“What did Liz tell you while you were in the woods?”
I scoff. “Breaking into bedrooms wasn’t enough for you? Now you’re stalking my movements and interrogating my private conversations?”
His shoulders vibrate, and I swear I hear a rumble come from him. “I’m trying to be nice.”
I arch a brow. “Is that how your mother taught you? That it’s okay to just barge into people’s lives, growl atthem, and expect them to be grateful? Maybe I should have a chat with her.”
The shadows change his face in an instant, dimming something behind his eyes. He stands abruptly, turning away from me, and for a moment I think I’ve finally pushed him too far. But then he pivots back, gaze locked on mine.
“My mother is dead.”
Shifter shits.
Damn it. That really is catchy.
But more than that, a pang cuts through my chest because I know what that loss feels like.
“I didn’t know. I’m sor?—”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” he snaps, tone sharp enough to slice through the space between us. “I just need you to listen.”
I straighten on the bench, forcing myself not to be annoyed with his grumpy demeanor. I don’t know how long ago his mother died, but I do know how grief likes to leave its mark. Even I still have my own unyielding days when nothing in the world feels worth softening for.
“What is it you want to tell me?” I keep my voice casual, like we’re discussing weather patterns instead of whatever danger has him looking like he’s about to break the fountain in half. It works—at least enough for him to settle back onto the bench.
This time, though, he sits closer. Not so close that we touch, but enough that the faint brush of his presence pushes against mine. And then his scent hits me—pine and something darker, like wood smoke curling off adying fire. It settles low in my lungs, warm and heady, as if it’s branding itself there. My pulse skips, betraying me.
His attention stays fixed on the fountain, but the roughness in his voice is weighted, each word deliberate. “You’re in more danger than you realize.”
I bite back a groan.Really?Is this going to be the greatest hits album everyone seems determined to play for me now? Ever since I woke up in a strange bed wearing clothes that weren’t my own, danger has apparently been my new life mantra.
Cade keeps going, his tone sharpened by something between warning and frustration. “I’m not talking about stray vampires or pissed-off witches, Rowan. I’m talking about those with resources, influence, and the kind of patience that means they’ll wait until you’re at your most vulnerable to strike. It takes only one wrong person to find you alone, or under protected, and it’s over.”
I tilt my head, my voice flat. “I’ve gathered that, which is why I’m still here. I don’t know why you’re telling me what Iris and Liz have already pointed out.”
Apparently, my “thanks for the memo” tone doesn’t land the way I intend.
“Because it’s my job to keep you safe,” he snarls and his jaw flexes. “They can talk all they want, but it’s not on them if you die. It’s me who will pay the consequences.”
A prickle runs down my spine at the sheer conviction he exudes, but I mask it with sarcasm. Especially since the attraction I’ve been feeling toward him seems to be very one-sided. At least based on how easily I piss him off.
“So, being my mate means you’re basically my supernatural bodyguard, yeah?”
That earns me a look. Bright golden eyes catch the late afternoon light, glinting like molten amber. “Call it whatever you need to in order to feel better.”
“I’d rather know the truth.” I meet his stare, willing him to read the sincerity behind my words, and instantly regret it when his gaze darkens, pulling me in like a riptide.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for that,” he says, leaning in just enough to steal the air between us. “At least not when it comes to me.”
Blinking feels impossible. Breathing feels optional. For one dangerous second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if I didn’t resist this throbbing inside me, if I leaned forward instead of holding my ground. Some part of me, the part that’s been quietly starving for someone to catch me when I fall ever since Mom died, is whispering,take me.
But my stubborn, human-trained logic finally wrestles control back. “Right. Well, what truths do you think I’m ready for then?” The words come out softer and breathier than I’d like. Less challenge, more confession.
“Rowan.” My name rolls off his tongue like a vow. His jaw works, as if he’s thoroughly considering each word before letting them loose. “Keeping you safe is only part of my role as your mate, but it’s the most important piece. No matter what I think or feel, your life comes before everything else.”
This is starting to give me swoony, romance-novelvibes, and I’m almost willing to sink into them. Almost. But then his next words drop like a punch between us.
“Even if that means pissing you off.” His pitch dips lower, dark and velvet-edged, moving through me until heat pools once more low in my traitorous stomach. “I need you alive, whether you hate me or not.”
