I don't say anything.
"The board will need to convene before any permanent determinations are made," Gavin continues. "Six to eight weeks."
"And in the meantime."
"You remain a resident. Adjusted movement protocol, supervised escort requirement lifted for common areas and outdoor spaces during staffed hours. You successfully shifted into your wolf form and back with no violence. That removes a large question mark from your file. Some additional oversight measures will be added." He looks up. "One reportable incident and the prior board conditions reactivate."
"Transport van."
"Yes."
I look at my hands. The third arc on my wrist is minutes old. I've had the other two for less than a day and now a third mate.
"There's one more matter," Gavin says. "The board recommended a security consultant for risk management during the review period. He arrived yesterday." A pause. "Sven has him in the corridor."
The third arc does something I am not going to react to in this room.
"I'll bring him in," Gavin says.
***
He goes to the door. I look at the wall.
There is a man in the corridor whose hand landed on my shoulder just minutes ago and my body decided something enormous without asking me first.
The third arc is very loud right now.
I hear footsteps. Two sets.
I look up when the door opens.
Sven nods at me and stays in the hall. The other man is looking at me when he comes through the door. Not at the room. Not at Gavin. Not doing any of the things a person does when they walk into an unfamiliar space for the first time.
At me.
Like he already knew where I'd be and walked through that door for exactly one reason.
The bond wakes up the second our eyes meet.
Not subtle. Not polite. A low pull under my ribs, the same place the arcs live in my wrists, like something in my body just leaned forward and saidthere.
He looks bigger up close than he did in the hallway. Taller than Gavin by a few inches, shoulders broad. Dark hair pushed back from his face like someone tried to make him presentable and failed halfway through it. His jaw is rough with the start of a beard and there’s a thin white scar cutting through one eyebrow.
My brain notices details the way it does when it’s deciding if someone is a threat.
My body notices other things.
The steadiness in the way he moves. The way his shoulders stay loose even in a room that belongs to someone else. The way his attention keeps slipping back to me like gravity is stronger in my direction.
Strong, my instincts say immediately.
Capable.
Too controlled.
The bond tightens.
Something warm moves low in my stomach, that same quiet recognition that hit me in the hallway earlier, the one that feels like need. Like my body has already filed him somewhere important and is just waiting for my brain to catch up.
