Chapter Ten: Cracks and Kisses

I felt bad about it—skirting Electra all night like she was a live wire I couldn't touch—but I'd pulled it off. The party hummed along, Tobin's twenty-fifth birthday a cosy glow of string lights and laughter in the pack house's main hall. I stuck to the fringes, nursing a beer, making small talk with packmates—Shauna ribbing me about my cooking, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief; Lila asking about patrol schedules I wasn't even on anymore, her quiet voice barely cutting through the chatter. Their words blurred into a comforting drone, but my eyes kept darting to Electra—green sweater hugging her frame, loose waves of hair catching the firelight, her laugh slicing through the noise like a bell. Every time she drifted near, I moved—grabbing a venison slider from the table, stepping out to the porch for a gulp of crisp night air, weaving through the crowd to keep a wall of bodies between us. Matt kept me company by the back door, a beer in hand, trading stories about dumb hunts and pranks, steering clear of the forest mess he'd witnessed. By midnight, exhaustion hit, the buzz of the party fading as I slipped upstairs, the creak of my bed a relief as I crashed, her shadow lingering in my mind despite my efforts to shove it out.

A shrill blare of my alarm yanked me from a restless doze, a piercing beep-beep-beep that jolted me awake. I groaned, flailing an arm to slap it silent, the clock glowing 8:00 AM—anger management day, right on schedule. The room was dim, grey light seeping through the blinds, the air stale with last night's tension. I rolled out of bed, the hardwood cold under my bare feet, and shuffled to pull on jeans and a faded tee, the fabric rough against my skin. My black hair hung shaggy over my eyes, and I shoved it back, too bleary for a mirror as I trudged downstairs, boots thudding on the steps.

Dr. Ellis's office was the same lavender-scented nook off the main hall, bookshelves sagging with worn spines, her desk cluttered with papers and a chipped mug that read World's Best Listener in faded red letters. She sat in her armchair, silver-streaked auburn hair pulled into a loose bun, her hazel eyes warm but sharp as she greeted me with a smile. I returned it, tight and forced, shutting the door with a soft thud and dropping into the plush seat across from her, the fabric worn smooth from years of reluctant wolves like me.

She picked up her clipboard, pen poised, and glanced at me over her glasses. "So, how's everything going, Kyan?" Her voice was light, but her gaze dug in, searching for cracks.

"Fine. Never been better," I said, arms crossing tight over my chest, the lie sour on my tongue. I hated this—sitting here, spilling guts I'd rather keep locked up, the lavender stink clawing at my nose.

She flicked her eyes up for a second, then back to the clipboard, scanning it like it held all my secrets. "I heard you got taken off patrol after what happened. How does that make you feel?"

I groaned, the sound rumbling low, my jaw clenching. "Kind of pissed, to be honest." The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, heat creeping up my neck.

Her smile widened, a spark of triumph in it as she sat up straighter, studying me like I'd just cracked open a door. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why does it make you angry?"

I uncrossed my arms, leaning forward, elbows digging into my thighs as I stared at my hands—knuckles scarred from rogue fights, still faintly bruised from Shane's banishment brawl. "Oh, I don't know—maybe because I've trained most my life to fight, and right now it's pointless?" My voice rose, a sharp edge slicing through, and I paused, sucking in a breath to tamp it down, the room's cloying scent making my head swim.

"You don't need to fight to prove yourself worthy," she said, her tone calm but firm, like she was tossing me a lifeline. "I'm sure there's other ways you can contribute?"

I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter, my arms crossing again, pulling at my shirt. "Like what? Wash dishes and cook?" My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. "I already do my fair share. I just want to be out there protecting the pack—like I was trained to do." The frustration was a live wire, sparking under my skin, my pulse thudding in my ears.

She sighed, scribbling something on her clipboard, the pen's scratch grating on my nerves. "Do you want to talk about your past relationships now that we've talked about what you want for the future?"

She was really grilling me today, digging into the spots I'd rather leave buried—parents gone at six, bread theft at eight, the string of flings that earned me Cade's warning. I had to give her something to dodge the real mess. "Yeah, we broke up, end of story," I said, short and clipped, my jaw tight.

She let out a soft hmmm, her eyes flicking to me. "I've heard there's more to the story. Did you want to talk about that?" She looked back to her clipboard, jotting another note, the sound like a taunt.

"Not really," I muttered, my voice flat, walls slamming up inside me.

"Kyan, once we get to the bottom of your infidelity—" she started, but I cut her off, anger flaring hot and fast.

