Thorne | Arms Length

Today’s plan was so fucking simple: keep her completely at arm’s length. Ignore the pull that’s been threatening to tear me in half since she walked through my doors. Focus on the endless pile of shit on my desk, bury every goddamn thought of Maci Carter in spreadsheets and contracts.

It should’ve been easy. It needed to be easy. I handle distractions daily, split my life into two separate worlds without breaking a sweat.

But none of those distractions wear thrift-store clothes like battle armour, smile like they’ve never known darkness, or look at me with those wide, doe eyes that feel like they’re peeling back layers I’ve spent years burying.

And the result of my foolproof plan? I spent the entire day glued to the monitors in my office, watching her. Watching her settle at her desk, tilt her head as she adjusted her screen, tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear in a way that made me want to wrap it around my fist.

Then, Ethan. That smarmy prick, or, walking fucking dead man, was all over her instantly. Brushing his arm against her arm, leaning in too close, lingered like he thought he could actually stand a chance. She smiled politely, harmless. But it didn’t fucking matter. That smile wasn’t for him. It shouldn’t be for anyone but me.

The sight of it crawled under my skin. And then the bastard brushed her chest. Her body recoiled, just a flinch, but it was enough to make my vision blur red. I had his number dialled before he even took his next breath.

Within five minutes, he was tucked in the basement, assigned to shred a mountain of files so tall it would keep him busy until his fingers bled. A ‘high-priority task’ I assured him. His face when I checked in was priceless, furious. I couldn’t give a single fuck.

Because I couldn’t stop picturing her flinch. That subtle movement replayed in my mind on a loop, dragging every protective instinct to the surface. Ethan's lucky I didn’t rip his fucking throat out. Lucky.

Out of sight. Out of Maci’s reach. Out of my way.

Shoving Ethan in purgatory should’ve been enough to extinguish the fire clawing at my insides, but the rage didn’t settle. It sat in my chest like hot coals, smouldering, feeding on itself. A constant reminder that I have no right to feel this way. She’s not mine. Not yet. But that knowledge didn’t stop the thought from taking root, from growing, from becoming an inferno.

I’d raze the entire world if it meant keeping her safe.

Every one of her movements today was a study in distraction. She didn’t even know I was watching, but she had me locked in place. A moth to a flame, and I hated myself for it. Fucking pathetic.

The day’s ending, and I’m in a piss-poor mood. She’s one of a hundred faces in this building, and yet… Every time someone got too close to her desk, spoke to her, lingered in her air, I had to force myself not to storm down there and break bones, snap necks, leave them bleeding.

And then she scurried out of the office and hit 3 on the elevator.

For a moment, I thought she was leaving. But maybe she feels the invisible string too. I can keep repeating how little I care, pretending that I wasn’t waiting for her to show up, but it's a lie. The second she hit my floor, anticipation snapped through my veins. I wanted to see her again. Stand in the same space. Breathe her in. Hear whatever excuse she’d use to invade my sanctuary this time.

Then she appeared. Glassy-eyed. Chin trembling. Struggling to hold herself together.

Something inside me snapped.

This wasn’t the anger I’d been battling all day. This was deeper, darker, primal. Completely fucking irrational, and the rage that burned through me was volcanic.

My instincts roar to fix it. To take whatever has hurt her and crush it in my bare hands. To promise her, she’ll never have to look like that again, because I’m here, and I’ll take the hurt, the fear, the weight of the world off her shoulders.

But I don’t say any of that. I stay cold, detached, because I have to. Because getting close is dangerous, for both of us. This is the right move, isn’t it? The only move?

I didn’t even think when I moved across the room. Too fast. My control slipped, my restraint cracked. I’m a pro at hiding what I am from humans, but the second she turned to walk away, the second I knew something was wrong, I was in front of her before she could blink. Her wide eyes gave her away, but I ignored it, clamping down on the need to soothe, to touch, to fix.

She shifts on her feet, crumbling in front of me. Small pieces fall away and it’s killing me. Then she spills it.

It’s the fucking messages.

“The phone. Now.” My voice is harsh, but the storm inside me isn’t. It’s tearing through every thread of logic.

I scroll through the texts, my thumb swiping over the screen too hard. I don’t care if I crack the fucking thing. The words blink back at me, vague and threatening, but what they imply…

“What the fuck.”

The curse slips out, a low growl rumbling from my chest. I’m muttering to myself now, trying to piece it together. These aren’t random, not some idiot playing a game.

They’re deliberate, calculated. Too sharp to be a coincidence. But are they about me? Am I the him they keep mentioning? And what secret? What don’t I know about her?

I lift my gaze to Maci, pinning her with a stare as heavy as the questions battering my skull.

“What secret do they know, Maci?”

Her lips part, but no sound comes. The sheen of unshed tears pools in her wide eyes, and when she finally speaks, her voice is so small I almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t know what they mean.”

Lie.

The word barrels through me, as loud and clear as a gunshot. Her pulse jumps in her throat, erratic, frantic, a rhythm I can feel in my bones. Her scent shifts, twisting with nerves.

That was a lie. I can smell it on her.

What is she hiding? And why do I already know it’s going to rip me apart?

“Oh, I think you do.” I step closer, deliberately invading her space, crowding her against the weight of my presence. 

She flinches and it cuts deeper than I expect. Fuck. I hate that I’m making this harder for her, that I’m adding to her fear when every molecule in my body wants to protect her. But I can’t soften it, not when my veins are on fire, not when someone thinks they can mess with her like this.

“Forward the messages to me. Now.”

Her fingers fumble with her phone. She’s not just lying, she’s scared. But of what? The messages? Or me? The thought lands like a punch, leaving an ache.

