Claimed By My Stepbrother novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

Camila POV

Ethan, who was leaning back on his seat, blinked and tilted his head at me. “Hmm?”

I turned to fully face him, heart thudding hard again for an entirely different reason now. “My mom, I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “She’s Greg’s mate, right? Doesn’t that mean she has… that scent too?”

For a second, he just stared at me. Then he shook his head like he found the question amusing in that weird way of his. “Oh, no, he said, casual as anything. “Only female mates who haven’t been imprinted yet have that scent. Greg imprinted your Mom, Camila.

Silence.

Like real, heavy, holy–shit kind of silence.

My stomach dropped so fast I swear it knocked the air out of my lungs. I stared at him, eyes wide, brain stuttering like a damn glitching TV screen.

Wait-

Wait a fucking minute-

“What the fuck,” I breathed out.

Ethan raised a brow, but his expression stayed frustratingly calm.

“You mean to tell me,” I started, heart hammering, “that there’s a way to get this… target, this scent, this giant invisible BULLSEYE off my back–and you didn’t even think of mentioning it to me?!”

He blinked. Slowly. “Camila-”

“Imprint me then!” I snapped, storming toward him, the waffle forgotten on the counter behind me. My fingers gripped the front of his shirt before my brain could even catch up to what I was doing. “Do it, goddammit! If it’ll keep them away, then imprint me!”

I don’t even know when the tears started, but suddenly my vision was blurring and my throat was aching and everything felt so loud in my head. Too loud. All of it. The screams from last night. The blood. The goddamn bodies. The soft, innocent way he smiled through it like it was nothing. Like he had done it for me.

Maybe he had.

And maybe that’s why I was falling apart.

His hands hovered at my sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. His whole face changed–gone was that soft smile, replaced with a worried crease between his brows, his eyes darting all over my face like he was trying to memorize me. Or maybe figure out how to fix me.

“Camila…” he said, almost pleading.

“I’m fine,” I lied–harsh and shaky. My fingers balled tighter in his shirt. “I’m fucking fine. Let’s just do the imprint, and get the fuck out of this house. I can’t–I can’t keep living like this.”

He flinched, and I realized my voice had cracked in the middle. Shit. Why did erying make everything sound so goddamn pathetic?

“Camila…” he said again, slower this time, like he was preparing to deliver a blow. “It doesn’t work like that.”

My breath hitched. “What?”

1/3.

Chapter 109

He looked down at me, and I noticed–finally noticed the color in his cheeks. Bright. Red. Spreading like wildfire across hit lae ind nec

His eyes darted away for a second.

“The imprint…” he said, voice lower now. “…it only happens through sex.”

My hands froze on his shirt.

The tears didn’t fall this time. They just stopped, dried up like someone hit a kill switch in my brain. And for a second, all I could do was stare up at him like he had grown three extra heads.

“What?” I croaked.

He was still blushing. This goddamn six–foot–tall werewolf who had absolutely zero shame in painting the floor with intruder guts could barely meet my eyes now.

“The bond needs… full physical consummation to activate,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in a spot on the wall behind me. ‘Otherwise it’s dormant. That’s why unmated females still have the scent. Once it’s… done, the bond settles. The scent disappears.”

I was still gripping his shirt, but my arms felt like noodles now.

Was this some sick joke? Was the universe just messing with me at this point? Like, “Hey Camila, you know that horrible stalker–y werewolf boy who followed you around like a puppy with a taste for blood? Good news! You can be safe from murderous secret agents if you just… fuck

him.”

“Are you kidding me?” I whispered.

Ethan shook his head, finally meeting my eyes again. His face had gone completely serious, the blush fading a little but still stubbornly clinging to his ears. “I wouldn’t joke about that.”

Of course not. Mr. Eternal Soft Smile didn’t joke. He just said terrifying things in the calmest tone possible and expected people to roll

with it.

I let go of his shirt. Slowly. Like it had suddenly grown teeth and might bite me back.

“Great,” I muttered, stepping away from him and dragging a hand through my hair. “Fantastic. I can’t even go five minutes without discovering another reason my life is an actual horror novel.”

Ethan didn’t say anything, just stood there watching me like I was a live wire.

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