His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

**Claire’s POV**

A long, weary sigh escaped Elijah’s lips as he shifted his weight, settling onto the stool with a visible effort. I approached him cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest. The cut near his ribs was far more severe than I had initially realized. The skin around the injury was inflamed, a vivid red that starkly contrasted with the pale hue of his flesh. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the disinfectant and gauze, anxiety and determination coursing through me like a tempest.

“This will sting,” I murmured softly, my voice barely breaking the heavy silence, hoping to prepare him for the discomfort that was inevitable.

To my surprise, he remained remarkably still, not even flinching as I pressed the gauze against his skin. I could see his breath hitch for just a moment, but that was all. It was as if he were bracing himself for the pain, showcasing a strength that both impressed and worried me. I couldn’t help but admire his resilience, even as my heart ached for him.

I focused on the rhythmic motions of my hands—cleaning, pressing, wrapping—trying to keep my mind steady. The atmosphere around us felt thick with silence, yet it was oddly comforting. I could sense his gaze fixed on me, unwavering, and every time I dared to glance up, his eyes remained locked onto mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us that spoke volumes.

Once I finished bandaging him, I attempted to step back, but his hand shot out, catching my wrist with a grip that was both firm and gentle, holding me in place.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice low and filled with curiosity, as if he genuinely wanted to understand my motivations.

“Because you saved me,” I replied simply, the truth spilling from my lips without hesitation. The weight of those words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he countered, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he believed that with all his heart.

“I know that,” I affirmed, my pulse quickening as I felt the intensity of his gaze.

“Then why?” he pressed, searching my face for an answer, his eyes probing deeper than I expected.

I met his gaze, holding it with a steady resolve. “Because I wanted to.”

In that moment, something flickered in his eyes, a shift that made my heart skip a beat. He released my wrist, and I felt an odd reluctance to move away. It dawned on me that I was still positioned between his legs, the proximity suddenly charged with an electric tension that made the air around us crackle.

“You should get some rest,” he suggested, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost a whisper.

“So should you,” I replied, crossing my arms defiantly. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ nonsense.”

A smirk danced on his lips as he leaned in slightly, his expression teasing. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” I shot back, unable to hide my irritation. His bravado only fueled my determination to care for him.

He let out a small laugh, the sound lightening the mood like a breath of fresh air. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re not?” I huffed, raising an eyebrow in challenge, my heart racing from the playful banter.

He looked down, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he were wrestling with something he wanted to say but chose to keep to himself. I noticed the cut on his face had already begun to heal, a testament to his resilience. My gaze then fell on the bandage near his ribs, which appeared to be slipping. With a sigh, I reached for it once more, my fingers brushing against his skin.

“Stay still,” I instructed firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“What are you—” he began, but I cut him off, my voice steady.

“Just stay still,” I insisted, my heart pounding as I prepared to adjust the bandage.

Needing a better angle, I made a spontaneous decision and slid onto his lap. The move caught both of us off guard, his body tensing instinctively while mine reacted in kind. Yet, neither of us pulled away, caught in a moment that felt both surreal and electric.

I worked quickly, my fingers deftly adjusting the bandage, tightening it with care. His silence enveloped us, his breathing steady and low, and with each brush of my fingers against his skin, a strange warmth unfurled within me, a sensation that felt like a soft hum of something more profound than fear.

Once I finished, I realized my legs felt weak, and I hesitated to move off him.

He looked into my eyes, really looked, and I found myself unable to look away. The air around us felt thick and charged, almost alive with unspoken words.

“Thank you,” he finally said, breaking the spell that held us captive.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like a warm blanket.

His hand rose, fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It was a small, tender gesture, yet it felt monumental, as if the world around us had faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in this fragile cocoon.

For a brief moment, silence enveloped us. His gaze shifted from my eyes to my lips and back again, an unspoken question hanging in the air, thick with anticipation.

I should have pulled away.

But my legs felt like lead, and I couldn’t bring myself to move.

His hand slid to the nape of my neck, his thumb grazing my skin with a feather-light touch. I could feel the warmth of his breath before I even registered how dangerously close we were. My lips parted slightly, anticipation swirling in the air like a tangible force.

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