And that was the part that frightened her most.
Her mind never stopped. It was her greatest strength and her most persistent curse—that constant whirring analysis that catalogued and processed and evaluated every piece of data she encountered. Even in sleep, her brain ran background processes, sorting through problems, searching for solutions. She’d learnedto live with the noise, to channel it into work, to let it drown out the loneliness that lurked beneath the surface.
But when Adrian had kissed her, the noise had stopped.
No analysis. No cataloguing. No careful evaluation of risks and benefits and probable outcomes. Just sensation—his hands spanning her waist, his mouth claiming hers, his growl vibrating through her chest like a tuning fork striking some frequency she hadn’t known she could feel.
For the first time in her adult life, she had been completely, terrifyingly present in a single moment.
Her lips still tingled from the kiss, a phantom sensation that seemed to echo through her entire body. She pressed her fingers to them, trying to analyze the sensation, to categorize it, to file it away under “Inexplicable Biological Reactions” and move on.
It didn’t work.
Her brain was a mess of conflicting data. A kiss. A kiss with a man whose proximity made her heart race and her thoughts scatter like frightened birds. And then she’d freaked out, babbling on about mistakes and apologizing.
But god, she couldn’t regret it. Not when she could still taste him on her lips. Not when her body was still humming with the memory of being pressed against that hard chest, feeling his hands flex possessively at her waist, hearing that rumbling growl that had sent electricity straight down her spine.
Focus.The analytical part of her brain finally managed to sputter back to life.I have work to do tomorrow. Important work. I can’t afford to spend the night replaying a kiss like some lovestruck teenager.
But she was going to anyway. She already knew it.
She forced herself to stand, to change into the oversized t-shirt she slept in and go through the motions of her nighttime routine. Her hands shook slightly as she brushed her teeth. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looked different somehow—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips still slightly swollen.
She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly kissed.
You’re in over your head,her reflection seemed to say.He’s a werewolf Alpha with trust issues and a pack full of people who barely tolerate your presence. This can’t end well.
“Shut up,” she muttered to the mirror. “I know the risks.”
But knowing the risks had never stopped her from wanting things before. And she wanted Adrian Moonstone with an intensity that scared her.
Sleep came slowly, fitfully, punctuated by dreams of golden eyes and possessive hands and a growl that said mine.
Morning brought clarity. Sort of.
She woke to pale sunlight filtering through the balcony doors, her body stiff from tension and her mind already spinning with the implications of last night. She lay in bed for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, running through scenarios.
Scenario A. Pretend it didn’t happen, maintain a professional distance, finish the job, and leave.
That option made her chest ache in a way that felt disproportionate to the kiss. One kiss. It had been one kiss. She’d kissed other people before—not many, admittedly, but enough to know the mechanics. None of those kisses had feltlike Adrian’s. None of them had silenced her brain. None of them had left her trembling against a door, questioning every assumption she’d ever made about herself.
Scenario B. Acknowledge the attraction, explore it, and see where it leads.
This was the terrifying option. The option that meant vulnerability, exposure, the possibility of rejection or—worse—acceptance followed eventually by abandonment. She knew that pattern intimately. Foster homes that felt like family until they weren’t. Friends who drifted away. Connections that dissolved the moment she stopped being useful.
People left. That was the one constant she’d learned to count on.
Scenario C. Stop overthinking and go do your job.
That, at least, was actionable.
She threw off the covers and got dressed with more care than usual—a cropped black sweater, dark jeans that actually fit properly, and her pink hair secured in a neat ponytail—deliberately not thinking about why she cared.
Work. She was good at work. Work didn’t make her feel like her heart was trying to escape through her throat.
The pack house was quieter than she’d expected when she emerged from her room. Most of the wolves were apparently occupied elsewhere. She caught glimpses of a few pack members in the corridors and actually received a few nods of acknowledgment.
She didn’t see Adrian.
