Chapter 1208:

Every instinct she had honed over the years kicked into overdrive. Her eyes snapped open as her hand moved with practiced silence toward the loaded pistol on her nightstand. She slid her feet to the cold marble floor without making a sound.

Abruptly, a large, calloused hand clamped down over her mouth, cutting off any sound she might have made.

Elena’s body went into full combat mode, muscles tensing as she thrashed against her attacker, but the tall, powerful figure overpowered her completely, pulling her into a tight embrace. Then, that scent hit her—that achingly familiar cologne mixed with something distinctly his—and she froze.

“Don’t make a sound. It’s me,” he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and familiar.

Her eyes widened. It was really him—Wesley! His scent wrapped around her like a drug, that intoxicating mixture of expensive cologne and raw masculinity that had always made her knees weak. For a moment, her mind completely short-circuited.

Then, with both hands, she shoved him away, her heart hammering against her ribs. He stumbled back and pressed his broad shoulders against the ornate wall.

Even in the pitch-black room, Elena’s eyes had adjusted enough to take in every detail of his appearance. Her gaze traced the sharp angles of his face, the strong jaw she remembered so well, before traveling down his tall frame and stopping abruptly at his midsection.

When he had pulled her into his embrace moments ago, that metallic scent had been unmistakable. He was bleeding, and badly.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his injured torso, and Wesley’s lips curved into that infuriating smirk she remembered all too well. He drawled, “Damn, Elena, you’re really giving me the once-over. Miss me that much?”

Elena’s brow furrowed with a mixture of concern and irritation. He was clearly hurt, bleeding through his shirt, and still had the nerve to flirt. Pressing her lips together in annoyance, she grabbed his collar with both hands and yanked it open to get a better look at his injuries.

Her fingers, soft and warm against his skin, accidentally grazed his bare chest as she examined him, and Wesley’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his dark eyes growing more intense. He caught her wrist in his large hand, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “If you want a better look, I can take the whole damn thing off.”

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Without waiting for her response, he tugged his blood-stained shirt free from his pants, the fabric pulling away from his injured skin.

Elena’s mind went completely blank, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The smell of blood was so strong it made her stomach turn, and dark stains spread across his shirt. The wound had to be serious, yet here he was, still trying to seduce her like nothing had happened.

Wesley’s fingers tightened around her wrist as he pulled his shirt open wider, exposing more of his chest. “Come on, don’t be shy. Touch me as you please.”

Elena pinched his chest hard enough to make him wince, and he hissed through his teeth. She looked him straight in the eye and said flatly, “Cut the crap, Wesley. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Behave yourself if you don’t want to bleed out.”

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