This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,72

smile back at me before he inclines his head toward his bedroom. “The offer stands, Tessa.”

He told me I could sleep in his room tonight.

Now he means with him in it.

“No fucking chance,” I snap.

I’m dazzled by his broadening smile. He seems infuriatingly pleased with my rebuke. He casts his jeans aside as he enters his room and leaves the door wide open, stalking into the bathroom and leaving that door open too.

He leaves me with an ache I can’t ease and a set of elevator doors that I can’t open.

Chapter Nineteen

I sleep fitfully on the couch. I miss the forest sounds of my bedroom at Hidden House. I also miss Ella’s humming. Being so far away from Hidden House gives rise to heartache.

I’m vengefully satisfied to hear Tristan tossing and turning as much as I am. Finally, the glow of sunrise hits the horizon and I have an excuse to abandon my attempts to sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I slip my legs over the edge of the couch and sigh out my frustration.

Breakfast can wait. I need to beat the crap out of a boxing bag.

The only way that’s going to happen is if I steal Tristan’s security card.

I narrow my eyes at his bedroom in the distance before I lower my feet to the carpet floor, drawing my wolf’s energy awake and harnessing it to creep across the floor.

Quiet mice have nothing on me right now.

I pause at the door, listening to his deep breathing.

I smile because he’s finally asleep.

Prowling one silent step at a time, I enter the bedroom, only to sway like I’m drunk at the concentration of power that confronts me. The white wolf said that shifters are a shadow compared to us, but I’m sure Tristan is in a different league.

If Tristan and I were allies, I would tell him about the white wolf. I could ask Tristan about the three-headed wolf that he’s worried about. Hell, if we were allies, I would help him fight the three-headed beast. As much as I want to rage against Tristan for caging me, I don’t have any reason to hate his pack or wish them harm.

My shoulders slump as I remember Carly and Becca and the way Becca curled into me, seeking my help. I didn’t feel a connection with her like Tristan must feel—a sense of being pack—but I felt protective of her. I wanted to help.

Even though I struggle to push away Tristan’s power, the sight of the security card on his bedside table drives me onward.

Tristan is asleep on his stomach, lying across his bed at an angle, the white bedsheets curled around his hips leaving his upper body bare along with his calves and feet. One of his arms rests under a pillow thrown to the left, while his head rests on the corner of another pillow, which is also caught around his other arm.

I smother a self-righteous giggle.

Any woman who dares to sleep in a bed with Tristan Masters had better be prepared to be jostled in her sleep.

Fixing that thought in my mind, I make it all the way to the bedside table and reach delicately for the security card. Holding my breath, I slowly curl my fingers around it and lift it off the surface without scraping it against the table.

I continue to hold my breath all the way to the bedroom door as I backstep toward it and creep across to the elevator.

Now, the tricky part is going to be if the elevator dings when it arrives. I can’t remember if it did that last night…

I suck air across my teeth.

It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.

Swiping the card, I press the down button and prepare to move quickly.

The doors open with a swoosh, I dart inside, and they close again.

Yes!

Oh, the small wins.

I press the button for the eleventh floor, preparing for the freedom of punching the lights out of a boxing bag when the elevator doors open right back up again.

Tristan glares at me.

His hair is tousled. He has dark rings under his eyes. He’s wearing jeans that he must have pulled on in a hurry because his zipper isn’t done up, let alone the top button. He leans against the opening doors, arm raised in a way that accentuates the muscles across his stomach and biceps.

I smother an inward sigh, unimpressed at how quickly he woke up and came after me.

Arching an eyebrow at him, I point to the buttons where the eleventh floor is