I watched him haul lumber from the truck bed like it weighed nothing, his flannel straining across his broad shoulders, and felt a purr building in my chest. There was something deeply satisfying about watching an Alpha in full providing mode—even if I'd never admit it out loud.
Gumbo had stopped pacing to watch Harper work, his eyes tracking every movement with suspicious interest. When Harper passed too close to the dock's edge, Gumbo let out a low rumble that was definitely a warning.
"Easy." Harper said, not pausing in his work, not showing an ounce of fear. "I'm here to help her. Same as you." He told the gator, his voice low and steady.
Gumbo's tail swished once—acknowledgment, maybe—and he went back to his restless pacing.
Remy arrived at ten fifteen, his motorcycle replaced by a borrowed truck that looked older than I was. He hopped out with a grin that didn't quite hide the worry in his amber eyes, immediately starting to unload coolers and bags from the back.
"Chere, I come bearing gifts." Remy announced, hauling a massive cooler onto the porch with a dramatic flourish, his amber eyes bright despite the worry lines around them. "Enough food for a week, three bottles of good wine, candles, cards, and—" He produced a battered guitar case from behind the seat with a magician's flair. "Entertainment for when the power goes out." He winked, setting the case down with exaggerated care.
"You think we're going to be stuck here for a week?" I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the porch railing as I watched him unload, though I was already eyeing the cooler with interest.
"I think we're going to be stuck here until the roads drain, and I refuse to be stuck anywhere without good food and good company." Remy crossed the porch in two long strides, pulling me into a hug and pressing his nose to my hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell like sawdust and coffee and home." He murmured against my temple, his arms tightening around me like he never wanted to let go.
"Harper's already boarding up the windows." I said into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of citrus and spice, letting myself sink into his warmth for just a moment.
"Course he is." Remy pulled back, his grin turning fond. "Man's been in providing mode since the first weather alert. Probably built six emergency shelters on the way here." He joked, though there was genuine affection underneath the teasing.
A crash from the side of the cabin made us both turn. Harper had dropped a board—or rather, thrown it down in frustration, if the set of his shoulders was any indication.
"Problem?" I called out, wiping my hands on my jeans as I moved toward him, noting the rigid set of his shoulders.
"Rot." Harper kicked at a section of siding I hadn't noticed was damaged, his jaw tight with frustration. "This whole section needs replacing. Should have caught it sooner." He ran a hand through his dark hair, the muscle in his forearm flexing as frustration radiated from every line of his body.
"It's fine. We'll board over it." I touched his arm, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Hey. Look at me." I waited until his dark eyes met mine. "It's okay. We don't have to be perfect. We just have to be prepared." I told him firmly.
Harper stared at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine, then nodded once, some of the tension easing from his broad shoulders. "I'll reinforce it. Won't hold forever, but it'll hold through the storm." He said, already turning back to his work, though his calloused hand lingered on mine for just a second longer than necessary.
Remy appeared beside us with three bottles of water, pressing one into Harper's hand without comment. "Hydrate, mon ami. Can't have you passing out before the fun starts." He said lightly, though his eyes were serious.
Harper took the water with a grunt that might have been thanks, and I watched something pass between them—an acknowledgment, maybe. A truce. They were learning to existin the same space without bristling, and the progress made something warm bloom in my chest.
Silas appeared at noon, though "appeared" was generous. One moment I was helping Remy organize supplies in the kitchen, and the next he was simply there, standing in the doorway like he'd materialized from smoke.
"Fence is secure." Silas said without preamble, his pale eyes sweeping the cabin's interior with tactical precision. "Tied down your pirogue. Checked the dock moorings." He paused, his gaze landing on me with that unnerving intensity that always made me feel like he could see straight through to my bones. "Your generator's low on fuel." He added, something almost accusatory in his flat tone.
"Good thing Harper brought extra." I crossed the kitchen to greet him properly, rising on my toes to press a kiss to his stubbled jaw. "Thank you for checking everything." I said softly, watching some of the tension ease from his sharp features.
Silas nodded once, his hand finding my hip and squeezing briefly before he stepped past me toward the window. "Storm's moving faster than the reports say. Pressure's dropping." He observed, his pale eyes fixed on the sky that was starting to turn an ominous gray at the edges, his scarred fingers resting against the window frame.
"You can feel it?" Remy asked, looking up from the canned goods he was organizing, genuine curiosity coloring his voice as he studied Silas.
"Animals can." Silas replied, his voice low and certain as he glanced toward the dock where Gumbo was still pacing. "He knows. Been restless all morning, I'd guess." He looked at me for confirmation, those pale gray eyes missing nothing.
"Since dawn." I nodded, my arms crossing over my chest as I watched Gumbo's agitated movements with growing concern."He usually settles by now, even before a storm. This one's making him nervous." I admitted, chewing my bottom lip.
"Should make us all nervous." Silas said quietly, then moved toward the door. "I'll help Harper with the boards." He paused at the threshold, looking back at me with something softer than his usual intensity. "Stay inside when the wind picks up." He instructed, and was gone before I could argue.
The afternoon passed in a blur of activity. Harper and Silas worked in near-silence on the exterior—boarding windows, reinforcing weak points, securing anything that could become a projectile in high winds. Remy and I focused on the interior—filling bathtubs and containers with water, organizing supplies, making sure we had everything we'd need if we lost power for an extended period.
By four o'clock, the sky had turned an ugly greenish-gray, and the wind was starting to pick up in earnest. I stood on the porch watching the trees sway, feeling the pressure drop in my sinuses, when Harper appeared beside me.
"We should get inside." Harper appeared beside me, his dark hair whipping in the wind, his voice nearly lost in the rising gale.
"In a minute." I kept my eyes on the bayou, watching the water churn with whitecaps that formed on the usually glass-still surface. "Where's Gumbo?" I asked suddenly, my heart lurching as I realized I hadn't seen him in over an hour.
As if summoned, a massive shape emerged from the water near the dock. Gumbo hauled himself onto the bank with unusual urgency, his movements quick and purposeful as he headed not toward his usual spots, but toward the cabin.
