Relief flooded him so completely his body shook. "Good."
Harper finished securing the last bandage and stepped back to survey her handiwork, something shifting in the air between them—the professional distance dissolving into something far more dangerous.
"You should rest now," he said, standing carefully. His shoulder protested the movement, but the wounds were clean and properly dressed thanks to her gentle care.
Instead of moving toward the door, Harper reached for his uninjured hand. Her fingers were warm, slightly trembling, and when she looked up at him, her eyes held a vulnerability that made his chest ache.
"Can I stay with you tonight?" The words rushed out like a confession. "I just feel a little unsettled still."
Every protective instinct he possessed roared to life. His mate needed comfort, safety, and the reassurance of his presence. Nothing in the world could have made him refuse her.
"Of course."
ELEVEN
HARPER
Harper followed Dorian from his bathroom into his bedroom, her heart hammering with a wild rhythm that wasn't caused by the lingering adrenaline from the attack. The smart thing—the professional thing—would be to thank him for saving her life and retreat to the safety of the guest room. But the thought of sleeping alone tonight, of lying in the dark with nothing but her racing thoughts and the echo of snarling wolves, made her chest tight with panic.
I shouldn't have asked to stay with him tonight.
The realization crashed over her as she watched Dorian move toward his dresser with that predatory grace that seemed effortless despite his injuries. She'd spent years perfecting the art of emotional self-sufficiency, of handling her fears and wounds in solitude rather than risking the vulnerability of needing someone. But something about tonight—about him—had shattered her carefully maintained walls.
Maybe it was the way he'd fought those wolves with lethal fury to protect her. Maybe it was how gently he'd accepted her care afterward, as if no one had ever bothered to tend his wounds before. Or maybe it was simply that for the first time in her adult life, she felt genuinely safe with a man.
And that terrified her more than the wolves had.
Dorian reached his dresser and Harper's breath caught as he dropped the towel from his waist without ceremony. She tried to look away—God, she should look away—but her gaze seemed magnetized to the powerful lines of his body. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, thick thighs corded with muscle, and between them…
Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized he was becoming aroused, his body responding to her presence even as he tried to maintain respectful distance. The knowledge that he wanted her—that this controlled, commanding Alpha was affected by her—sent liquid fire through her veins.
He pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs with efficient movements, the fabric doing little to hide his impressive physique, then turned toward the massive four-poster bed that dominated the room. Harper could tell from the craftsmanship that he'd built it himself—solid, enduring, strong. Just like the man who'd made it.
"I can take the couch," he said, nodding toward the sitting area near the fireplace. "You should have the bed after what you've been through tonight."
"No." The word came out sharper than she'd intended, revealing the depth of her need. "I mean, I don't want to keep you from your own bed. We can... we can share."
Something flickered in his blue eyes—surprise, hunger, and what might have been relief. "Only if you're sure."
Harper nodded, not trusting her voice as he climbed onto the mattress. The bed was enormous, easily large enough for two people to sleep without touching, but the sight of Dorian settling under the sheets made her pulse race with possibilities she had no business entertaining.
She turned away and began removing her sweater with trembling fingers, hyperaware of his gaze tracking hermovements. The fabric pulled over her head, leaving her in just her lace bra and jeans. When she glanced back, Dorian's eyes had gone dark as midnight, his jaw clenched with obvious restraint.
He's trying so hard not to reach for me.
The knowledge should have made her cautious. Instead, it sent a thrill of feminine power through her as she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. His sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room, and when she straightened in nothing but matching black lace, the hunger in his expression made her feel beautiful and desired in ways she'd never experienced.
Harper climbed into the bed, immediately surrounded by his scent—pine and cedar and something uniquely masculine that made her head spin. Heat radiated from his skin like a furnace, and she found herself gravitating toward that warmth despite every rational thought screaming at her to maintain distance.
This is insane. You're supposed to be professional.
But professionalism felt like a distant concept as she settled beside him, that strange magnetic pull she'd felt since their first handshake now pulsing through her blood like a drug. Every cell in her body seemed to recognize his presence, to crave closer contact with an intensity that defied logic.
She tried to maintain a respectable gap between them, but the pull grew stronger, more insistent with each passing minute. Her childhood trauma whispered warnings about trusting men with power, about the danger of needing someone who could hurt her. But beneath that familiar fear was something new—a bone-deep certainty that Dorian would never harm her, that his strength existed to protect rather than control.
"Dorian?" Her voice came out smaller than she'd intended, vulnerable in ways that made her want to crawl under the covers and hide.
"Yeah?"
