Grayson eased her back to the ground but didn’t let her go. His mouth found her throat, licking and sucking as his fingers returned to tease her sensitive flesh. Another tremor ran through her, and her nails dug into his shoulders.
“God, Cora,” he murmured against her ear. “The way you sound. The way you taste. I could live in you.”
She shuddered and turned her head, capturing his lips. The kiss was rough and desperate, but when she pulled him closer, the snap of a nearby twig was enough to bring her back to her senses.
Grayson froze, and they both turned toward the sound. When nothing moved, she relaxed and glanced back at him. This was a bad idea. The bond was a curse and the only reason they were together. It wasn’t just an emotional tether—it was a physical one, a leash that ensured she couldn’t stray too far without consequences. If she tried to run, the bond would pull her back or worse, hurt her. She knew that, and yet…
No. She had to stay strong. It was the only way to get through this.
“We should… People might come out here.”
He nodded, stepping back just enough for her to find her leggings and put them on. His eyes lingered on her the entire time, and when she finally finished, he let out a sigh and raked a hand through his hair.
“I should go.”
“Yeah. Right. Um. Okay.” She didn’t move, she didn’t want to move.
“I’ll see you back at the house,” he said after a long, tense moment.
Cora nodded. “Right. I’ll, uh, see you there.”
“Right.”
“You’ll be safe walking back. They’re still patrolling the perimeter,” he added, referring to the pack members Grayson had stationed around Bellefleur for added security. “And if anything happens, I’ll feel it through the bond. Just…don’t push it.”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything else. Her feet started moving, carrying her away, and she didn’t dare look back.
Cora bolted from the clearing as if staying another moment might tether her to something she wasn’t ready to face. The woods blurred around her, and her thoughts tangled more with every step. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything except the lingering echo of Grayson’s touch and the heat still simmering under her skin.
She didn’t slow until she reached her apartment, where she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she grumbled aloud, though the empty room offered no answers.
Dropping her bag by the door, she crossed to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, searching for something—anything—that might distract her. A cold bottle of water met her hand, and she twisted off the cap before taking several gulps. It did little to quench the fire still burning in her chest.
She hated this. The bond, the pull, the way her body reacted to him as if it had a mind of its own. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be angry, resentful, ready to claw her way out of whatever magical trap had tied them together. But now… Now, every time he looked at her, touched her, she felt herself unraveling in ways she couldn’t control.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she flinched as the sound jarred against the silence. She ignored it, knowing without looking who it was. Grayson would want to check in to make sure she’d made it back safely. Of course, he would. That was his whole thing—protecting her, even from herself.
She paced the small kitchen since her restless energy made it impossible to sit still. The memory of his lips on hers and his hands on her skin replayed in an endless loop in her mind. The worst part wasn’t the memory itself; it was the way she wanted more. She hated herself for it, but no amount of pacing, water, or angry muttering could drown out the truth.
The bond was doing this. It had to be.
Finally, exhaustion overtook her, and she collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. “Get it together,” she whispered. “You’re stronger than this.”
***
That night, sleep came fitfully, and her dreams were vivid and taunting. She was back in the clearing with the trees swaying in a wind she couldn’t feel. Grayson was there, and his gaze was as intense as ever, but it wasn’t frustration or anger that burned in his eyes—it was something else entirely. Something that made her breath catch and her pulse race.
In the dream, he reached for her, and this time, she didn’t pull away. His hands cupped her face and drew her closer. The bond hummed low, but it wasn’t intrusive. It was a quiet, thrumming presence that felt almost…right.
She leaned into him, gripping his arms as if afraid he might disappear. His lips brushed hers, soft and teasing, before claiming her fully. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like before. It was slow, tender, and devastating. Heat coursed through her, and she felt herself melting into him as every part of her yielded to the connection.
When she woke, the dream lingered, as real as the sheets twisted around her legs. Her chest heaved, and her heart pounded as if she’d run a marathon. She stared at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath, but the frustration bubbling inside her wouldn’t be ignored.
“Damn it,” she complained, throwing off the covers and sitting up.
She hated this. She hated how much she felt. Hated that even in her dreams, she couldn’t escape him. Most of all, she hated that some small, traitorous part of her didn’t want to.
Cora pressed her hands to her temples and commanded, “Get out of my head, Grayson.”
