6. Rules

CLARA

“Oh?” I murmur, my head tilting slightly. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“A problem I intend to solve,” he bites back.

I lean further back into my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Keep your heroic acts to yourself.”

“As long as you keep your adventurous personality to yourself.”

Oh, absolute fuckingly.

“I can’t promise.” I shrug, and he doesn’t even blink, just looks at me like I’m a mildly disappointing assignment handed to him by fate itself.

Rude. Much.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and sharp. Outside the windows, morning sunlight spills across the polished floors, too warm for the situation. He remains standing a couple feet away, watching me like a hawk.

Annoying. Doesn’t he have any other work?

“Stop staring,” I finally say.

“I wasn’t.”

I let out a soft gasp. “Clearly.”

Deciding enough is enough, I push myself up from the chair, grabbing the napkin beside my plate and tossing it carelessly onto the table.

“Well then, Superman,” I say, stepping up to him. “For us to live in peace, let’s establish some rules.”

“Rule number one,” I begin, holding up a finger. “No staring.”

He doesn’t reply, so I take it as permission to continue.

“Rule number two,” I continue. “No following me everywhere.”

“That defeats the purpose of guarding you.”

“You can guard me from a reasonable distance.”

“Like?”

I wave vaguely upstairs. “Like me in my room and you in yours, doing whatever emotionally unavailable people do.”

“And we keep it to ourselves,” I add under my breath.

He’ll definitely agree. I mean who would willingly follow someone around all day in this palace?

“No.”

“Hu?” My mouth stays open for a second.

“Go on,” he says calmly, and I snap my mouth shut, glaring at him.

“If I say I want privacy, you give me privacy.”

“No.”

I blink. “No?”

“No.”

Does he only know how to say NO?

I point directly at him. “You’re very aggressive for someone employed by me.”

“I’m employed by Alaric.”

Right. Shitface.

“Newsflash, Superman,” I throw air quotes into the air, “Alaric is my husband and I’m your Luna, which means I’m your employer.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he gives one slow nod.

I won.

Oh my God, I actually won.

The human tower just acknowledged me.

With a satisfied exhale, I move past him, but before I even take two steps, I hear it. Footsteps. Following me.

When he said everywhere, he didn’t literally mean everywhere, did he?

I take another step and yup, he did.

Wow.

Now I have a human tower behind me at every step. Better walk carefully or I might end up crashing into a human brick wall.

The long hallway stretches ahead, polished marble gleaming beneath the morning light pouring through the tall windows. My heels tap faster against the floor as I speed up, but he matches the pace easily.

For every one of his steps, I’m taking three. At this rate I could sprint and he’d still somehow just be walking. Honestly, how humiliating it is to be this tall, poor him.

Once I reach my room, I whirl around sharply outside the door.

“Do you plan on following me everywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You’re not safe alone.”

I scoff loudly. “And I’m safe with you?”

He doesn’t answer, not even with his usual no. Even he knows I can never really be safe in this palace, not alone, not under his guard, not anywhere near…wolves.

These wolves.

I recover immediately, forcing a smile. “Cat got your tongue, Superman?”

I step into my room and begin shutting the door directly in his face, just as a black boot wedges between the door before it completely closes.

I stare at it.

Then slowly lift my gaze toward its owner.

“What?”

“Don’t close the door.”

Absolutely not.

I shove harder against it. The muscles in my arms strain uselessly because apparently this human tower was handcrafted out of bricks and steel bars.

“Move your foot.”

“No.”

“Evan.”

“No.”

“You do not order me,” I snap, pushing harder against the door.

Is he fucking immune to pain? Or should I ask for the boots brand?

“I’m doing my job.”

“I want to pee. You want to watch?”

For the first time, his eyes widen slightly and honestly, that tiny reaction gives me more satisfaction than it should. He's at least reactive.

Finally, he steps back, turning around stiffly and positioning himself outside the room. I slam the door shut loudly and collapse onto my bed.

God, where’s Jacob? I miss my blushy face so much.

He was a kind man—well wolf, but he was kind. This human tower, he acts like personal space murdered his family.

Uhh.

I stare up at the ceiling, lavender from the sheets faint in the air around me.

How do I get rid of him? He’s too professional for his own good. Doesn’t he need money? Where's his ambition?

