Jax catches my eye and raises an eyebrow, reading the conflict on my face. I shake my head and force myself to turn away before I do something stupid like relieve him of guard duty just so I can stand watch myself.
The walk back to the tower takes longer than it should, my thoughts circling around the memory of Isla's voice calling my bear beautiful and the way her scent wrapped around me in the confined space of her cottage. Lavender and something wilder underneath, like storm-tossed waves and the promise of deeper water.
My bear insists she's mine with possessive hunger that makes him surge beneath my skin. She's ours to protect, ours to claim.
Not that simple. Nothing about Isla is simple. She's a scientist discovering magic exists, a selkie learning what her heritage means, a woman caught between worlds she never knew existed. Adding the weight of a bear's claim to that burden feels selfish, no matter how much every instinct I possess demands I make her mine.
The tower rises dark against the night sky when I finally reach home. Stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and salt spray, foundations deep enough to withstand anything the ocean throws at them. My family has lived here for centuries, each guardian taking up residence in the upper chamber where we can watch the protected waters and respond to threats before they reach vulnerable shores.
Solitude has never bothered me before. Tonight it feels like a cage.
I'm halfway through stripping off wet clothes when my phone buzzes. Jax:
She insists on returning something. Walking her to the tower now.
Before I can respond, someone knocks on the heavy wooden door. The sound echoes through empty rooms, and my bear surges forward with anticipation rather than aggression this time.
When I wrench the door open, Isla stands on the threshold with the borrowed charts clutched in her hands and rain-dampened hair curling around her face. Behind her, Jax gives me a look that clearly says'I tried to talk her out of it'before melting back into the shadows to resume his patrol.
"I came to return these." Her voice is steady, but her pupils are dilated and her pulse hammers visibly in her throat. "Didn't want to forget in the morning."
We both know that's a lie. The charts could have waited until morning, could have been returned any time in the next week. She came here in the middle of the night for reasons that have nothing to do with diving charts and everything to do with the hunger that has been building between us since the moment we met.
"Come in." I step back to let her pass, hyperaware of how small the tower's entrance suddenly feels with both of us occupying the same space. I close the door behind her and throw the bolt.
She sets the charts down carefully on the table, movements deliberate and controlled. When she straightens, our eyes meet and something ignites in the charged air between us. All therestraint I've been exercising, all the careful distance I've been maintaining, burns away in the heat of her stare.
"You shouldn't be here." My voice is low, dangerous. "Not tonight. Not after everything that happened."
"I know." She takes a step closer instead of retreating. "But I couldn't stay in that cottage alone, listening to footsteps that might or might not be real, wondering if something is going to try breaking through my windows."
"The patrols won't let anything through."
"That's not why I'm here." Another step brings her close enough that I can smell lavender and wild water. "You know it's not."
Yes. I know exactly why she's here, and it has nothing to do with safety or returned charts. The same reason my bear is demanding I close the distance between us and claim what he insists already belongs to us.
"Isla." Her name is a growl and a warning. "If you stay, I'm not going to be gentle."
"Good." The word comes out breathless. "I don't want gentle."
The last thread of my control snaps.
I close the distance between us in two strides, one hand fisting in her hair while the other grips her hip hard enough to leave marks. Her mouth opens under mine with a gasp that turns into a moan when I bite her lower lip. Raw need and days of denied hunger pour into the kiss, demanding and desperate.
She tastes like salt water and something sweeter underneath, addictive in ways that make my bear roar with possessive triumph. I walk her backward until her spine meets the wall, and she arches into me with a sound that goes straight to my cock.
Her hands are under my shirt, nails dragging across my skin with enough force to draw blood. The pain is perfect, grounding me in sensation while everything else spins out of control. I getmy hands under her thighs and lift, pinning her against the wall with my hips while she wraps her legs around my waist. The heat of her core presses against the rigid length straining against my jeans, and the friction makes us both groan.
"Yes." The word is half moan, half command as she rocks against me. "Grayson, please."
Hearing her beg destroys what little restraint I have left. I tear at her clothes with hands that are more like claws than human fingers, fabric giving way with satisfying sounds of surrender. Her shirt comes off in pieces. Her bra follows, and the sight of her bare breasts makes my mouth water. I duck my head to capture one nipple between my teeth, biting just hard enough to make her cry out and arch into me.
She returns the favor, buttons scattering across the floor as she rips my shirt open. When skin finally meets skin, the contact is electric enough to make us both gasp. Her nails rake down my chest, leaving red trails that my bear purrs over with approval.
I work her jeans open with one hand while keeping her pinned with my hips. She wriggles them off along with her underwear, and then there's nothing between us except my jeans and the last fragile barrier of self-control I'm desperately trying to maintain.
"Now." Her voice is rough with need. "I need you inside me now."