“Maci.” Dragging her wide eyes back to mine. “What. Is. The. Secret?”

Her lips part on a gasp. She’s floundering, and I let her. Give her a chance to come clean, or to dig herself deeper. I can see her searching for words, hear the hitch in her breath as she flails for something convincing.

“I...I really don’t know.” Her voice is a whisper, weak, shaking. “I have no secrets. I’m not that interesting.”

Another lie.

She’s hiding something, lying to me, and worse, lying to herself. I want to roar, demand she see herself for what she really is. Not small. Not insignificant. She’s the brightest fucking thing in this bleak, miserable world.

She’s mine.

But I say none of that. Because lies don’t deserve comfort, and she’s definitely lying.

The heat of her deflection pulses. My wolf snarls, I want to pin her against the wall until every barrier she’s thrown up between us shatters. Until she spills her truth, her everything, to me, and only me.

Instead, I take a slow, deliberate breath. The sharp bite of my fangs threatens to push through, and I have to lock my jaw, because that would be an even bigger problem right now. My beast wants to tear that lie apart, to strip it away until there’s nothing left but raw, honest Maci.

I’m fighting not to lose control. But fuck, she’s making it difficult.

Her chin wobbles again, the smallest tremble. My anger twists, morphing into something far darker, more primal. A thought claws its way to the surface, brutal and unstoppable: What would she look like with those tears falling for me? Choking on the tip of my cock, her lips stretched wide, my name a desperate plea as she begged for more?

It’s too vivid, my cock hardens in response, throbbing against the restriction of my slacks. I shift my weight, trying to disguise the pressure. If she glances down, she’ll see the evidence of how I really feel. Nothing like a hard on to ruin whatever fragile trust I’ve managed to scrape together.

She’s still staring up at me, those wide, tear-bright eyes catching the light and looking so fucking vulnerable it makes my chest ache. Vulnerable, not weak. There’s a fire, hidden beneath the cracks, and it draws me in even as it terrifies me.

I hate myself for even thinking of her like this, for wanting her on her knees when she’s clearly so rattled.

“Send me the messages, Maci.” I hand her the phone. Trembling fingers take it.

She’s feeling too much, I can’t read her. Is she more nervous or scared? I hate both options. I hate that she’s caught in this spiral, that I can’t fix without breaking everything else in the process.

All I can do is stand there, battling my own darkness while she struggles to fight hers.

“Why do you care?” I see on her face that those words just tumbled out of her, she didn’t want to ask it. It’s soft enough to punch straight through my chest. There’s a quiet challenge to it.

My expression to her is cold, neutral. Inside, it's a riot. Why do I care? Because every time she breathes, she pulls me closer to losing the very control I’ve built my entire life around. Because I want her, need her, in ways I don’t even fully understand yet. But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her anything.

“I don’t care.”

Lie.

It’s acid on my tongue.

She mask her expression quickly, a pro at hiding. Her chin lifts in that stubborn way she does when she's trying to project ‘put together Maci’. I want to take it back, tear the words from existence.

Her shoulders square, and she nods, taking a deliberate step back.

“I get it. I’ll get out of your way.”

I should let her go. Let her think I mean it. But the thought of her leaving this room, thinking I don’t care, burns like a brand in my chest.

“I don’t care about much, Maci,” The words are ash in my mouth. “It’s not personal. I just don’t appreciate anyone threatening my employees. I’ll keep looking into it.”

Another lie.

One that sits heavier than the last. She’s not just another employee, and we both know it.

Moving to step around me, her chin tilts higher like she’s daring me to stop her. That quiet defiance, steel beneath her softness, it makes my blood burn hotter. I'm aching to reach for her, to make her understand.

“Wait.” The word stops her in her tracks.

Her back is to me, her shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think she might keep walking. But ever so slowly, she turns, her eyes locking on mine, shutters completely up.

“I don’t just say things to say them,” I’m pulling the words from somewhere deep. But I don’t soften it. “When I tell you I’m handling it, it means I am handing it. No one touches you. Not while I’m here.”

Surprise flickers across her face, but I’m already too far gone to stop. The floodgates are open, and I let the words spill out.

“You think you’re just another employee? Fine. Convince yourself of that if it helps you sleep. But hear me now. When someone comes for you, when they try to worm their way into your head, if they so much as breathe wrong in your direction, you come to me.” I step closer, eating the space between us until she’s forced to tip her chin up to meet my gaze. “No exceptions.”

My eyes betray me, dipping to her parted lips for a second too long before I pull back. Distance. I need distance. Every cell in my body screams to close the gap again.

“You’re not alone in this,” I tell her, quieter but no less charged. “No matter what happens, you’re mine to protect.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, she nods. It’s hesitant, but it’s enough.

“Okay.”

“Good.” No, don’t reach out, don’t tie her in the corner to keep her safe, send her away. “Go home, Maci. And if another message comes through, text me. Immediately.”

Her teeth catch on her bottom lip, and my focus zeroes in. I want to suck that lip between my teeth, bite it for her and feel how soft they really are. 

“I don’t want to bother you. You’re my boss. It feels weird, like I’m overstepping.”

Let’s crush that distance she’s trying to create. “If it’s you, Maci. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

She nods, more certain this time, and without another word, she walks past me. I let her go. Watching her leave, what I know for sure, is I’ll burn the world before I ever let her out of my reach again.

Vibration breaks the silence. It’s been seconds and I want it to be her texting me. Fuck, I need it to be her.

But one glance at the screen locks my muscles tight, the name glaring back at me.

'Don’t forget. Council meeting. Midnight.'

The sender makes my teeth grind. Of all the people I wanted to avoid today, he’s at the top of the list.

Cade.

The last person I should ever share blood with.