Alle Kapitel von My Arrogant Stepbrother Is My Mate!: Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

POV SIENNAThe drive back up the mountain highway was a minefield of unspoken tension. Killian did not speak a single word the entire way, yet the air inside the Porsche hummed with such heavy pressure that the reinforced windows seemed to vibrate. His knuckles remained white against the leather steering wheel, his grip so tight it looked ready to leave marks. I huddled against the passenger door, pulling my knees to my chest and pretending to watch the fir trees blur past like dark silhouettes beneath the fading twilight.When we passed through the manor gates, Marcus and my mother were in the rear greenhouse, examining floral arrangements for Saturday’s formal dinner. Their presence spared us the need for explanations, a relief that lasted only a moment. I took the stairs two at a time, locked myself in my room with both latches drawn, and slid down the wood until I sat on the floor. My hands would not stop shaking. The weight of his fingers tangled in my hair, the heat of his palm

POV SIENNAAt seven o’clock in the morning, the bathroom mirror gave me back the image of someone barely holding themselves together. Dark circles showed clearly beneath my eyes, my hair was a tangled mess, and my lower lip felt swollen, tender, and faintly red. I brushed my thumb gently over the corner of my mouth, my fingers trembling for no reason I could name. It still burned. It still tasted like him, burnt cedar, cold mountain night, and that electric storm that seemed to have settled beneath my skin like something sweet and dangerous.No one had ever kissed me like that.Jaxon had never kissed me like that. With Jaxon everything was soft, hurried, and comfortable, almost a routine between classes or after a movie, warm and safe but never enough to make the world fall away. I had never truly struggled to breathe before; no one had ever kissed me with such hungry urgency that emptied my lungs and left me forgetting my own name. Killian had kissed me as if he would burn the whole

POV KILLIANThe forty‑second floor of the Thorne Capital tower offered the most impressive view across the entire metropolis, yet right now it only filled me with an overwhelming urge to smash the tempered glass wall with my bare fists.It was half past ten in the morning.On my solid mahogany desk lay three quarterly financial reports from the timber division and a contract to acquire a shipping line based on the north coast, all waiting only for my signature. I held a Montblanc pen between my fingers, yet I had not signed a single page. I could not.The taste of sweet ash and wild strawberry lingered deep in my throat as fresh as a burn. Every time I blinked, spreadsheets and performance graphs vanished and I saw Sienna pinned against white sheets, the golden glow swallowing the hazel of her eyes, and that ragged breath soft and yielding, slipping straight against my mouth when I bit her.My wolf scratched inside my chest with agonising slowness, restless, growling steadily south, t

POV SIENNAThe waiter poured the red wine with precise care, filling each cut‑crystal glass barely one‑third full before placing the plates down and retreating quietly behind the dark panels. The steak steamed on warm volcanic stone, seared dark and golden at the edges and deep red at the centre, glistening, almost rare. Its wild, iron‑rich scent hit my instincts at once. My she‑wolf turned restlessly inside my chest, tasting the air with a satisfaction I struggled to hide. I picked up my knife and fork, cutting a small piece while keeping my eyes lowered."Enjoy your meal, Hayes," Killian said, lifting his glass of Cabernet Sauvignon with a calm that raised goosebumps along my spine.I ate in silence for a few minutes, pretending the food was the only thing that mattered. The meat was exquisite, tender as butter, and the wine carried a finish of blackberries and oak that warmed my throat and softened the tightness in my shoulders. Killian ate with the same deliberate grace, measured

POV SIENNAThe tension in the great hall finally softened into awkward laughter and Marcus stepped in with calm diplomacy to settle the matter. He said a matching emerald shawl lined with soft faux fur would be made to calm what he called his son’s fraternal and territorial jealousy. If only he knew the truth, I thought as I watched them. There was no brotherly bond between us to soothe with fabric or words. What pulled us together ran far deeper, far older and far more dangerous.When the dressmakers rolled away their bolts of fabric and tape measures and the house fell into midnight stillness, my nerves felt stretched so tight they might snap. I stepped into a hot shower to wash away the smell of fresh linen and the ghost of Killian’s fingers brushing my bare shoulder. When I opened the wardrobe to find something to sleep in, the truth struck me plainly. My soft worn cotton clothes were still tucked away inside my suitcases, unpacked and forgotten, while the hangers were filled with