She could lose herself in this, give in completely to the fire building between them. His hands began moving lower, his fingers skimming the hem of her sweater, and she knew with crystal clarity that if she let this continue, there would be no going back.
You're here for Lila.
Reality crashed over her like ice water.
"No." Harper wrenched herself away, scrambling to her feet on unsteady legs. "This is a mistake. I can't do this."
"Harper, wait?—"
But she was already running, fleeing up the grand staircase as his voice called after her, not stopping until she reached her guest room and slammed the door, turning the lock with trembling fingers.
What has gotten into me?
EIGHT
DORIAN
Dorian woke up the next morning like a man who'd spent the night battling himself in a war he couldn't win. His large frame sprawled across tangled sheets, muscles coiled with residual tension from hours of restless torment. Sleep had been nothing more than a cruel joke—every time he'd closed his eyes, he'd felt Harper's soft mouth moving against his, tasted the sweetness of her surrender before she'd fled like he was poison instead of salvation.
He dragged both hands through his dark hair, the motion rough and frustrated. His wolf prowled restlessly, a constant reminder of what had transpired by the fireplace. That kiss—that perfect, devastating kiss—had ignited something primal and fierce inside him, something that refused to be contained or reasoned with.
The mate bond pulsed through his system like a charged wire, stronger now after their connection. His wolf had pressed so close to the surface during that kiss that Dorian had nearly claimed what belonged to him with an intensity that would have terrified Harper completely.
She is ours,his wolf snarled, pacing behind his ribs.Claim her. Mark her. Make her understand.
But the memory of Harper's face when she'd pulled away—wide-eyed and vulnerable and utterly panicked—cut through his wolf's demands like a blade. She hadn't been afraid of him exactly, but of something deeper. Something that made her run instead of stay, made her call their perfect moment a mistake.
Dorian rolled out of bed with a growl, his bare feet hitting the cold hardwood. He couldn't afford this distraction. Couldn't let his personal desires override his responsibilities, no matter how his wolf clawed at his restraint.
Lila comes first,he reminded himself firmly, pulling on dark jeans and a flannel shirt with mechanical precision.
Harper's breakthrough with Lila yesterday was the first real progress we've seen in months. He can't be the reason Harper leaves. Because if Harper fled now—if his inability to control himself around his fated mate drove her away—Lila would retreat back into that shell of trauma and fear. His sister had actually smiled last night, and had agreed to see her friends. That fragile hope was worth more than his wolf's demands.
Even if denying the mate bond felt like slowly dying.
Dorian made his way through the quiet corridors of the estate, his footsteps muffled on the runner carpets he'd installed years ago. The familiar scents of home—wood polish, coffee brewing in the kitchen, the lingering woodsmoke of last night's fire—should have comforted him. Instead, he was tormented further by Harper's jasmine and rain scent threading through everything, marking his space as surely as if she'd claimed it.
Professional boundaries,he decided grimly.Distance. Let Harper do her job without me hovering.
When he reached Lila's room, surprise stopped him short. Her door stood open—actually open—for the first time in months. The sight sent a rush of relief through his chest so powerful it nearly staggered him.
Harper did that. In one session, she reached my sister in ways other therapists couldn't.
Lila sat cross-legged on her bed, sketching something in a notebook, the morning light streaming bright through her windows. She looked up when his shadow fell across her doorway, and Dorian caught a glimpse of something he hadn't seen since before the attack—genuine contentment.
"Morning," she said, her voice carrying none of the brittle tension that had become her default.
"Morning." Dorian leaned against the doorframe, fighting the urge to hover protectively. "I'm heading into town to work with Marty today. Reconstruction jobs."
Lila's pencil paused on the paper. "You're leaving? During my session with Harper?"
The question held layers—surprise, but also something that might have been approval. As if his absence might actually be welcome.
"Harper doesn't need me hovering while she works." Dorian pulled his truck keys from his pocket and tossed them onto Lila's desk. The metal clinked against the wood with finality. "You can take my truck later when you meet up with Sophie and Courtney. Harper will drive and supervise, but don't leave town limits. And Lila?—"
"Be safe, I know." But she was smiling as she said it, another real smile that transformed her entire face.
Dorian studied his sister for a long moment, seeing echoes of the vibrant girl she'd been before trauma stole her light. "I can't believe I'm actually letting you do this," he admitted roughly.
