Chapter 27

Shea jumped as Achilles's voice broke the silence. "That's my father and yours."

She turned to find him standing beside her, his eyes fixed on the photograph. "You startled me," she said, her heart racing.

Achilles's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Sorry. I tend to move quietly."

They both gazed at the image for a moment before Achilles continued. "They were best friends, you know. Inseparable since childhood."

Shea's eyes widened. "Really? My dad never mentioned..."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't have," Achilles mused. "Their relationship was... complicated."

"How so?" Shea asked, curiosity burning in her voice.

Achilles ran a hand through his hair. "They were rivals too, in a way. Always trying to outdo each other, push each other to be better. It was a friendly competition, but intense."

Shea studied the photograph more closely. She could see it now - the way both men stood tall, proud, yet there was an underlying tension in their postures.

"My father says your dad was the only one who could truly challenge him," Achilles continued. "In strength, in strategy, in everything. They made each other stronger."

"What happened?" Shea asked softly. "If they were such good friends..."

Achilles's expression darkened. "That's the question, isn't it? Something changed, but I don't know what. My father... he doesn't like to talk about it."

Shea felt a pang of sadness. There was so much she didn't know about her father, so many secrets left unsaid. She turned to Achilles, grateful for this small glimpse into her past.

"Thank you for telling me," she said sincerely.

Achilles nodded, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, something flickered in their depths - a warmth that contrasted sharply with his usual cold demeanor.

Achilles turned away from the photo, the weight of the past sliding off his features, replaced by his usual stoic mask. "It's time for dinner," he announced, his tone abrupt, as if to distance himself from the emotional depths of the conversation.

Shea followed him down the grand staircase, her eyes unwittingly drawn to the contours of his broad shoulders and the way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck. The soft fabric of his shirt clung to his frame, outlining the muscles beneath, and she found herself mesmerized by the effortless grace with which he moved. Her gaze lingered, tracing the line of his spine, the angle of his jaw.

They reached the dining room, and Achilles gestured for her to take a seat at the ornately set table. The silverware gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier, and an array of dishes, each more delectable than the last, filled the air with an enticing aroma.

As Shea sat, she realized she was still staring at Achilles. Her cheeks flushed with warmth, and she quickly averted her eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed. But then she remembered—he wasn't just any guy, he was a werewolf with heightened senses. Her heart thumped louder in her chest, embarrassment coloring her thoughts.

Achilles paused in his movements, the delicate chime of porcelain touching the table with care. He looked at her with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "What is it, Shea?" His voice was a low rumble, curiosity lacing his words.

Caught off guard, Shea's mind raced for an appropriate response. She fidgeted with the hem of the tablecloth, trying to shake off the discomfort that clung to her like a stubborn shadow. "It's nothing," she managed to say, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He cocked an eyebrow, his gaze piercing yet patient. "You've been staring since we left the gallery. Is there something you want to ask?"

Shea felt the heat in her cheeks intensify, the truth of his observation making her squirm in her seat. How could she explain the mixture of attraction and intrigue that overwhelmed her whenever she looked at him? "I—It's just, you move so... differently. I can't help but notice."

A flicker of understanding crossed Achilles's face, and his stern expression softened marginally. "It's the wolf in me. We're built differently, move differently, even when we're in human form." He offered her a small, knowing smile that made her pulse quicken.

The butler arrived with their meals, serving each dish with practiced elegance. As Shea watched Achilles's hands—strong, capable hands that had protected her more than once—she realized there was far more to him than his brooding exterior suggested. She was drawn to his complexity, to the fierce protectiveness he exuded without effort.

With a small nod of thanks to the butler, Achilles turned his attention back to Shea, his demeanor cooling as he picked up his cutlery. "Let's eat. We have a lot to discuss later."

...

As the dinner concluded, Achilles and Shea bid each other goodnight and retired to their respective rooms. Shea found herself in the luxurious bedroom again, far grander than anything she'd experienced before. The bed, a massive four-poster affair, dominated the space with its plush pillows and silken sheets.

She slipped under the covers, immediately enveloped by warmth and comfort. The mattress seemed to mold to her body, cradling her in a cocoon of softness. Shea let out a contented sigh, feeling the day's tension melt away.

Yet, as she lay there in the darkness, a peculiar sensation crept over her. Despite the room's opulence and the bed's coziness, something felt... missing. Her thoughts drifted to Achilles, his stoic presence and the safety she felt around him. An inexplicable urge to have him near washed over her.

Shea imagined his strong arms wrapped around her, his steady heartbeat against her back. The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, the gentle rhythm of his breath on her neck.

Startled by the intensity of these unbidden thoughts, Shea shook her head vigorously. What was wrong with her? She barely knew Achilles. They'd only met yesterday, for heaven's sake! And yet, here she was, yearning for his touch, his presence.

She rolled onto her side, trying to push the images from her mind. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? To feel this way about someone she'd known for such a short time? Shea pulled the covers tighter around herself, as if to ward off these confusing emotions.

As Shea lay there, trying to push away her confusing thoughts, something peculiar began to happen. A tingling sensation spread through her body, starting from her core and radiating outward. At first, she thought it might be a trick of her imagination or perhaps a side effect of the luxurious accommodations. But as the feeling intensified, she knew something was definitely amiss.

Shea's breath quickened, and her heart raced as the arousal grew more insistent. She became acutely aware of her body, every nerve ending seemingly on fire with desire. Her skin felt sensitive to the touch, her nipples hardening beneath the soft sheets.

She tried to focus on something else, anything to distract herself from the mounting sensations. But the more she attempted to ignore it, the more intense the arousal became. Shea's mind was flooded with images of Achilles, his powerful form and the way his eyes seemed to see into her soul.

It was as if her body was betraying her, craving something she knew she couldn't have. Shea's thoughts became more frantic, her breathing shallow as she tried to regain control. But the desire continued to build, threatening to consume her.

Panic began to set in as Shea realized she couldn't stop the surge of sensations. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, and she felt powerless to resist it. The room seemed to spin around her, the darkness closing in as her mind clouded with desire.

She wanted... needed... Achilles. The thought shocked her to her core, but she couldn't deny the truth any longer. The intensity of her feelings was almost overwhelming, and she found herself reaching out for something, anything to ground her.

Her fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of the sheets, and a sudden flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn't have Achilles, but perhaps she could find some release, some way to quell the storm of desire raging within her.

Taking a shaky breath, Shea slipped her hand beneath the sheets, seeking out the source of her arousal. As her fingers touched her swollen flesh, a jolt of pleasure shot through her body. She gasped, her hips instinctively arching into the touch.

Emboldened by the sensation, Shea began to explore her body, her fingers dancing over her sensitive skin. Each touch sent tremors through her, the feeling both exhilarating and terrifying. She was completely consumed by the sensations, her thoughtsreduced to primal urges and desires.

As the pressure built within her, Shea knew she was dangerously close to the edge. Her fingers moved with increasing urgency, seeking the release she so desperately needed. The waves of pleasure crashed over her, each one more intense than the last, but no that wasn't enough.