She pats the space beside her. “Seriously, Kier. Sleep. We can take watches, but you’re no good to either of us if you collapse from exhaustion.”
She’s throwing my words back at me, but she’s right, of course. I’ve been running on fumes, catching minutes of rest here and there but never truly sleeping. Until the silver is gone, its effects will linger—weakness, slowed healing, dulled senses.
But it’s not just the silver making me hesitate. It’s been years since I’ve slept beside another person. Years since I’ve had to worry about morning arousal or the unconscious movements that come with sharing a bed. And this isn’t just anyone—this isLithia. My mate. The woman whose scent has been driving me half-mad with want despite our circumstances.
The thought of lying beside her, breathing in her scent with every inhalation, feeling the warmth of her body just inches away, listening to the soft sounds she makes in sleep—it’s both torture and temptation. What if I reach for her in my dreams? What if she wakes to find me curled around her like the possessive bastard my wolf wants me to be?
But the exhaustion weighs heavier than my concerns, and the practical part of me knows she’s right. We both need rest.
After a moment’s hesitation, I settle beside her on the narrow mattress, careful to leave space between us. The bed creaks under our combined weight, but holds. “Wake me in four hours,” I say. “I’ll take second watch.”
“Deal.”
I close my eyes, expecting sleep to evade me as it usually does. But whether from exhaustion or the strange comfort of having her nearby, darkness claims me almost immediately.
I dream of running through endless forests, silver arrows raining from the sky, a silver-eyed wolf always just ahead of me. When I jerk awake, heart pounding, the cabin is dark and empty except for the dying embers in the fireplace.
Lithia!
I hear her moving in the bathroom, and relax. She let me sleep longer than we agreed.
I rise quietly and walk to the window. Outside, night has fallen completely, the forest a tapestry of silver-blue shadows in the moonlight. I slip outside and make my way around the cabin, checking our perimeter warnings—all undisturbed—then return to add wood to the fire.
Lithia’s passed out on the bed, the blanket curled around her.
As the flames grow, casting warm light across the small space, I study her again. In sleep, the fierce Beta softens. She looks younger, less burdened by responsibility and pain.
My wolf stirs, pressing against my consciousness with uncharacteristic insistence.
I push back against the instinct.Not now. Not yet. She needs to heal. We need to get her home.
But my wolf is persistent.Ours. Claim. Protect.
I shake my head, moving away from the bed to clear my thoughts. Whatever this pull between us—and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it—now is not the time to explore it. We’re fugitives, injured, hunted. Romance is the last thing either of us needs.
A soft sound from the bed draws my attention. Lithia’s face has tensed, her breathing quickening. A nightmare, by the looks of it.
I debate whether to wake her, then decide against it. Better she gets what rest she can, even if troubled. Instead, I move closer, gently placing a hand on her arm in silent reassurance.
She settles almost immediately, her features smoothing out. I withdraw my hand, surprised by the effect.
Outside, an owl calls, breaking the silence of the night. I move to the window, peering through a small gap in the boards. The forest is still, peaceful under the moon’s glow. No sign of pursuit, no hint of danger.
But I know better than to trust the calm. Zella will be hunting us, and she’ll have resources at her disposal that we can only guess at. Our reprieve is temporary, our safety an illusion.
“Kier?” Lithia’s voice is soft with sleep. “Everything okay?”
“All quiet,” I reply, turning back to her. “You should still be resting.”
“I’ve slept enough.” She sits up carefully, testing her injured side.
“You’ve needed it.”
“So do you.” She studies me in the firelight. “You look better, though. Less like death warmed over.”
I snort. “Such flattery.”
A small smile touches her lips. “I’m known for my charm.”
