His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

**Claire’s POV**

In the stillness of the house, the only sound that pierced the silence was the gentle sizzle emanating from the stove. It was almost soothing, yet I couldn’t help but feel that my heart was beating in a rhythm that echoed the tension in the air.

But this time, my heart wasn’t racing in panic or despair; it was steady, almost eerily calm. That calmness, however, was laced with an undercurrent of anxiety, a familiar sensation that always seemed to arise whenever Elijah was near.

His face hovered mere inches from mine, and I could see the tumult of emotions swirling in his blue eyes—guilt, confusion, perhaps even fear. For a fleeting moment, those blue depths flickered with a golden hue, only to revert back to their usual icy shade, leaving me momentarily breathless.

I knew I should have stepped back, should have broken this charged silence with a quip or a sarcastic remark, anything to diffuse the intensity of the moment. But my feet felt rooted to the floor, as if the very ground beneath me had conspired to keep me there, frozen in time.

And strangely, it felt like Elijah was just as immobilized.

“Elijah…” I managed to whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

His gaze held me captive, and in that moment, I felt my breath hitch in my throat. There was no trace of sarcasm in his eyes, no hint of the indifference he often wore like armor. Instead, I saw a raw, unfiltered confusion mixed with something dangerously close to desire.

His hand rested on my waist, his thumb brushing against my side as if he were unaware of the intimate contact. The air around us thickened, rich with tension and warmth, mingling with the faint scent of his soap, which somehow felt comforting yet electrifying.

“Let go,” I murmured, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my own words.

He must have sensed it too, because instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, his gaze drawn to my lips as if battling an unseen force and losing the fight.

And then, without warning, he kissed me.

Yes, Elijah Daniels kissed me, and I found myself unable to deny it—again.

It was a kiss that felt like a confession, a desperate search for something that neither of us could articulate. His hand traveled up my spine, pulling me closer, and I felt every ounce of his being—the heat radiating from him, the strength that held him taut, the barely restrained urge to let go completely.

My fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt. I should have stopped this; I knew I should have, but the world around us had faded into a hushed silence, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, my heart wasn’t waging war against me. It was steady, vibrant, alive.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against mine, and I could feel the uneven rise and fall of his breath. His voice came out rough, almost pained. “I didn’t mean…”

His words faltered, and his hand lingered at my waist, hovering as if he were afraid to let go. “I—” he began again, but the words seemed to elude him.

I blinked up at him, speechless, struggling to comprehend that the boy who once labeled me a curse had just kissed me as if he were terrified of losing that moment.

Suddenly, he turned away, muttering something under his breath, and grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as if trying to erase the intensity of what had just transpired. “You should eat something,” he said, his voice strained. “You look pale.”

I swallowed hard, my mind whirling, and managed a shaky nod.

Yet when he turned back to the stove, his posture was rigid, his jaw clenched tight as if this moment had never happened.

I stared at him for what felt like an eternity, grappling with the chaotic emotions swirling within me, trying and failing to make sense of the fragile connection that had just shattered the barriers between us.

In a moment of panic, I did what I always did when faced with confusion. I dashed to my room, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it for a good twenty minutes, replaying the scene in my mind like a film stuck on repeat.

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