Brie unlocked her apartment door,the keys jangling in the quiet hallway. Inside, Hunter moved through his security routine. Check the windows. Test the locks. Scan the shadows where someone could hide.
“I have chicken in the fridge,” Brie said, not quite looking at him. She moved toward the kitchen, and he followed because his wolf wouldn’t let him do otherwise. “Unless you prefer military rations or whatever bounty hunters eat.”
“Haven’t had an MRE in years.” He leaned against the counter, watching her pull ingredients from the refrigerator. She seasoned the chicken, the scents of rosemary and thyme filling the apartment. The sizzle when the meat hit the pan made him realize how much he missed a sense of feeling at home.
“Can you grab plates?” She gestured toward a cabinet.
He stepped into the kitchen to grab them, so close to Brie that he could smell her scent. His wolf whined at the near-contact, at the pointless torture of maintaining his distance when every instinct screamed to pull her close.
They moved around each other in the small space like dancers who’d never rehearsed together. When he grabbed silverware, she’d already shifted to give him access to the drawer. The mate bond hummed between them, trying to synchronize their movements despite the walls they’d both built.
Twenty minutes later, they sat at opposite ends of her small table, the food between them like a barrier. Hunter ate mechanically, the chicken tender and perfectly seasoned, while watching Brie push food around her plate. She’d barely taken three bites.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly. “For last night. For saving my life.”
“It’s my job.”
The words came out automatically, but he immediately knew they were wrong. Her face shuttered, shoulders drawing in like he’d slapped her.
“Right. Your job.” She set down her fork with deliberate care. “You deleted our match, and now you’re stuck protecting me, anyway. Must be frustrating.”
Every word was a blade between his ribs. Deserved. He’d deleted her without a thought, thrown away their chance because he’d believed he couldn’t have any distractions from his mission. Now she was his mission, and it felt like cruel irony.
“That’s not...” He stopped, unsure how to explain what he couldn’t understand himself.
“Not what? Not true?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You didn’t even look at my profile, Hunter. Didn’t read my message. Just deleted me like I was spam in your inbox.”
He stood abruptly, unable to sit there and see the hurt in her eyes. His legs carried him to the sink where he gripped the edges.
“You think I don’t regret that?” The words ripped from his throat.
“I don’t know what you think. You won’t tell me.”
His knuckles went white against the sink. His wolf howled to turn around, to go to her, to explain everything. But the words felt trapped behind years of walls, and decades of trained emotional suppression.
“You aren’t just a job,” he said finally, forcing each word out like pulling shrapnel from a wound.
“Then what am I?”
The question hung in the air between them. He could feel her waiting, feel the weight of her gaze on his back. His wolf had been screaming the answer since the moment he’d walked into her bakery.
“You’re my mate.” The admission came out rough. “You’re everything.”
Silence stretched between them.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” Her voice was flat.
Hunter finally turned to face her, and she looked confused, angry, sad. Scared. His chest ached with the need to go to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never... I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Need someone the way I need you.”
The silence stretched. Brie stared at him, and he could see the conflicting emotions crossing her face.
“I should check the locks,” he said, retreating into duty because it was safer than standing there with his heart exposed. “And set up for tonight.”
