. “You know what that does.”

He laughed under his breath. “I do now.”

At the gates, we split without a word-habit, survival. I headed toward the arts wing, where Jessica was already waiting by my locker, sketchbook under her arm.

“Okay,” she said the second I reached her, “you look like you either won the lottery or committed a felony. Which is it?”

“Neither,” I said, spinning my combination lock too fast and missing it twice.

“Liar.” She leaned against the lockers, studying me. “It’s Elijah, isn’t it? Don’t even try to deny it. You two have been weird for weeks.”

I glanced around-no one close enough to hear. “Jess, I-”

“I’m not asking for details,” she cut in, softer. “I’m just saying… whatever it is, I’ve got your back. But the arts showcase is in three weeks, and we need to lock in our concept today or Mr. Harlan will murder us.”

Relief loosened my chest. “Right. Showcase. Let’s do the shadow-and-light series. The one with movement and negative space.”

She grinned. “Knew you’d pick that. I already started thumbnails.”

We spent first period in the studio, spreading charcoal sketches across the table. Jessica talked animatedly about layering projections with live drawing, and I tried to focus. I really did.

But then the door opened and Elijah walked in with Coach Ramirez, probably dropping off equipment forms or something. His eyes found mine immediately.

Coach was talking about rink scheduling, but Elijah wasn’t listening. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, jersey stretching across his chest, watching me like I was the only person in the room.

Jessica noticed. Of course she did.

She elbowed me. “Your stepbrother is staring again.”

“He’s not-”

“He absolutely is.”

Coach finally left, and Elijah lingered just long enough to mouth behave before disappearing.

Jessica whistled low. “Girl. You are in deep.”

Lunch was crowded, loud, impossible.

Elijah sat with the hockey team as usual, but his attention kept drifting. Every time I looked up, he was already looking back. Felix said something that made the table erupt in laughter, and Elijah joined in, but his eyes stayed on me.

Audrey chose that moment to make her move.

She’d been circling Elijah since day one, and today she slid into the empty seat beside him like she belonged there. Bold move, I’d give her that.

I watched her lean in, hand brushing his arm as she laughed at something he said. Elijah was polite, distant, but it still twisted something sharp in my stomach.

Jessica followed my gaze. “Audrey again?”

“Always Audrey,” I muttered.

“She’s persistent. I’ll give her that.”

Audrey tossed her hair, saying something that made Elijah nod. Then she reached over and straightened the collar of his jersey-slow, deliberate, fingers lingering.

I looked down at my tray, appetite gone.

My phone buzzed under the table.

Elijah: You okay?

I glanced up. He was watching me now, Audrey still talking beside him.

Me: Fine.

Elijah: Liar.

Me: Jealousy doesn’t suit me.

Elijah: Doesn’t suit me either. But here we are.

I bit back a smile.

Me: Behave.

Elijah: Working on it.

Audrey leaned closer, showing him something on her phone. He glanced at it, nodded again, then typed one- handed.

Elijah: Storage closet behind the rink. After last period. Five minutes.

My heart stuttered.

Me: We’ll get caught.

Elijah: Door locks from inside. Trust me.

I shouldn’t. We absolutely shouldn’t. But my wolf was as much of a whore as I was.

Me: Okay.

The rest of the day dragged and flew at once.

Last period was study hall in the library. I packed my bag early, told Jessica I had a headache, and slipped out with three minutes to spare.

The hallway behind the rink smelled like ice and rubber mats. The storage closet was tucked between lockers -small, dim, rarely used this late.

I hesitated outside the door.

It opened before I could knock.

Elijah pulled me inside and clicked the lock, backing me against the door in one smooth motion.

“Hi,” he said, voice low.

“Hi,” I breathed.

Then his mouth was on mine.

No hesitation this time. No careful distance. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as he kissed me like he’d been holding it in all day. I kissed him back just as desperately, fingers curling into his jersey, pulling him closer.

He groaned quietly, lifting me just enough that my feet barely touched the ground, pressing me harder against the door.

“Claire,” he murmured between kisses, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” I whispered.

His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips, and he kissed along my jaw, my neck, teeth grazing lightly. I tilted my head back, breath catching as his fingers slipped under the hem of my sweater, tracing bare skin.

“You were jealous,” he said against my throat, smug and soft all at once.

“So were you,” I managed.

“Still am,” he admitted. “Every time someone looks at you.”

His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, and I felt the length of him pressed against me-hard, urgent. My hands moved on instinct, sliding down his chest, over the ridges of muscle under his jersey, lower-

He caught my wrist gently, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.

“We can’t,” he said, voice ragged. “I’ll lose my mind if you do that.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to.”

“God, me too.” He kissed me once more-slow, deliberate-then let me slide back to my feet. “Tonight. Your room or mine. After everyone’s asleep.”

I nodded, still catching my breath.

He smoothed my hair, tucked a strand behind my ear. “You’re okay? After Audrey?”

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