“Can you stay with me? In the nesting room?”
I look at his hands. They stay relaxed on the counter. He doesn’t have the aggressiveness that makes Sawyer feel like a threat. I trust the man who checks my pulse.
“You can say no,” I add quickly. I twist the belt of my robe. “I just... I can’t shake the feeling of that shadow. staring at me I need to know you are right there. Not in another room.”
Urie hesitates for a second. He looks toward the foyer, then back at me. He adjusts his glasses. “Our rules say we should stay professional. But a stress spike during sleep can lead to a crisis. I want to keep a close eye on your vitals tonight.” He stands up and gestures toward the hallway. “I won’t take the bed. I can lie on the floor of the nesting room. I’ll stay close enough, but I’ll give you your space.”
I feel a bit of the tension leave my chest. “Thank you, Urie. Really.”
I lead him back to my nest and he closes the doors behind us. I go to the wall of blankets and pull down a few for him to use as a bed, along with some pillows.
Urie takes the blanket and pillow from me. His fingers brush mine. His skin feels warm. He doesn’t pull away quickly. He offers a small, reassuring smile.“Go back to your nest, Zora. Try to get some sleep. I’ll stay right here.”
I crawl back onto the bed and pull the blanket up to my chin. The fairy lights still flicker. They make the room feel safe. I watch Urie. He lays the blanket out on the stone floor near the foot of the platform. He takes off his white doctor’s coat and folds it neatly. He stays in his charcoal uniform. He lies down, using the pillows I gave him.
I lie here and stare at the ceiling. listening to the building settle. The wind on the glass. The fear of the note remains, but the presence of the man on the floor keeps it from consuming me. I feel like a fraud. I sell a life of curated safety to five hundred thousand people. I tell them how to secure their homes. Yet, I can’t even sleep without a stranger on my floor. I drift into a light, fitful sleep. I don’t dream of the fire this time. The boys stand in a line, their faces blurry as I try to make them out.
Morning light eventually clears the neighboring high-rises. It casts long, pale lines across the floor. I blink, my eyes feeling heavy and gritty. There's a strange weight against my side. A steady heat radiates through my silk robe.
I shift my head. My heart skips a beat. I lie on the cold stone floor. I find myself curled up against Urie’s chest. My head rests in the crook of his shoulder. One of my hands clutches the fabric of his charcoal shirt.
Urie stays asleep. His breathing remains deep and slow. One of his arms lies draped over my waist, holding me close. A soft hint of pine and mint comes off him. He smells so good.
Confusion hits me. I have no memory of getting out of bed. I don’t remember walking across the room in the dark or lying next to him on the floor. I stay still. I don’t want to wake him and have to explain why I crawled toward him in my sleep. My body seems to have made a choice my mind can’t track.
I look at his face. Without the glasses, he looks younger. The ridges of his blonde hair look messy. He looks like a person, not just a doctor. There's a strange pull toward him. It scares me more than the shadow.
The sun grows brighter, turning the room a soft, hazy gold. I know I should move and get back onto the bed before he wakes up; to maintain the professional distance he mentioned. But my body refuses to cooperate. I feel safe here. The noise in my head has stopped.
Here, on the floor with a man I barely know, I feel like I can breathe.
Why do I feel like I'mreactingto him like I would an Alpha?Something about him calls to me on a deeper level, and I have no idea why.
Isitintheleather chair of my private office, the only light coming from three monitors on my desk. I rub my face, feeling the rough stubble on my jaw. Sleep stayed out of reach last night.
I grab my mouse to bring up the recorded footage from this morning for Unit 1301. My chest tightens as the playback from the nesting room begins. The cameras capture every detail of the space. The amber fairy lights Zora hung earlier cast a soft glow over the cream-colored velvet. The room looks like a sanctuary on the screen, but I know someone watched her sleep.
The footage shows Micah. He lies on the stone floor at the foot of the bed. He folded his white medical coat and used it as a secondary cushion beneath the pillow.
I check the timestamp in the display's corner. Three-fourteen in the morning. Zora stirs beneath the weighted blanket. I watch her face in the close-up feed. Her brow furrows, and she whispers to someone in a dream. Her heart rate, displayed in the biometric log on my third monitor, climbs. It hits ninety, then ninety-five. The pulse on the screen mirrors the frantic thudding in my chest.
I lean closer to the monitor. I want to reach through the screen and smooth the lines on her forehead. I feel the distance between us.
Zora sits up suddenly. She doesn't scream this time and stares at the door. She so small in the center of that massive bed. Her gaze lands on the floor and Micah.
She slides out of the bed, her feet hitting the stone with a quiet thud. She reaches the edge of Micah’s blanket and sinks onto the hard floor beside him, curling into his side and tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder.
My heart thuds against my ribs. I watch Micah stir. He doesn't wake up fully, but his Alpha instincts react to her proximity even through the suppressants. He shifts his weight and drapes a heavy arm over her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. The biometric graph shows her heart rate relaxes instantly. It drops back into the sixties.
My gut twists. I love Micah. I would give my life to keep him standing. We survived the foster system together and remained a family. Seeing him provide her comfort brings a sense of relief to the part of me that manages the pack's survival. But another part of me aches with a deep longing.
I want to be the one she crawls toward in the dark. I want her to seek my warmth with that same blind trust. I handle the legal shields and the sponsorship deals that keep her platform growing. I provide her with housing, but I remain a stranger in the lobby. To Zora, I exist as Reid Harris, the polite Beta manager who keeps a professional distance. I represent the rules and the paperwork. I'm the man she thanks with a polite smile before she heads to the elevator.
They share a single blanket on the hard stone. It looks uncomfortable and cramped, yet they both look more relaxed than they ever do during the day. Zora’s breathing settles into a deep, rhythmic pace.
I save the footage to a secure drive. I don't want the others to see this yet.
Why do I feel like an outsider when this was my design?
