Claimed And Marked By Her Stepbrother Mates novel Chapter 263

Chapter 263: 263-He Said, Hush Blondie!

Helanie:

"What? What is that look?" I couldn’t understand why he kept glaring at me like that.

"You examined his body? Even after I told you to stay away from him?" Norman hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes clearly showing his disapproval.

"It’s not like I did something wrong. He came in shirtless! What did you expect me to do? Tell him, ’Hey, put on some damn shirt because your brother won’t like it’?" I groaned, reaching to snatch the cotton swab from his hand, but he quickly grabbed it back.

"I told you I don’t need your help. It’s inapp—" he started but stopped abruptly when he noticed I wasn’t listening anymore. I had leaned down to take a closer look at the bite mark on Emmet’s neck.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop examining him?" Norman’s sudden yelling startled me, making me step back instinctively.

"He wouldn’t be okay with you staring at his bare chest—" he began, but before he could make it sound even more awkward, I jumped in to defend myself.

"Can you stop making everything sound so sexual? I’m just worried about him!" I snapped, not understanding why he was so insistent on keeping me away from Emmet right now.

"You don’t need to be. Besides, he probably transitioned, came across some rogue, and got into a fight," he explained, offering his theory.

I didn’t find his explanation convincing at all, but since he kept demanding that I keep my distance, I decided to respect his wishes. I wouldn’t want Emmet to feel uncomfortable.

With a heavy sigh, I walked away and plopped down on the chair with a thud, annoyed beyond belief with Norman. He was like a man plucked straight from my worst nightmares.

I watched him work on Emmet’s wounds, knowing full well that Emmet would heal completely by morning. Until then, though, Norman was doing his part. Once he finished tending to the injuries and had even managed to get a shirt on Emmet, he went to the bathroom to wash his hands before coming back to stand by the bed.

"So, what exactly happened that brought my brother here?" Now that he was done with Emmet, he thought I’d entertain his questions.

I didn’t respond and kept staring out the window. He couldn’t control me. First, he wanted me to shut up, and now he wanted answers.

"I believe I’m asking you something," I could hear the frustration dripping from his voice.

"Your brother already told you everything. Stop looking for excuses to talk to me," I replied, feeling oddly satisfied with how easily I got under his skin. Every time I hinted at him wanting my attention, it seemed to send him into full beast mode.

"Huh? Me? You think I want to talk to you?" he hissed, but I held up my palm to silence him.

"Don’t come asking for my help next time," he shot back. He was such a baby with anger issues. I didn’t say anything else, and he, clearly irritated, stormed over and grabbed the chair I was planning to rest my feet on.

He was breathing like a bull, his chest rising and falling as his eyes lingered on my face. After a moment, he scoffed, about to respond—probably to say he was fine—but then, unfortunately, I lost it again. The laughter bubbled out of me until tears were streaming down my cheeks. _{frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓}

"You’re so annoying, Helanie," I heard him mutter in frustration.

He turned away, walked over to the small closet on the side, and grabbed a sheet. To my surprise, he spread it out on the floor next to the bed and sat down in the dark. That was...odd.

I had expected him to demand the couch or something more comfortable, but instead, he leaned his back against the wall and stretched his legs out as if it didn’t bother him at all.

The room fell silent, and my laughter finally died down. Guilt crept in—I did feel bad, but honestly, his fall had been so funny. For once, he had looked—funny.

I noticed him shifting his legs slightly. One foot rested on top of the other, and every now and then, he’d move one foot, shaking it a little.

It went on for a while. I had my legs pulled up to my chest, dozing off here and there, but every time I woke up, he was still awake. His legs kept shaking throughout the night.

And then I began to wonder—was he not sleepy? He had stormed into the motel like a man on a mission, so I figured he must have been exhausted, even for someone as strong as a werewolf.

But sleep always won with me. After a few times of waking up, I eventually gave in and drifted off completely.