Grayson scrubbed a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. His skin was still flushed, and the remnants of the dream clung to him like a second skin. He didn’t need this—not now, not when his focus should be on keeping her safe. Not when she was just a few feet away, sleeping soundly and completely unaware of the effect she had on him.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch. Sleeping wasn’t happening, not after that. He needed a distraction, something to burn off the restless energy jittering through his limbs.
Without a sound, he rose and grabbed his boots from beside the door. The night stretched long and silent as he stepped outside. The cool night air did little to calm the heat simmering beneath his skin, but at least out here, he could channel it into something useful.
Grayson moved along the property's perimeter, keeping an eye on every shadow and corner. The defenses he’d already set up around the bakery and Cora’s apartment were solid, butit wasn’t enough. Not anymore. If Theodore and his people were truly closing in, she needed more than just a watchful eye. She needed layers of protection, barriers that would buy him time if someone dared to get too close.
He started by reinforcing the wards that now surrounded the property, thanks to Elena’s talismans. They weren’t his craft—shifters didn’t use magic—but Elena had assured him they’d hold if placed and activated properly. He crouched by the base of a tree and pulled out one of the small, rune-etched stones she’d handed over earlier.
“The runes do the work,” Elena had explained. “Just plant them deep enough and speak the binding words. Even you can’t mess it up.”
Grayson pushed the talisman into the soil, muttering the unfamiliar Latin phrase she’d made him repeat until it stuck. A faint tug of energy rolled beneath his palm, confirming that the ward had taken root. He brushed the dirt from his hands and moved to the next tree.
By the time he finished double-checking the final ward was still in place, the sky had deepened into an inky black. He straightened and scanned the area again. Everything looked as it should, but the nagging feeling that something was off wouldn’t leave him.
He turned toward the alley beside the bakery, the one where someone had been stalking around the other night. The quiet here felt too heavy. His senses stretched, searching for any hint of movement or sound. A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention, and he turned sharply, his body coiled and ready.
Nothing.
Grayson got closer to the spot where he thought he’d seen something. The shadows were deep here, but they didn’t feel empty. His wolf stirred, uneasy but not panicked. He circled the area, but after several minutes of searching, he found nothing out of place.
Still, the feeling lingered.
He made his way back to the apartment. It could have been nothing—a stray cat, a trick of his imagination—but he couldn’t afford to take chances. Not with Cora’s safety on the line.
When he stepped inside, the apartment was as he’d left it. Quiet. Still. He locked the door behind him, leaned against it, and let out a slow breath. His gaze drifted toward the closed door of Cora’s room. He could picture her in there, tangled in her blankets, wearing nothing but those skimpy pajamas she wore every night. The thought sent another jolt of longing through him, and he clenched his fists against it.
This was why he couldn’t afford to let the bond dictate his actions. She was too important—her safety, her life—too valuable to risk for his own selfish feelings. He’d protect her. He’d always protect her. But that was all he could allow himself to do.
Grayson dropped onto the couch again, and the tension in his chest refused to ease. Outside, the faint rustle of leaves reached his ears, a quiet reminder that the world never truly rested. Neither could he. Not until Theodore and his men were no longer a threat. Not until Cora could live her life without looking over her shoulder.
And certainly not until he figured out how to quiet the fire she’d lit inside him.
Chapter 15 - Cora
Cora caught the smell of coffee as soon as she walked out of her bedroom. It wasn’t the comforting, “wake up to a perfect morning” aroma—it was burnt, bitter, and distinctly overdone. She paused at the edge of the hallway, crossing her arms as her gaze landed on Grayson.
He stood in the kitchen, his shoulders tense, staring down at the coffee maker as though sheer willpower could fix whatever disaster he’d created. His shirt clung to him in places, and his hair was mussed enough to make her suspect he hadn’t been to bed at all.
“You know, coffee doesn’t usually require brute force,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
Grayson glanced up, startled, but quickly masked it. “You’re one to talk. Last time you tried this, the microwave almost caught fire.”
She ignored the jab, stepping closer. “Late night?”
“Something like that.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and the shadows under his eyes made him look even more exhausted than usual. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Cora gave him a once-over, noting the tight set of his jaw and the faint lines that deepened when he frowned. “You look like you’ve been wrestling bears.”
“Close enough.”
She rolled her eyes and moved past him toward the stove. “You’re hopeless.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning as she began pulling ingredients from the fridge.
“Making breakfast,” she replied, cracking eggs into a bowl. “You need it more than I do. Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
