A soft knock came at his door. Grayson turned, his hand already on the knob before he’d consciously decided to move. He opened it to find Ryan standing in the hallway, his hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. He wore sweatpants now and an oversized T-shirt that hung off one shoulder.
“Sorry,” Ryan said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I know you said to sleep, but I can’t. My brain won't shut off. I keep hearing sounds and I don't know if they’re normal house sounds or something else and I’m probably being ridiculous but—”
“You’re not being ridiculous.” Grayson stepped back from the doorway, and Ryan followed him inside without being asked. The door clicked shut again, softer this time, and Ryan stood in the middle of the room looking lost. His arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into his own sides through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said again. His voice came out smaller than before. “I know I’m being needy and pathetic. You can tell me to leave. I won't be offended. Well, I’ll be a little offended, but I’ll get over it.”
“You’re not being pathetic.” Grayson moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, leaving space. “Come here.”
Ryan hesitated, his eyes darting between Grayson and the door like he was calculating whether staying was worth the embarrassment. Then he crossed the room in quick steps and sat down beside Grayson, leaving barely an inch between them. His body radiated heat and fear in equal measure.
“I keep thinking about what they said,” Ryan admitted. His hands twisted together in his lap. “About knowing where I work. What if they hurt Dr. Sullivan? Or Janet? What if they go after the dogs again? Those animals have been through enough. They don't deserve—”
“Hey.” Grayson turned to face him. Ryan’s profile was sharp in the dim light from the bedside lamp, all angles and worry. “The clinic is being watched. No one is getting near those dogs or anyone who works there. I promise you that.”
“You can’t promise that.” Ryan’s voice cracked. He pressed his palms to his eyes, rubbing hard enough that it had to hurt. “You’re one person. Well, four people if you count your roommates. But these are organized criminals. They have resources and money, and they don't care who gets hurt.”
Grayson wanted to tell him the truth. That he wasn't just one person, that he was a lion shifter with a full pride at his disposal, that hyenas were scavengers who wouldn’t stand a chance against what was coming for them. But the words stayed locked in his throat. Ryan wasn't ready for that truth. Might never be ready.
“Trust me,” Grayson said instead. He reached out and pulled Ryan’s hands away from his face. Ryan’s skin was cold, his fingers trembling slightly. “I know what I’m doing. This isn't my first time dealing with dangerous people.”
“That’s supposed to be reassuring?” Ryan looked down at their joined hands. His thumb brushed across Grayson’s knuckles, the touch light and probably unconscious. “Because it kind of makes me want to ask a lot of questions about your past.”
“Ask tomorrow.” Grayson squeezed his hands gently. “Tonight you need to rest.”
“I tried. I got in bed and closed my eyes and my brain just started listing every horrible thing that could happen.” Ryan’s laugh came out wrong, too high and brittle. “It’s like a greatest hits compilation of anxiety. Track one: someone breaks into the clinic and steals the dogs. Track two: they come to the house and murder everyone. Track three: I lose my job because I’m too scared to function. It’s a real banger of an album.”
The joke fell flat, but Grayson recognized it for what it was. Ryan trying to cope with fear by making light of it, trying to turn terror into something manageable through humor. It wasn't working. His pulse was still racing, his breathing still too shallow.
“You need to sleep,” Grayson said. He stood up, pulling Ryan with him. “Come on.”
“I’m in your room.” Ryan’s eyes went wide. “I can’t sleep in your bed. That’s weird. We barely know each other. I mean we had coffee and you kissed me, which was amazing by the way, but that doesn’t mean I should just invade your personal space like some clingy—”
“Ryan.” Grayson turned him around and gave him a gentle push toward the bed. “Get in.”
“But where are you going to sleep?” Ryan looked back at him, confusion written across his features. “This is your room. Your bed. I can’t just take it.”
“I’ll be fine.” Grayson pulled back the covers. The sheets were clean, changed just this morning. “I need to coordinate with the others anyway. Make sure everything is set for tomorrow.”
Ryan stood there for a long moment, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. Then he climbed into the bed, moving slowly like he expected Grayson to change his mind and kick him out. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and looked small against the pillows, his hair spreading out in a messy halo around his head.
“This is really nice of you,” Ryan said. His eyes were already starting to close, exhaustion winning over fear. “I know I keep saying that. But I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
“Yes, I did.” Grayson moved to the door. His hand rested on the light switch. “Try to sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
“Grayson?” Ryan’s voice was soft, already thick with approaching sleep. “What if they come tonight? What if they figure out I’m here?”
“They won't.” Grayson killed the light, leaving only the glow from the hallway. “And if they did, they wouldn’t make it past the driveway. You’re safe. I promise.”
Ryan didn’t respond. His breathing had already started to even out, his body finally surrendering to the exhaustion that had been pulling at him all evening. Grayson stood in the doorway watching him for longer than necessary, tracking the rise and fall of the covers, the way Ryan’s fingers curled into the pillow.
His mate was in his bed. Scared and vulnerable and trusting Grayson to keep him safe. The lion prowled under his skin, satisfied with this development, even as it remained agitated by the threat. Ryan belonged here. In this house, in this bed, under Grayson’s protection. Everything else would work itself out.
Grayson pulled the door mostly closed and headed downstairs. The others were still in the living room, their voices low but audible. They stopped talking when he appeared, three sets of eyes turning to assess him.
“He asleep?” Reese asked.
“Yeah.” Grayson moved to stand near the window, looking out at the dark yard. “What’s the status on the clinic?”
