The Three Who Chose Me
Chapter 64: Dirt, Doubts and Dangerous Looks

Chapter 64: Dirt, Doubts and Dangerous Looks

Josie

The next morning, I groaned as fingers tugged gently at my hair.

"Please, miss. You have to let me clean you up," a soft voice said.

My eyes blinked open to find one of the house maids standing beside the bed, holding a basin of warm water and folded towels. I sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to my chest.

"I can clean myself," I muttered groggily.

"But Alpha Kiel insisted you should rest. He said—"

"I don’t care what he said," I snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness in my tone. "I’m sorry... I just prefer to do things myself."

The maid nodded, hesitant. "If you say so, miss. But he’s waiting downstairs."

That got my attention.

I looked at her. "Kiel?"

"Yes, miss. He asked that you join him as soon as you’re ready."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "What about Thorne and Varen? Are they not downstairs too?"

She shook her head. "They travelled early this morning for a pack meeting. They may not return until nightfall."

My heart sank.

Of course they were gone. And of course Kiel was the one who stayed. After what happened last night—his lips on mine, his arms around me—I knew why. Or at least I thought I did. Still, part of me wondered—did Thorne and Varen leave because they were angry? Because they saw me give in to Kiel? Did I do something wrong?

The spiral of guilt and self-loathing that I’d trained myself to fight off my entire life began to claw its way back in. I hated this—the constant second guessing, the weight of feeling like I was doing something wrong just by existing.

I got up and freshened up quickly, tying my hair back into a loose braid and throwing on a soft white blouse and pale pants. Comfortable enough, but far from suited for whatever I imagined Kiel had planned.

As I descended the stairs, I found him standing by the front door... wearing gloves.

Thick, dark, soil-stained gloves.

I blinked, confused. "Why are you wearing gloves?"

He turned, a smirk playing on his lips. "Because we’re going gardening."

I paused on the last step. "Gardening?"

"Yup."

A laugh of disbelief escaped me. "I don’t—why?"

"Because," he said cheerfully, "the garden out back is a mess, and I figured we could fix it together."

"I—" I started to protest, searching my mind for any excuse not to.

He strode forward, closed the space between us, and suddenly hoisted me over his shoulder.

"Kiel!" I squealed, kicking my legs lightly as I thumped his back. "Put me down!"

He laughed, voice rich with amusement. "Don’t try to run. It’s too late now."

"I am not dressed to garden!" I cried, feeling utterly betrayed by the softness of the outfit I’d chosen.

"You’re wearing pants," he countered.

"They’re white pants!"

"Perfect for gardening, then," he teased.

He carried me out onto the sun-drenched back lawn, past the stone patio and onto the overgrown trail that led to the tangled excuse for a garden. I squirmed as he finally set me down on a patch of grass, standing back with a smug grin.

"This is kidnapping," I huffed.

"This is bonding," he corrected.

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "If I get dirt on my pants, I swear—"

"You’ll what?" he challenged, stepping closer. "Drag me back to your room and punish me?"

I turned scarlet. "You’re such a jerk."

"You like me though," he said, pulling on his gloves tighter.

I didn’t respond to that.

Because I wasn’t sure what the truth was.

Instead, I muttered, "I have no gardening skills. Just so you know."

"I figured," he said, grabbing a trowel. "But don’t worry. I’ll teach you."

I wanted to run. More than that, I wanted Marcy to come charging through the hedges with a fake emergency. Something. Anything.

But she didn’t come.

And I didn’t move.

Instead, I watched as Kiel knelt in the soil, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His black shirt clung to his back, damp from the sun. I watched the way his hair—always unruly—fell forward, and how he kept pushing it back with a grunt of annoyance, smearing dirt across his brow without realizing it.

The sunlight bounced off the silver hoops and studs lining his ears. There were so many. And one on his lower lip. I remembered what it felt like last night, that cool metal brushing against my mouth.

My core tightened involuntarily, and I squeezed my thighs together.

Damn it, Josie.

I swallowed hard and crouched beside him.

"Did the piercings hurt?" I asked quietly.

He looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"The piercings," I gestured vaguely at his face. "Did they hurt when you got them?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I kind of like the pain."

That shouldn’t have made me feel warm, but it did.

He reached for another seedling, burying it carefully in the soil. His long fingers worked the dirt gently, almost reverently, as if he were touching something sacred.

"Your turn," he said, handing me a plant.

I hesitated, looking at the spotless white of my pants, then at the muddy ground.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Don’t worry, princess," he said. "If you get dirty, I’ll clean you up myself."

I threw him a look. "Charming."

With a sigh, I moved closer and began to reach for a small plant in front of me. But as I shifted to grab it, something caught my attention behind it. A glint. Something shiny, buried halfway in the dirt.

I frowned and leaned closer.

A knife.

It was half-hidden beneath the leaves, but unmistakable—slim, curved, silver, with an engraved hilt.

What the hell?

I reached for it quickly, but my fingers brushed the edge of a leaf instead.

And that was when it happened.

The plant jolted under my touch. It vibrated—then bloomed suddenly, bursting with unnatural speed into full color and height. The air crackled around it, leaves unfurling in a slow-motion dance that should have taken weeks, not seconds.

My breath caught. My heart pounded.

I backed away instinctively, staring at the plant in disbelief. The knife was forgotten.

What the hell did I just do?

I turned slowly, fear rising in my throat like bile.

And that’s when I saw him.

Kiel.

Standing there.

Watching me.

His gloves dangled from his fingers now, forgotten. His brow was furrowed, and his lips were slightly parted. He’d seen it. All of it.

My breath stilled in my lungs.

My feet froze to the ground.

And the only thing I could do was stare back... at those sharp, unreadable eyes... and wonder what the hell he was thinking.