“Marcus and Delia are in position.” Malik had his laptop open again, fingers moving across the keys. “They've got eyes on all entrances. No movement so far.”
“Good.” Grayson crossed his arms. The window reflected his image back at him, and for a moment, he saw the lion looking out through his eyes. He blinked, and the impression faded. “I want rotating shifts through the night. Two people minimum at all times. If anything moves near that building, I want to know about it immediately.”
“Already arranged.” Reese stretched his legs out in front of him. The couch creaked under his weight. “We've got people scheduled through the morning. What about the vet tech's apartment?”
“Same deal. I want eyes on it.” Grayson turned away from the window. “The hyenas know where he works. They might know where he lives. I’m not taking chances.”
“You think they’ll move that fast?” Colton had appeared from the kitchen with a beer. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert. “Usually these packs take time to plan. They’re scavengers. They like easy targets.”
“Ryan is an easy target.” The words tasted wrong in Grayson’s mouth. “Human. No protection. No idea what he's dealing with. They’ll see him as the path of least resistance.”
“Until they find out he's yours.” Malik looked up from his laptop. “Then he becomes the hardest target they could have chosen.”
Grayson didn’t respond. The truth of it sat heavy in the room. Every shifter downstairs knew what Ryan was to him, could probably smell it on Grayson’s skin. The mate bond wasn't complete yet, wouldn’t be until Ryan knew the truth and accepted what Grayson was, but the connection was already forming. Already making Grayson’s lion territorial and violent at the thought of anyone threatening what belonged to him.
“We need to find the pack.” Grayson moved away from the window. “I want to know where they’re based, how many of them there are, who's calling the shots. We can’t just sit here waiting for them to make a move.”
Not when his mate’s life was at stake.
Chapter Six
Tired, Grayson crawled into bed. He’d planned to stay downstairs, keep watch with the others, and maintain the distance necessary to keep Ryan safe from truths he wasn't ready to handle yet. But his feet carried him back up the stairs, drawn by something more fundamental than logic.
The door to his room stood partially open, exactly as he’d left it. Grayson pushed it wider, letting light from the hallway spill across the floor. Ryan was still in bed, the covers pulled up to his shoulders, but his eyes were open as he stared at the ceiling.
“Can’t sleep?” Grayson kept his voice low.
Ryan turned his head on the pillow. His hair was mussed, falling across his forehead in a way that made Grayson want to brush it back. “My brain won't stop. Every time I close my eyes I see that text message. Or I hear sounds and convince myself someone's breaking in.” He let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “I’m a mess. This is me being a complete mess.”
Grayson moved into the room, closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking seemed loud in the quiet. “You’re not a mess.”
“I’m literally hiding in your bed because I’m too scared to sleep alone. That’s pretty much the definition of a mess.” Ryan pushed himself up on one elbow. The covers slipped down, revealing the thin T-shirt that hung off his shoulder. “You don't have to babysit me. I’ll be fine. Eventually. Probably.”
The humor didn’t reach his eyes. Grayson could see the fear still there, lurking behind the jokes, could smell it on Ryan’s skin, underneath the fruity shampoo and laundry detergent. His mate was terrified, trying to hide it, and Grayson was done pretending he could maintain distance.
“Move over,” Grayson said.
Ryan blinked at him. “What?”
“Move over.” Grayson pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the chair. Ryan’s eyes went wide, tracking the movement. “You’re not sleeping alone.”
“You’re getting in bed with me.” Ryan’s voice pitched higher. “That’s what’s happening right now. You’re just deciding to get in bed with me.”
“That a problem?” Grayson unbuttoned his jeans but left them on. Getting fully undressed seemed like a step too far, even as everything in him wanted to strip down and wrap himself around his mate until the fear disappeared.
“No. Not a problem. Definitely not a problem.” Ryan scooted over, making room. The covers rustled with the movement. “This is fine. Totally normal. Two guys who barely know each other sharing a bed because of death threats. Very normal situation.”
Grayson climbed into bed beside him. The mattress dipped under his weight. Ryan’s warmth radiated from inches away, and Grayson’s lion rumbled with satisfaction at the proximity. His mate. In his bed. Where he belonged.
“You’re really warm,” Ryan said. He was still propped up on one elbow, looking down at Grayson like he didn’t quite believe this was happening. “Like, really warm. Are you always this warm, or is it a medical condition I should be concerned about?”
“I run hot.” Grayson reached up and tugged gently on Ryan’s arm. “Lie down.”
Ryan let himself be pulled down. He settled onto his side, facing Grayson, leaving a few inches of space between them. His eyes were huge in the dim light, pupils dilated. Grayson could hear his heart racing, could smell the spike of something that wasn't quite fear anymore. Something headier.
“This is better, right?” Ryan’s hands fidgeted with the edge of the covers. “Having someone else here. Less scary. Although now I’m worried I’ll keep you awake with my anxious fidgeting. I’m a terrible sleeper. I steal covers and talk in my sleep, and apparently, I kick sometimes, though I have no memory of that so it might be slander.”
Grayson moved closer, eliminating the space between them. He wrapped an arm around Ryan’s waist and pulled him in until Ryan’s back pressed against his torso. The position put Grayson’s nose near Ryan’s hair, and he breathed in the scent of his mate. Fruit and fear and, underneath it all, something uniquely Ryan.
