I’m not alone.
CHAPTER 27
You Have To Go
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
Morning light filters through the thin curtains, painting golden stripes across Astrid's sleeping form.
I've been awake for an hour. Watching her breathe. Memorizing the curve of her cheek, the dark fan of lashes against her skin. In sleep, the fierce woman looks almost peaceful, the constant vigilance melting away.
My wolf lies quiet within me, content in her presence. No ambrosia necessary. The closeness of her soothes the beast more effectively than any olympian concoction.
I feel... whole. Connected. The emptiness that's been my constant companion since losing my soul shard has eased. Not gone, but bearable now that I've found her.
Her scent surrounds me and is mingled with my own. The territorial satisfaction this brings runs deep, primal and true. My chest tightens with an unfamiliar ache that's almost painful in its intensity.
Mine, my wolf whispers. Ours.
Sharp knocking shatters the morning quiet.
My body tenses instantly, muscles coiling tight as my senses snap to full alert. My wolf surges forward, hackles raised at the intrusion. One arm moves instinctively across Astrid's body.
I inhale deeply, nostrils flaring as I sort through the unfamiliar scents seeping under the doorframe. Two males. Human.
"Mathieson! Rise and shine!"
Astrid jolts awake at the shout, her hand already reaching for the weapon on her nightstand before her eyes are fully open. Zero to combat-ready in a heartbeat.
"We brought breakfast!" A different male voice calls through the door. "Proper celebration for our return to active duty!"
My eyes narrow as I process the second voice. Their casual familiarity with Astrid grates against my instincts.
Her eyes find mine, wide with alarm. "Shit!" She scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets. "It's Ghost and Sherlock—my partners. You have to get out of here."
"Partners?" The word comes out like a growl. These men know her, work with her, and protect her. A surge of jealousy punches through me, hot and unreasonable. I know I have no right to it, but centuries of instinct aren't so easily dismissed.
"No—not like that," she hisses, yanking open drawers and pulling out clothes. "My team. From GUIDE. The ones who've been on medical leave since the chimera mission in Rome."
"Mathieson!" The first voice again, followed by more knocking. "We know you're in there! Your car’s in the parking garage."
Astrid drags a hand through her tangled hair, panic sharpening her movements. "If they find you here..."
She doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. We both know what GUIDE would do to me. But I don’t look magickal. I look human.
"You need to go," she says, grabbing my shirt from the floor and throwing it at me. "Now."
I catch the shirt but make no move to put it on. Something primal stirs within me—a desire to be discovered here, in her bed. Let her colleagues see who she's chosen. Let them smell my scent on her skin, see the marks my mouth has left along her collarbone. "I don't run from men."
My wolf prowls beneath the surface, resistant to retreat. Show them. Let them know she is protected now.
“I’m not asking you to run. I’m asking you to hide.” She pulls on jeans with frantic efficiency. "They can’t see you. Someone will figure out who you are… what you are. Sherlock is already so suspicious. I can’t chance it."
She grabs my arm, tugging me toward the window. I stand immovable, like stone beneath her fingers. The thought of slinking away while other males enter her space feels like acid in my blood. I do not hide.
The thought of walking away, even for her protection, feels like tearing open a wound that's barely begun to heal.
