I could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
Outside the world kept turning, but in here, wrapped up in his arms with my feet still tingling from the best masSean of my life, I felt warm. Safe. Home.
“You’re dangerous,” I mumbled.
“Why?” Rafael asked.
“You’re making it really hard not to picture what forever looks like.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Then don’t fight it.”
Chapter 16
James
I didn’t realizehow quiet it had gotten until Rafael went still beside me.
We were halfway back from a supply run, the sun dipping low behind us. The asphalt still held the warmth of the day, but the breeze had turned cool and sharp.
We’d taken the alley behind Bear & Bun as a shortcut, still laughing about Cyrus’ latest croissant disaster.
He’d tried to flavor them with lavender and lemon zest but ended up with something that tasted like soap. We were making plans for dinner. I figured something greasy, probably burgers.
I was thinking about how nice it’d be to curl up on Rafael’s couch with our feet tangled together and cartoons playing in the background.
I remember the scent of yeast and sugar still clinging to Rafael’s hoodie. The weight of his hand brushing mine. That particular brand of quiet peace that only came with him.
It had been a good day, until it wasn’t. Rafael’s whole body went tense like a wire stretched too tight.
His stride slowed, and a low growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. It vibrated through the air like the first crack of a coming storm.
“What is it?” I asked, even though part of me already knew.
We weren’t alone.
I caught it next. A scent riding the wind. Not familiar. Not friendly. Feral. Foreign. Oil and sweat and smoke and power. Predatory, heavy with aggression.
My wolf bristled beneath my skin, hackles rising.
Rafael stepped in front of me without a word just as three figures slid out of the shadows ahead of us like oil slicks. Two more flanked us from behind, boxing us in.
Five.
Big men. Thick-necked and broad-shouldered. Covered in tattoos that looked more like warnings than art.
Shifters, all of them. Definitely not locals. Their grins stretched too wide. Too hungry.
“Well, well,” one of them said, voice sharp and high like a hyena’s laugh. Coyote, maybe. Lean build. Crooked teeth that caught the light. “Look what we have here. Lovebirds out for a stroll.”
Rafael didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His hand flexed at his side, claws half-shifting, his body already a wall between them and me.
“You don’t want to do this,” he said, voice low and deadly calm.
Another shifter stepped forward, heavier set with scars down one side of his face like claw marks that never healed right.
“See, it’s not about wanting. Orders are orders. We’re just here to deliver a mesSean.”
“You delivered it,” Rafael said. “Now back off.”