A sudden knock interrupts my thoughts.

Then another.

Ugh. Superman.

I yank the door open aggressively and begin immediately, “You can’t simply—”

He suddenly moves forward, fast, too fast, brushing past me before I can react. His shoulder nearly knocks into mine as he steps directly into my room.

“Excuse me?!” I stare at him in outrage.

He doesn’t even acknowledge me. His gaze sweeps quickly across the room, windows, balcony, corners, everywhere, before turning back toward me calmly like he didn’t just invade my personal space and dignity simultaneously.

“You could’ve escaped through the balcony.”

My mouth falls open.

“What the fuck?”

He closes the door behind him, the click echoing loudly in the room.

“No,” I say immediately, pointing toward the door. “Absolutely not. Out.”

“No.”

“You cannot stay in my room.”

“I can.”

“This is illegal.”

“You didn’t include it in your rules.”

“Well now I do. Do not enter my room.”

“If you agree to this,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “Since when do you start ordering?”

“It’s my duty.”

His answer is so simple, so firm, like it explains everything.

Fuck. Which guarding academy did he graduate from?

His gaze drifts around the room once more before settling back on me.

“No sneaking around. No climbing things.”

“I climbed one balcony.”

“And fell.”

“And then the Superman saved me.” I flash all my teeth at him.

Nothing.

Not even an annoyance.

Either he doesn’t understand sarcasm or he genuinely is emotionless.

“No disappearing without guards.”

“You’re the guard.”

“Exactly.”

He steps closer while saying it, not enough to touch me but enough that I notice the heat coming off him, enough that the room suddenly feels smaller. Well anything would be compared to him.

“And you sleep at night,” he adds.

“Hu.” I snort. “You sound eighty years old.”

“And you sound fifteen.”

“Aww thanks for the compliment.” I wave at him dismissively.

He ignores me again, and honestly, I guess it's his favorite hobby.

Actually, I’m starting to think Alaric handpicked him specifically to annoy me.

“There’s one last rule,” he says.

I sigh dramatically. “Of course there is.”

“No provoking wolves.”

I bark out a laugh. “Sorry, is this a palace or a zoo?”

“It’s a warning, Clara.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes and move closer without thinking. “And it’s Luna to you.”

“Say that to the wolves waiting to tear you apart.”

The words hit too fast.

My body reacts before my mind does.

For one horrible second, I’m not in my room anymore. I’m back there, cold ground digging into my knees, chains cutting into my skin, fur, claws, blood everywhere. Teeth sinking into flesh. My flesh. The sound of bones cracking. My own screaming choking in my throat while Alaric watched like it meant nothing.

My stomach twists violently.

Breathe, Clara.

I force my expression to stay careless even as my fingers curl tighter against my arms, nails pressing crescents into my skin hard enough to hurt.

He notices. His eyes sharpen slightly, too observant, too focused, like he’s watching every crack form in real time.

Then before I can stop myself—

“Don’t ever turn into a wolf around me.”

“Why?” His voice comes lower this time, rougher around the edges.

I let out a laugh that sounds wrong even to me. “Maybe I’m just afraid you’ll tear me to death.”

His gaze holds mine for a second too long, and something shifts in his expression, subtle but enough to make my pulse trip over itself.

Then he moves, one step, then another. Slow enough for me to notice it, fast enough that suddenly he’s there, close enough that the warmth of him presses into the cold air around me. My back instinctively hits the edge of the desk behind me before I even realize I’ve stepped away.

Oh.

That's a little too close.

I tilt my head back automatically and immediately regret it because God, why is he so tall?

I need a ruler. To measure his height and the exact distance from which people should legally speak.

Because right now I feel absurdly small, like an actual fifteen year old getting cornered by a strict teacher. Is that why he said that—

His arm lifts slightly beside me, not touching, just enough to cage me there without actually doing it. What is he doing?

The scent of cedar and rain clings to him, annoyingly clean for someone this insufferable.

And his eyes, too deep, too steady. Like he’s looking at something underneath my skin instead of at me.

“You won’t,” he says quietly.

I frown immediately. “Won’t what?”

“I won't let you die again.”

The words slam into me so hard my heartbeat stutters.

Again.