"Ready?" I ask, placing my hands on his broad shoulders for balance.
Another nod, and then I'm being lifted into the air as if I weigh nothing at all. The world tilts and shifts as he raises me toward the platform. I reach up, grabbing the metal railing to steady myself as he lifts me higher.
Then my foot catches on the edge of his coat, throwing me slightly off balance. My grip on the railing slips. Wraith adjusts instantly, his hands shifting to better support me, but the sudden movement brings our faces unexpectedly close.
Our noses brush, a whisper of contact that sends electricity shooting through my entire body.
Time freezes.
We're suspended in this moment, our faces inches apart, his blue eyes wide with surprise. Through the thin fabric of his mask, I can feel his breath against my lips, slightly uneven. His woodsy scent fills my lungs, making my head spin.
Something flashes in those eyes—hunger, longing, fear—before he blinks it away. His grip on my waist tightens fractionally, his fingers pressing into my slight frame beneath his oversized coat.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic rhythm I'm certain he can feel through his palms. The air between us feels charged, crackling with an energy I can't name but recognize bone-deep.
Then, with a gentle push, he lifts me the rest of the way onto the platform, breaking the spell. I scramble onto the metal grating, suddenly unsteady. When I look down, Wraith has already stepped back, his expression unreadable above his mask.
"Thanks," I manage, my voice sounding strangely breathless to my own ears.
He nods once, then reaches up to grab the edge of the platform. With a single, fluid movement that speaks of incredible strength, he pulls himself up beside me, the metal creaking slightly under his weight.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us moving, the tension from our almost-kiss still hanging in the air between us. Then Wraith gestures toward the stairs leading up to the loft, his movements stiff and formal.
After you.
I turn and begin climbing, acutely aware of his presence behind me. Each step up the fire escape feels like it's taking me further from the chaos below and closer to the sanctuary I've somehow carved out for myself in the place I least expected I'd be safe. An alpha's den.
The window to the loft is still open from when I climbed out earlier. I duck through it, Wraith following close behind. The familiar space welcomes me back, the scent of pho still lingering in the air.
God, I'm hungry.
Wraith takes my coat—hiscoat—and hangs it up on the rack before offering me another sweatshirt of his. "Thanks," I say, pulling it on. The air in the loft is nippier after the window was left open, and the warm fabric with his scent clinging to it feels heavenly against my skin.
He doesn't respond this time. Instead, he moves past me to the coffee table where he left the takeout bag. He busies himself with unpacking the food, his movements mechanical and stiff. There's a new tension in his strong shoulders that wasn't there before.
He's shutting down. Pulling away.
I recognize the signs because I've done the same thing countless times. When emotions become too overwhelming, whenvulnerability feels too dangerous, you retreat behind walls. You go through the motions. You pretend everything is fine while keeping everyone at arm's length.
But I don't want that.
Not with him. Not after everything.
"Wraith," I say softly.
He pauses but doesn't turn around, his massive frame going still.
"Can we talk? About what happened downstairs? About... us?"
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he finally turns to face me. His blue eyes meet mine, guarded and wary, but he nods.
I take a step toward him, then another, closing some of the distance between us. "You knew we were scent matches, didn't you? From the beginning?" I ask, keeping my voice gentle despite my nerves amping up.
His hands lift, hesitating, before lowering. He just nods instead without an explanation.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Looking away, his jaw works visibly beneath his mask. When his hands move again, the signs are slow, deliberate.
