Page 21 of Howl About That

But watching her sleep in his passenger seat, seeing her there in his personal space, it felt impossibly right, like she'd always belonged there. The fierce lioness who'd dominated that rogue male lion in combat, who'd killed without hesitation to protect her territory, to protect him—she belonged by his side.

The memory of their battle sent heat through his veins. He'd known she was dangerous, had sensed the predator beneath her composure, but seeing her in action had been breathtaking. The way she'd moved in lioness form—fluid power and calculated strikes, every motion designed for maximum damage. She'd fought like the apex predator she was, and they'd moved together like they'd been partners for years instead of strangers thrown together by fate.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as another wave of possessive satisfaction crashed through him. This woman—this fierce, brilliant, impossibly stubborn Alpha—was his.

She's my equal in every way.

But the political implications made his jaw clench. Helias would lose his mind when he discovered Keiro's fated mate was a lioness Alpha. The pack elder had spent years pushing suitable wolf females in Keiro's direction, muttering about pure bloodlines and tradition and the importance of strengthening pack bonds through proper alliances.

Let him object. Poppy is worth fighting for.

The thought surprised him with its vehemence. He'd known Poppy for less than forty-eight hours, but already the idea of anyone questioning her worth, of anyone suggesting she wasn't perfect for him, made his wolf snarl with protective fury.

Poppy stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips as she moved against the window. The mate bond pulsed between them, and Keiro had to fight the urge to reach over and touch her, to offer comfort even in sleep.

The city lights began to appear on the horizon, Manhattan's skyline glittering like scattered diamonds against the night sky. Soon they'd reach his penthouse, and he'd have to wake her, have to watch her walls slam back into place as reality intruded on this quiet moment.

But for now, she was safe beside him, finally getting the rest she desperately needed. And despite the complications ahead—the pack politics, the pride dynamics, the financial crisis still hanging over her head like a sword—Keiro found himself smiling as he drove through the darkness with his sleeping mate.

Thirty minutes later, the underground garage of his building appeared ahead, security gates recognizing his vehicle and sliding open with mechanical precision. Keiro eased the Bentley into his reserved space, the engine's rumble echoing off the concrete walls before falling silent.

He sat for a moment and studied Poppy's sleeping form against the window. Her breathing was deep and even, exhaustion keeping her under despite the change in motion. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, a testament to the stress she'd been carrying, and something protective and fierce rose in his chest.

She's been fighting alone for too long.

Moving carefully to avoid waking her, Keiro exited the vehicle and retrieved her overnight bag from the backseat. The leather was worn but well-maintained, practical rather thanluxurious—so perfectly her that it made his chest tight with unexpected emotion. Then he opened the passenger door very slowly and leaned down quickly, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. She stirred as he lifted her, but didn't wake, instead mumbling something unintelligible against his chest.

"Rest," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "You're safe now."

The words seemed to reach her even in sleep. Her body relaxed into his embrace, and a soft smile curved her lips as she unconsciously pressed closer to his warmth. The trust implicit in the gesture hit him like a tidal wave—this woman who fought the world daily was allowing herself to be vulnerable with him.

Seconds later, the private elevator carried them silently upward, and Keiro found himself memorizing every detail—the weight of her in his arms, the way her hair caught the elevator's soft lighting, and the scent of wildflowers that clung to her skin. When the doors finally opened to reveal his penthouse, he moved through the space with careful steps, not wanting to disturb her rest.

His bedroom was all clean lines and controlled luxury, the massive bed dominating the space with its dark wood frame. Keiro set her bag down gently before lowering Poppy onto the mattress, his movements reverent as he tucked the covers around her sleeping form.

She stirred again, and he froze, but she only smiled in her sleep and curled deeper into the blankets that carried his scent. The sight of her in his bed, surrounded by his scent and finally at peace, sent satisfaction coursing through every cell in his body.

Mine.

The mate bond pulled at him as he moved to the other side of the bed, demanding closer contact, demanding he wrap her inhis arms and never let go. His wolf wanted to curl around their mate, to offer warmth and protection through the night.

But she hadn't consciously agreed to share his bed, even if her subconscious mind seemed perfectly content with the arrangement. Keiro stretched out on top of the covers, maintaining careful distance even as every instinct urged him to eliminate the space between them.

He closed his eyes and tried to find sleep, her scent filling every breath and the steady rhythm of her breathing creating a peace he hadn't experienced in far too many years.

For the first time since inheriting impossible responsibilities at eighteen, Keiro felt like he might finally have found something worth more than duty.

Dawn crept through the windows of Keiro's penthouse bedroom, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. He surfaced from sleep gradually, awareness returning in layers—the familiar scent of cedar from his sheets, the distant hum of Manhattan traffic forty stories below, and something else. Something that made his wolf purr with deep satisfaction. Wildflowers and rain.

Poppy.

His eyes opened fully to find her pressed against his side, her dark hair spilling across his chest like silk. At some point during the night, she'd migrated toward him, drawn by the same magnetic pull that had his arms aching to wrap around her sleeping form.

She came to me in her sleep.

The thought sent fierce satisfaction coursing through his veins. Some part of her recognized what they were to each other. Or perhaps her lioness had sought the comfort and protection his wolf offered, had trusted him enough to curl against him in sleep.

The mate bond hummed between them, stronger now with proximity. His wolf wanted to roll her beneath him, to wake her with kisses and claim what was theirs. The urge was almost overwhelming—to thread his fingers through that silky hair, to taste the pulse point at her throat, to map every inch of her skin with his large hands.