Chapter Sixteen: Tangled Sheets and Tangled Lies

I followed Electra's wildflower scent through the pack house, up the creaking stairs, all the way to her room, the bourbon sloshing in my gut with every step. "What the hell am I doing?" I muttered, cursing myself, my voice thick and unsteady. The last shot from the bar hit hard, my legs wobbling like a newborn pup's, the hallway tilting as I stumbled past faded pack photos and scuffed wood walls.

All I could see was Shauna's head-shake by the bonfire—sharp, knowing, like I'd screwed up somehow. I'd tried to ask, slurring through the crowd's roar, but she'd just pointed me here, her hazel eyes tight with something she wouldn't spill. Now I stood outside Electra's door, breath ragged, the field's smoke still clinging to my shirt, wondering if I should even knock. I didn't know what was wrong—just Shauna's damn look and Electra's sudden exit, enough to drag me up here on instinct and too much liquor.

I sighed, a rough sound, and rapped my knuckles on the door, the wood cool against my skin. Shuffling came from inside, then her voice—soft, lilting, cutting through my haze. "Who is it?" God, even half-drunk, her voice hit like a spark.

I shook my head, shoving the thought down. "It's Kyan," I said, trying to mask the slur, but it slipped anyway, a little rough around the edges.

Silence stretched, thick and heavy. "Can I come in?" I asked, the wait clawing at me, feeling like minutes in my muddled skull.

More shuffling, a lock clicked, and the door swung open. Electra stood there, light brown hair loose and tangled, green eyes rimmed red—short shorts hugging her hips, a baggy purple pyjama shirt swallowing her frame. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and winked before I could stop myself. "Well, hey there," I drawled, alcohol steering the wheel. Her face twisted, anger flashing hot.

She crossed her arms, tight and defensive. "What do you want, Kyan?" Venom laced her tone, sharp enough to slice.

I pushed past her, staggering a couple steps into the room, the bourbon fuelling every dumb move. Her space hit me—purple walls, a stuffed wolf on the dresser, a pile of plush toys spilling off a shelf, the air sweet with her scent and a hint of lavender from some candle. She waved a hand in my face, snapping me back. "Why are you here, Kyan?" Pleading now, her voice softer but urgent.

I turned, really looking at her for the first time since barging in. Red ringed her eyes, faint tear tracks glinting in the lamplight. "Why were you crying?" I asked, concern cutting through the haze, my hands twitching to reach out.

She looked away, shrugging. "I wasn't," she lied, shoulders hunching.

I grabbed her face, gentle but firm, turning her to me. Her skin was warm under my callused palms, her green eyes wide and locked on mine. "Yes, you were. Tell me why." My voice dropped, edged with worry—if it was that bastard Liam again, I'd hunt him down and snap his neck.

She stared, our faces close—too close—my eyes flicking to her lips, full and soft, before snapping back up. "Don't worry about it. I'm over it now," she muttered, pulling my hands off her face and turning away, her hair curtaining her expression.

I knew she was hiding something—those tears weren't nothing. "I'm not leaving 'til you tell me what's wrong," I protested, flopping onto her bed, the mattress sinking soft under me, springs creaking. I sprawled out, boots dangling off the edge, the purple comforter rumpled beneath me.

She spun, her anger fading to sadness, a quiet plea in her eyes. "Please, just leave it alone," she sighed. "I swear it was nothing."

I propped up on an elbow, head brushing her pillow—wildflowers and sleep clinging to it—and grinned, thinking I'd cracked it. "Does this nothing have a name?" It had to be a guy, right? Liam, some Midnight wolf, someone—but a pang twisted my gut at the thought, sharp and unwanted. I shoved it down.

She crossed her arms again, scoffing. "Even if there was, it's none of your business. I'm fine, okay? You can leave now."

Her words blurred as my focus slipped—damn, she was sexy when she was pissed, all fire and defiance in those shorts. The bourbon was winning, my head swimming, thoughts tangling. I flopped back, hands under my head, staring at the ceiling—purple, of course. "Maybe I should just tell your brother about this nothing," I teased, grinning wider, watching for her reaction.

Her mouth dropped into an O, shock flashing, but no words came. A yawn hit me, heavy and sudden, my eyes drooping. "There is nothing..." Her voice faded, soft and distant. "Kyan," she called, my name rolling off her lips like a damn melody, and I was out, the world slipping away.

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"Mmm, this pillow's warm," I mumbled, tugging it closer in the grey dawn light. It shifted—moved?—and my eyes cracked open, blurry and slow. "This isn't my room," I rasped, blinking at purple walls, stuffed toys staring back from the shelf. I glanced down at my "pillow"—light brown hair spilled across my chest. "Shit." I lifted the blanket—fully clothed, thank the Moon Goddess, jeans and shirt intact. So was she, her shorts and baggy shirt still on.

She stirred, rolling to face me, her breath soft against my neck. "Electra?" I whispered, voice rough with sleep and bourbon's aftermath.

"Mmm," she hummed, eyes still shut, face peaceful.

A sharp knock rattled the door. "Electra, you awake?" Cade's voice boomed, edged with impatience.

"Fuuuuck," I hissed, quiet as I could, heart slamming. Electra's eyes fluttered open, locking with mine, wide and panicked. I pressed a finger to my lips, begging silence.

"What?" she called, voice groggy but sharp.

"Have you seen Kyan?" Cade asked, anger simmering under his words.

She froze, then yelled, "I saw him last night, but I just woke up."

Silence hung, heavy and tense. I held my breath, praying he'd buy it. "His scent's right up to your door," Cade said, suspicious, his alpha nose too damn good.

Electra's face flickered with fear, but she rallied. "Yeah, I wasn't feeling well, and he came to check on me." Her voice steadied, convincing.

Cade paused, then softened. "Alright, well, if you're feeling better, come down for breakfast when you can." His boots thudded away, fading down the hall.

When he was gone, I met her shocked gaze. "What happened last night?" I asked, rubbing my face, head pounding like a drum. I remembered her room, her tears, but the rest was a fog—bourbon's cruel trick.

She sat up, hair a mess, green eyes clearer now. "You did what I told Cade—you came to check on me. Left out that you passed out drunk on my bed, which surprised me." She paused, tugging the blanket up. "I didn't have anywhere else to sleep, so... I hope you don't mind I crashed next to you?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing at the ache. "Sorry about that. Drank way too much last night—those shots hit harder than I thought. And thanks for not ratting me out to Cade." I flashed a sheepish grin, head still spinning.

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. "You're welcome. But you better get out of here—Cade'd lose it finding you in my room, especially with my birthday coming." She laughed, light but real, and I chuckled too, the tension easing.

"No, probably not," I said, rolling off the bed, boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. "He'd skin me alive—alpha blood or not, you're his sister." I grabbed the door handle, glancing back. "See you later."

"See you later," she murmured, flopping back onto the pillow, her smile lingering.

I slipped out, the hall quiet save for the distant clatter of breakfast prep downstairs—pancakes sizzling, coffee brewing, pack life stirring. The short walk to my room felt like a victory march, my head throbbing but my chest light. That was one of the best sleeps I'd had in months—her warmth, her scent, the soft give of her bed. I shook it off, shoving the thought deep. Cade catching me there? With her birthday a week out, every unmated wolf sniffing around for a female with alpha blood? I'd be packless—or worse—before I could blink.