My wolf strained against my control at the rival male circling our territory, documenting our mate’s movements, leaving love notes at her door.
“Keep watching.Document everything.”My voice came out lower than intended, the growl bleeding through.“I’ll deal with him soon.”
Petrov nodded.He had been with me long enough to recognize the predator in my tone.Knew what “deal with” meant when I said it like that.
Joe had made himself a target.And I was very, very good at eliminating targets.
The cold certainty settled in my chest.Joe was the threat.Joe was the stalker.Everything pointed to him, every piece of evidence, every suspicious behavior.The blood fountain, the notes, the escalating harassment.The pattern was clear, the evidence mounting, the conclusion inevitable.
I would protect my mate.Whatever it took.
I found her in the lobby that afternoon.
She was handling a crisis, of course.Some supplier dispute, delivery schedules disrupted by the police investigation, guests complaining about the visible security presence.I watched from the shadow of a pillar as she navigated it all.
My wolf purred with pride.Strong mate.Leader.Pack would respect her.
She had grown since I first met her.The frightened girl who had walked into my office to negotiate her father’s debt had transformed into this woman, this force of nature who refused to be broken by anything life threw at her.Not her father’s death.Not the contract.Not the forced marriage.Not murder in her hotel.
She bent but never broke.
The lobby smelled of fresh flowers and expensive perfume and the lingering fear of guests who hadn’t quite forgotten the blood in the fountain.I filtered through all of it, tracking her scent instead, mixed with the faintest trace of me still clinging to her skin despite her morning shower.
Across the lobby, her eyes found mine.
The connection was instant.Memory passed between us, last night and this morning and the tears she had cried in my arms.Neither of us looked away.The distance between us hummed with awareness, with the connection that we had shared and the uncertainty of what came next.
I saw the moment she considered crossing to me.The slight shift in her weight, the parting of her lips.Then professionalism won, and she turned back to the staff member waiting for her attention.
I left without approaching her.The distance was necessary.She needed space to process whatever was shifting between us, and I needed to give it to her without crowding.Without demanding.Without letting the wolf push for more than she was ready to give.
But tonight I would wait.And if she came to me again…
My wolf paced with restless anticipation.
The manor was quiet when I returned that evening.
I sat in my study with reports spread across my desk, not really reading them.Listening instead for her car in the driveway, for her footsteps on the stairs, for any sign that the woman who had fallen asleep in my arms would choose to do it again.
The fire crackled low in the grate.The whiskey in my glass caught the light.I had poured it an hour ago and hadn’t taken a single sip.Couldn’t focus on anything except the silence of the house, the empty space where she should be.
Alice appeared in the doorway with dinner on a tray.She set it on the side table and lingered, watching me with those knowing eyes.
“She came home an hour ago,” Alice said quietly.“Went straight to her room.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Give her time, child.”Alice’s tone was gentle, maternal.She had known me since I was a boy.Knew what Lena meant to me, even if I had never said the words.“Whatever’s happening between you, it can’t be rushed.”
“I know.”
She left me to my waiting.
The minutes crawled past.I ate without tasting, drank whiskey without feeling the burn.My wolf paced beneath my skin, restless, anxious.What if she didn’t come?What if last night had been the exception, not the beginning?
What if I had let myself hope for nothing?
Then I heard footsteps on the stairs.