Chapter 42

I shrugged. "You have this secret thing between you, so what am I supposed to expect when she looked so, I don't know, radiant."

"Do you want me to tell you? I don't think she'll mind really."

I looked at him, surprised. "I don't want you to break a confidence."

He waved his hand as if to dismiss my concerns. "If it will make you feel better." He stood and moved away, sitting back down on a chair opposite from mine. I hated that I suddenly missed his closeness.

"Matilda was, is, very happy and she is indeed pursuing love."

I sat up, scowling.

"In the purest form I know," he added, cutting off my objection. "She wants to be a mother."

I could feel my mouth hanging open. "A mother?"

"And it's your fault, by the way." I could see Charles was enjoying this, stringing it out while I sat tortured. I slumped back, the bump on my head beginning to throb slightly while my ankle was going numb.

"Okay, Charles. I give up. How is this my fault."

"She wants to adopt one of your orphans. A little girl. She showed me a photo. I think her name is Charlotte?"

I sat up again, this time my heart thumping with joy.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm serious. She needed a recommendation. Sally thought it would be even more impressive if I signed it, so that's what was happening."

I was smiling so wide my face hurt. I pictured Matilda showing the little girl how to hold the camera, of the girl offering Matilda some of her apples and cheese first. It was absolutely a match made in heaven.

"That's so lovely!" I said, my hands clenching.

"Yes, Matilda and her wife are very excited. They promised to invite me to the adoption party if all goes through. So you see? No need to feel upset. No need to worry that anything was going on."

I sat back and let all the information sink in. I was starting to feel foolish.

Charles was looking at me with interest.

"But more importantly, in my opinion, is what's going on with you, Elena."

"Nothing's going on with me. I had a tough day, I've had a fall. I'm just having a bad one is all."

"Uh huh." He crossed his arms and smiled. "Elena Laurentia, I think I like that you were jealous."

"I don't."

"What does it mean that you were jealous, I wonder?"

"What does it mean? It means nothing."

"It means you care more about me than you let on."

"Then I let on?"

I was suddenly flaming again. My emotions had been all over the place, and they were already primed to go off the charts.

"Well, isn't that nice?" I said, my voice full of sarcasm. I sat up as tall as I could. "I've never been anything but honest about how I felt. You were the one who took advantage of that. Who decided to use me in a way that made me pull away, to make me fight you to keep my dignity despite what I want."

He looked stunned.

"I've always had a crush on you. Always. I told you how I felt years ago, and you've done nothing but insult me, use me, and tease me. And now you have the audacity to be surprised when I pull away to try to protect myself? You have the nerve to be surprised that I am jealous?"

I looked away from his intense, confused gaze. This was impossible.

"I've never changed the way I felt," I admitted. "I just forced myself to smarten up, to realize I needed to stop being so trusting or that you'd throw me away and I'd be left with a broken heart and probably a destroyed life."

I began to try to get up. I couldn't be in that office anymore with him sitting silent and judging me for making a scene.

"I'm actually glad you didn't behave like a gentleman to trick me, " I admitted. "If you did, if you would have treated me with the smallest bit of kindness at the beginning, I would have crumbled and you'd have had me completely by the first week."

"Had you completely?" His eyes had dilated, and he was looking at me like I was our dinner. My stomach twisted.

"Yeah." My eyes were riveted to his. I wanted him so badly, but I couldn't handle the emotional roller coaster anymore.

"And how do you feel now?" he asked, his voice careful.

"Now I'm just angry," I said, pushing myself up. The ice bag clattered to the floor. I stood as quickly as I could, almost toppling forward in my effort.

"Elena," he darted forward to help me but I put out my hands.

"No."

I began to move toward the door, my head high, attempting to leave with my dignity and pride still intact.

But my ankle had other things to say about that. The pressure sent piercing pain up my leg but I went, one shoe on, the other in my hand and I limped more than strode toward the door.

With werewolf speed he was suddenly in front of me, blocking my exit. His eyes were glowing with blue fire and he towered above me.

I held my head high but couldn't look into his eyes.

"Please get out of my way, Charles."

"You can hardly walk, Elena."

"I can walk far enough to get away from what is appearing to be a messed up power play. I will not be your toy!"

He looked down at me, his lips twitching.

"Are you smiling right now?" I asked, even more furious. "Do you think I'm joking?"

"No. No, Elena. I think you're dead serious. And I think you're probably right, but I don't know what to think, which I'll admit is strange for me. Do you want to know why?"

"Why, Charles?" I asked, impatient.

He leaned down toward me, his smell and intense gaze making my already weak legs quiver. "Because I can't think when you're like this. Your scent is amplified when you're feeling so passionate, and it's driving me insane."

His last word was more of a growl than a word. His arm went around my waist, and without asking he pulled me to him.

His mouth clamped down on mine, his lips kneading me open to him, as if he were trying to devour me. His tongue, hot and slick, was in my mouth, slowly exploring, tasing every bit of me from the inside that it could. He pressed my body against him like he was trying to force his way in.

I could barely move. I could hardly breathe, and the fire of anger I'd been feeling metamorphosed into a fire of longing. I melted from his heat. His wanting obliterated all my worries and all that was left was the need I felt back, the craving I'd had for him since I sat behind him in class so many years ago.

My body relaxed into his arms and my hands slid slowly up the firm contours of his chest toward his shoulders. They were strong and large, and I found myself griping them and pulling him down toward me so I could kiss him back more freely.

"Mm," he murmured, and pulled back. I was left reaching for him, wanting more. "Are you still angry at me?"

"Furious," I said.

"Good," he growled, and his arms swept me off my feet for the second time in the evening.