"Sorry," Reid bit out, stepping back. "Let me get your bags."
But Cody was still staring at him with that odd, searching expression. "You're…intense," he said carefully.
Reid choked on a laugh.Intense. That was one word for the all-consuming need to bundle Cody inside the house and stand guard at the door for the next decade.
"Occupational hazard," he joked, and grabbed the luggage.
Reid’s house was large but not ostentatious—four bedrooms, open concept living area, modern kitchen, and a basementsafe room. Reid gave Cody the quickest version of the security briefing. He covered reinforced doors, panic button locations, perimeter alarms, and the safe room access code.
Cody absorbed it all quietly, then asked, "Where will you sleep?"
The question caught Reid off-guard. "I'll take the room next to yours."
"You don't have to stay in the house. I'm sure there's—"
"I'm staying in the house." Reid's voice came out harder than he intended. At Cody's flinch, he modulated. "That's the protocol. I stay close. I need to be able to protect you at all times."
Cody nodded slowly. "Okay. That's… okay."
Reid showed him to the master bedroom—the most defensible room, which was why Reid was putting Cody in it even though every possessive instinct rebelled at not claiming that space for them both.
Jesus.
Reid needed to get his head on straight.
"Get some rest," he told Cody. "You need sleep."
"Gee, thanks."
"I mean—" Reid caught the faint smile on Cody's face. He was teasing. "I know from the time Diane called me that you couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night. Did you sleep on the flight?”
Cody shook his head. “No. With everything that’s been going on, my mind races every time I close my eyes.”
“You're safe here,” Reid vowed. “You can sleep. I'll be right here."
Cody's smile faded into something more serious. "Reid. Thank you. For taking this seriously. The cops acted like I was paranoid."
"You're not." Reid held his gaze. "Someone violated your space. That's a credible threat. And it won't happen here. I promise."
He shouldn't promise. Promises were emotional, personal. But the words came out anyway, and Cody's expression softened with relief.
"I'll try to sleep," Cody said. He hesitated, then added, "I'm glad it's you. Handling this. You make me feel… I don't know. Safe."
Then he closed the door, and Reid was left standing in the hallway, reeling. His mate felt safe. Satisfaction unfurled in his chest—but satisfaction brought its own torment—the need to verify, to protect, to never let anything harm what was his.
Reid forced himself to walk away. To check the perimeter sensors. To make coffee he didn't drink. To pull up the case files Diane had sent him—photos of the letters, statements from venue security, a list of everyone in Cody's inner circle.
He should be analyzing the threat. Building profiles. Planning next steps.
Instead, he stood at the kitchen counter and listened to the sound of Cody moving around in the bedroom above. Water running. Footsteps. Then silence as Cody lay down.
Reid's bear wanted to be in that room. Wanted to curl around their mate and keep watch. Wanted to make absolutely certain nothing could reach him.
Instead, Reid compromised by dragging a chair into the hallway outside Cody's bedroom. He sat, back against the wall, and listened through the door to Cody's breathing even out into sleep.
Reid didn't sleep. He never slept on the first night of protection detail.
But tonight, it wasn't protocol keeping him awake.
