Page 31 of Gunnar

Mine.

Not mine like that—mine to protect.

My beast doesn’t care.

It presses forward eagerly, urging me closer. My hand drifts toward the doorknob before I catch myself and yank it back.

“No,” I murmur. Not going in there.

Just to see.

No, she’s fine. She’s asleep.

The image flashes through my mind anyway.

Her dark hair spread across the pillow. Long lashes against her cheeks. Warm under the blankets.

The scent of her skin.

The memory of her standing in the firelight downstairs, damp hair clinging to her shoulders, those tight black leggings⁠—

I grind my teeth.

This is not helping.

I step back from the door before I do something I’ll regret.

The beast grumbles in disappointment.

“She’s human,” I remind it.

It huffs.

Mate.

“Yes, I know she’s my mate—” The word still feels strange on my tongue, in my brain.

I never expected one.

And definitely not like this.

She’s human.

She’s got the Russian mafia after her.

All I can do is protect her, keep her safe.

And one day, when she’s not in danger anymore, she’ll leave.

I drag myself away from her door and hurry down the hall.

The lodge door groans when I push it open.

Cold air rushes in immediately, full of pine and frost.

I need that.

The clearing lies quiet beneath the fading stars. The horizon is beginning to soften, the black sky slowly thinning toward gray.