"Huh, my infidelity?" I snapped, my voice rising, sharp enough to echo in the small room. "You're just like everyone else—assuming shit from rumours." My hands balled into fists, heat climbing my chest. "I'm sick of it—people thinking they know me from whispers."

She raised a hand, palm out, her expression shifting to regret. "I'm sorry, Kyan, that was unprofessional of me. I shouldn't have said anything." Her voice softened, an apology laced with guilt, but it didn't douse the fire in me.

I stood, chair scraping the floor, and headed for the door, my hand on the knob. "I guess this session's over?" I glanced back, catching her absent nod, her pen still as she stared at the clipboard. I didn't wait for more, storming out without a second look, the door banging shut behind me.

Rage simmered under my skin, hotter than it'd been in weeks, a buzzing I couldn't shake. The hall blurred past—wood walls, muffled pack voices—as I made straight for the back door, shoving it open with a creak. The forest air hit me, cool and sharp with pine, but it didn't cool me down. I needed out, needed to run before I lost it on someone. My fingers fumbled with my shirt, yanking it off and tossing it onto the grass, the chill biting my skin as I reached for my jeans' zipper.

"Kyan?" My name came soft behind me, halting my hands mid-motion.

I sighed, knowing that voice without turning—Electra. "Yes, Electra?" I said, keeping my tone flat, my back to her.

Her footsteps crunched closer, hesitant, and I caught her from the corner of my eye—jeans, a faded blue hoodie, her hair loose and wild. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice gentle, threading through my anger like a breeze.

I didn't want to lie, not to her. "Not really. Had a bad anger management session," I confessed, my shoulders slumping, still facing the trees.

She stepped in front of me, forcing me to see her—green eyes soft with concern, her brow furrowed. I looked away, the forest a safer focus than her gaze. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked, quieter now, almost a whisper.

"No," I said, crossing my arms tight, keeping my eyes off her, the anger still a live coal in my chest.

Then her hand brushed my cheek—warm, light, a shock against my skin. I turned, caught off guard, and met her eyes, her gaze softening further, melting the edges of my fury. Her fingers lingered, a steady anchor, and my breath hitched, the heat fading to a simmer. Her eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up, a quick dart, and I saw her bite her lip, hesitating. Before I could process it, she leaned in and kissed me—soft, fleeting, her lips warm against mine.

She pulled back fast, dropping her hand, her eyes skittering to the ground, cheeks pink with a shy flush. She'd just kissed me—human form, no wolf excuse—and my head split into a war zone. One side screamed to pull her back, taste her again, damn the consequences; the other roared Cade's deal, Matt's cover, the pack's rules—stop, you idiot. For once, I didn't know what to do, rooted there, heart pounding, staring at her bowed head.

"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, still avoiding my gaze, her voice small. "I shouldn't have—" She took a step back, hands twisting together, the blush deepening.

"Don't," I said, sharper than I meant, my hand twitching toward her before I caught it. "It's... fine." It wasn't fine—nothing about this was fine—but my tongue tripped over itself, words failing me. Her kiss lingered, a ghost on my lips, and the anger was gone, replaced by a mess I couldn't name—want, fear, guilt, all tangled up.

She risked a glance, green eyes wide and searching, then nodded once, quick and jerky. "I'll, uh, see you later?" It came out more question than statement, and she didn't wait for an answer, turning to dart back inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

I stood there, jeans half-unzipped, the forest stretching out silent and vast, my shirt crumpled in the grass. The run I'd craved didn't feel urgent anymore—Electra's touch had drained the rage, but it'd sparked something else, something dangerous. I raked a hand through my hair, cursing under my breath. Cade's deal was a blade at my throat, sharper now than ever—no flirting, no trouble, or I'd be packless—and this? This was trouble, big and bold, staring me down. Matt might've covered the wolf licks, but this kiss? No hiding that if it got out.

I grabbed my shirt, yanking it on, the fabric sticking to my damp skin, and headed back inside, the need to run swapped for a need to think. The kitchen was my refuge—empty, the party's mess cleared, just the hum of the fridge and the faint scent of last night's cake. I slumped at the table, head in my hands, replaying her lips, her blush, the way my anger had melted under her touch. I had to talk to her—set boundaries, shut this down before it blew up—but the thought of facing her, saying no to those eyes, twisted my gut. Maybe Shauna could help—distract me, talk me out of this spiral. I pulled out my phone, texting her: Rough day. You around? Then I waited, the clock ticking, my mind a battlefield with no clear winner.