DEVON'S POV
I didn't plan it.
God knows, if I had, I would've avoided that wing of the residence entirely. I would've buried myself under more policy memos or locked myself in another meeting I didn't care about just to avoid the scent that haunted me now like a curse.
But fate has a twisted sense of humour.
I had just left the west conference hall, walking fast, trying to shake the weight of everything Franco had said earlier, when I saw him.
Jimmie.
Right there. Alone in the hall outside Eleanor's private study, thumbing through one of the black folders she'd had him deliver earlier. His head was bent, and the light caught the edge of his glasses, the soft golden curl falling across his forehead.
I froze.
That scent. Warm sugar and spice and storm clouds. It hit me so hard, I staggered.
And then he looked up.
His eyes caught mine—and I swear, just for a second, something flickered between us. Confusion. Panic. But something else too.
Heat.
Jimmie turned quickly like he was going to walk the other way, but I spoke before I could stop myself.
"Hey."
He paused. Shoulders stiffening.
I took a step forward.
"You've been avoiding me."
He didn't turn. "I've just been busy."
"That's not it," I said. My voice sounded rough. Off. I could feel the edge of my control fraying with every breath I took around him.
Still not looking at me, he said, "I don't think it's appropriate for us to talk outside of work. Sir."
His words were careful. Too careful. But I heard the tremor. Saw the way his fingers clutched the folder a little too tightly.
"Appropriate," I echoed, my voice lower now, slower. "Is that what this is about?"
He turned then. Finally. And the moment he did, I knew I'd made a mistake. Or maybe I didn't care anymore.
Because his eyes-those—soft green eyes—were filled with so much tension, it felt like a live wire snapped between us.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
"You shouldn't be talking to me like this," he said, breath uneven. "You're my boss's—"
"Don't say it," I snapped, suddenly. Too fast. Too loud. The air thickened around us.
I took a step forward.
He took one back.
Another step. And now we were inside a narrow stretch of hallway between the study doors and the wall, half-hidden by the shadows where no cameras were posted.
He bumped into the wall behind him.
Cornered.
I stopped a breath away from him.
"I can't stop thinking about you," I whispered. "It's messing with me."
Jimmie swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell quickly. His mouth parted like he was going to say something. But no sound came.
My hand lifted without permission—hovering just beside his face, not touching. God, I wanted to touch. I wanted to know what it would feel like to brush that curl off his forehead, to trace the line of his jaw.
He didn't move.
Didn't pull away.
Didn't breathe.
And for a second, one heartbeat suspended in time, he looked at me.
Looked.
And I saw it.
The invite.
He wanted me. Just as much as I wanted him.
His lips parted slightly.
And I leaned in—just a fraction. Our mouths are inches apart. The scent of him filled my lungs until it was the only thing I could breathe.
His eyes fluttered closed.
God, I was going to kiss him.
I was this close—one second away from madness, one second away from ruin.
But then—
"No," he whispered. And shoved me.
It wasn't hard. Just enough to snap the spell.
I stumbled back, blinking.
Jimmie looked terrified. Eyes wide. Shaking.
"I can't," he said, voice cracking. "This—this is wrong."
"Jimmie—"
"No." He took another step back, hugging the folder to his chest like it might shield him from me. "Please don't. Don't make this harder than it already is."
And that was enough to gut me.
I turned.
Ran.
Not literally. But in every way that mattered. I stormed down the hall, hands shaking, jaw clenched so tight I thought it would crack.
Because if I stayed—if I stayed one second longer—I wouldn't have been able to hold back.
I would've kissed him.
I would've lost everything.
What I didn't know—what neither of us knew—was that we weren't alone.
A door, just slightly ajar behind the corner closest to the study, closed with the softest click.
Whoever had been watching…
Had seen everything.
And now, nothing would ever be the same.
—
JIMMIE'S POV
What was that?
My legs felt like jelly as I stumbled down the corridor, away from where everything… almost happened. I ducked into the nearest empty room and shut the door softly behind me. My heart pounded like it wanted out of my chest.
I leaned against the door, breath heaving, my body burning from the inside out.
What was wrong with me?
I slid down to the floor, clutching my chest like I could physically hold back the confusion clawing its way out of me. My hand was shaking. My lips still tingled—God, they still tingled—and he hadn't even kissed me.
But he almost did.
And I almost let him.
My face crumpled.
Tears spilt down without warning, hot and bitter. I wiped them away fast, angry at myself for even letting them fall. But it was no use. I felt cracked open. Raw.
This was so wrong.
Devon James was married. Married to my boss.
And he should hate me. He did hate me—didn't he? Wasn't that the agreement? The scowls, the coldness, the endless tension between us that I thought was loathing—but now… now I wasn't so sure. Now it just felt like heat waiting to ignite.
What changed?
Why wouldn't he just stick to hating me? That made sense. That was safe. This... this thing between us, whatever it was, was not.
I hated myself for the way my body had responded. For how my eyes had fluttered shut, betraying me. How I had leaned in ever so slightly, right before I shoved him.
I hate that I wanted him.
And worst of all, I hate that I still do.
My hands went to my face as another wave of emotion rolled over me.
God, what the hell is happening to me?
The pull was growing stronger. It wasn't normal. It wasn't human.
I felt like I was unravelling, and I didn't even know why.
"Are you okay?"
The voice startled me, cutting through the fog of my spiralling thoughts.
I flinched—snapped upright, wiping at my face clumsily.
"I-I'm fine," I croaked, cursing the crack in my voice.
When I turned, I saw Amira, one of the junior staff in the residence, standing at the door. Her brow creased in concern.
"Hey," she said gently, stepping closer. "You've been crying. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said too fast, forcing a smile that I was sure looked like hell. "Just… allergies."
She raised an eyebrow. "Allergies don't make people look like their world's falling apart."
I turned away. "I said I'm fine."
There was a pause. The kind where someone knows they're being lied to, but doesn't push.
"Alright," she finally said, and I could feel her eyes on me still. "Just… don't bottle it too long. That's all I'm saying."
And then she was gone. But not before I caught something strange in her eyes.
A flicker of knowing.
Something more than curiosity.
Something that made me feel like she'd seen too much.
—
DEVON'S POV
Back at my office, I locked the door behind me.
My breath was shallow, the weight of my mistake pressing into my spine like a vice. My hand trembled as I reached for the drawer, pulling out the wolf-hide briefcase and laying it flat on the desk.
Inside, nestled in a foam case, was the syringe.
Silver sulfate. Wolfsbane. The only thing that dulls the wolf's edge.
I pulled the cap off, unbuttoned my sleeve, and plunged the needle in.
The burn was instant.
Like acid slicing through my veins.
I gritted my teeth and dropped into the chair as the sting surged through me. I'd done this dozens of times. But this time…
This time, the wolf laughed.
Not just a snarl. A laugh.
Low. Dark. Echoing through the hollows of my mind like a taunt.
You think this can stop me now?
I clutched my chest as the heat spread instead of fading.
The suppressant wasn't working like it used to.
He's too close, the wolf snarled.
He's yours.
"No," I breathed, shaking my head. "He's not. He can't be."
But I felt it.
The truth.
The terrifying, relentless pull.
And the horrible knowing deep inside me.
This wasn't just an obsession.
This wasn't lust.
This was the beginning of something I couldn't outrun anymore.
Something that might destroy us both.