The Anchor. The not-quite-argument.You’re mine. She’s mine.His quiet, impossiblecome home with me tonight.
Her saying yes.
She groaned and scrubbed her face. Brilliant. Another terrible decision starring Arthur Wells.
The bed was warm. The room was quiet. She could roll over and pretend, for an hour, that none of this had happened.
Downstairs, Aurelia laughed.
The sound was light and startled and…happy.
Dani was already out of bed.
She dragged on leggings and the flannel shirt from the chair, twisted her hair into a knot. The bite on her neck twinged as she straightened, the bond humming, pulling toward its source.
Arthur. Calm. Awake. Watchful. Closer than he’d felt in ten years.
She opened the door.
The alpha house felt different from the compound, the hallway wood worn smooth by years of shoulders, crookedphotos, and old sketches on the walls, a side table cluttered with keys, a scarf, and a carved wolf.
A home.
She went downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step she remembered from teenage escapes.
“So…you turn into a bear?” Aurelia’s voice floated up, eager, fascinated.
Dani winced.
“Wolf,” Arthur corrected, patient. “They just call me the Ice Bear.”
“Oh. Can I see?”
“Not in the kitchen,” he said, amusement under the gravel. “Another time. Outside.”
“Promise?”
Dani leaned into the doorway.
Arthur stood at the stove, frying pan in hand, hair tied back, barefoot in a worn T-shirt and sweats. Aurelia sat at the big wooden table, legs swinging, chin shiny with syrup, watching him intently as he flipped another pancake.
He glanced over at her daughter’s question, then saw Dani.
He went still. The bond tugged, sharp and bright.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she managed.
Aurelia twisted round, lighting up. “Mom! Look, he can cook.”
“I am multi-talented,” Arthur said dryly. “Sit. Eat. Then you can judge.”
It was domestic. That was the problem. Alpha at the stove. Her kid relaxed. Sun catching dust motes in the air.
It seemed dangerous.
“Why don’t you go and unpack while I talk to Arthur?” Dani said to Aurelia, forcing lightness.
