I close my eyes and press my ear to her door, like Orion did. I listen for her inhales and exhales.
I should go. I should leave, let her sleep.
Except…
There's a hitch in her breath. A frustrated sigh, and the sheets rustle, like she's turning over.
I shouldn't do it.
I tell myself this, even as I turn the knob.
She'll probably kick me in the balls for it.
I step into the room.
She might actually stab me.
I close the door behind me.
"Grayson?" she calls out, annoyed.
And I smile.
Chapter 34: Mona
While I normally would say that a man of Grayson's size is incapable of being sneaky, he is surprisingly light on his feet. But there's no mistaking his shadow as it fills my doorway.
I was awake, unable to sleep. Irritated and angry. I might have dozed off, but a door shutting down the hall woke me.
And now, Grayson's watching me in the dark, waiting for…
"Grayson?"
His eyes glow green as he stands there, filling the frame. He can see me just like I can see him in the near darkness. His cinnamon scent takes on a burnt edge, like a blazing campfire. The flames lick up my skin, the heat of him pulsing through me. Like a switch, he allows his alpha dominance to seep through his pores. It crawls over to me, and I can almost feel it scorching my skin.
I should tell him to leave, but I can't. Idon't. My thoughts race between all the good and the bad. Him looking just like Silas, then the way he made me feel when he called me his mate. When he accused me of being spelled by the witches—which, technically, turned out to be true. Taking care of me, and everyone else, incurring my wrath just to keep me safe. And last night. The things he did to my body, the way he took control and only gave. He didn't ask for a single thing.
That part of him—the giver, the protector—keeps snagging on my anger. Melting it down into something else.
Grayson is exactly what he appears to be, and that's the problem. There's no mystery to unravel, no misunderstanding. I know precisely what he wants as he stands there, silently waiting for an invitation. That a man like him even waits for permission…
He takes a step closer, his features emerging from the shadows. Nothing about Grayson is conventionally attractive. His brow is too heavy, the breadth of his shoulders is too vast. There's a terrifying, primal energy he carries around like a cloak, but it's a part of him.
I should be intimidated, at least, by a man built for violence, but I find myself mesmerized. My pulse quickens with each step he takes.
"You should be sleeping," he says.
I swallow. "So should you."
We stare at each other for a moment. He tied his hair all the way back. I don't know what possesses me, but I throw the covers off and climb out of bed.
He towers over me. But when I reach up, he leans down and meets me partway. My fingers trace from his temple to the back of his head, and I swear he shivers. He leans further down, and I grab the tail of the leather strap and tug. His hair spills around his ears.
"Better to guide me with?" he muses. And it takes me a second. But then I remember what they did to me last night. How I clutched Orion's head between my legs and moved him where I wanted.
Slick, Grayson called it. It floods out of me, and I can both see and hear his reaction. He takes a deep inhale and grunts. Without taking his eyes off me, he kicks off one shoe, then the other. The sound of them hitting the ground feels like a nail in my coffin.
Like this is the end of the line. There's absolutely no going back after tonight.
