I wake to soft light filtering through the curtains. His steady breathing beside me is comforting, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. The warmth of his body seeps into mine.
For a brief, precious moment, the world outside this room doesn’t exist—no looming threats, no iron grip of my father’s expectations. Just me and Zayn. I let myself sink into the illusion of serenity, nestled against him, the Alpha whose presence promises protection and stirs something deep and aching inside me.
Reality claws at the edges of my peace, reminding me I can’t stay hidden here. As much as I crave this escape, I know I have to leave. The weight of my responsibilities— and my father’s wrath if he finds out where I’ve been—pull me back.
I shift carefully, not wanting to wake him. My gaze lingers on the sharp lines of his face, softened in sleep. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and I trace the arc of his brow with my eyes, trying to commit it to memory. His gray eyes, now hidden, twitch beneath long lashes. I wonder what dreams haunt him when his brow furrows like that.
As much as I like Zayn, I barely know him. Right now, I’m every serial killer’s dream—trusting blindly. Yet with Zayn, it feels like home. I don’t know if it’s the sire bond or if I’m startingto fall for him. He’s nothing like the ruthless Alpha people make him out to be. He’s nothing like Deacon.
Deacon would’ve never stood up to my father. He never came to check on me unless I begged for it. I chased him. Not once did he chase me. Zayn, though… Zayn is ready to start a war. Over me.
With a quiet sigh, I slip from beneath the covers. My feet hit the cold floor as I sit on the edge of the bed, grounding myself in the uncomfortable truth—I’m going to be in deep trouble. The warmth of Zayn’s body still clings to me, and I hold onto it like armor.
I’ll need it.
“You’re up early,” Zayn murmurs, voice husky as his fingers curl around my wrist. He shifts beside me, gray eyes slowly opening, catching me in their hold. He pats the bed, tugging the covers back invitingly.
“Don’t make me drag you back. I wasn’t done cuddling you,” he teases, lips twitching with a sleepy smile.
“I need to get to school,” I say, already bracing for the day ahead.
His eyes flash black for a heartbeat. “You need to get your butt back in bed.” I raise an eyebrow at his playful tone.
“Ten minutes,” I bargain. “Then you need to run me back to my dorm.”
I move to lie back down, but he grabs me, yanking me under the blanket and trapping me there.
“Stay,” he whispers. “You don’t have to leave, Cleo.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with heartbreaking tenderness. Then his lips find mine, and I melt into the kiss, lost in the taste and feel of him. Zayn. Just Zayn.
However, the outside world creeps back in. The weight of what’s waiting out there presses against my chest.
“I can’t,” I whisper against his lips.
His brow furrows as he pulls back to study me. “Why not?” he asks. “You’re nineteen, Cleo. Technically an adult. You don’t have to answer to your father.”
“An adult in human years,” I correct him. “In werewolf society, I’m still under his protection until I shift.”
“You don’t need his protection. You have me.” His thumb brushes my cheek.
“The silence from him… it’s the calm before the storm. You know it.”
Zayn’s arm tightens around me, his aura flaring. It rushes out so suddenly it steals the breath from my lungs. I gasp. He startles, pulling it back instantly.
“Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. I know he didn’t mean to lose control.
He sighs—a deep rumble of frustration—and sits up in one smooth motion. His arms close around me again, and I know the feelings I have aren’t one-sided.
“Let me worry about your father,” he growls softly. “I can handle him.”
His gray eyes lock with mine, burning with conviction. And as much as I want to believe him, to take comfort in that promise, I can’t. Because if I do, we risk everything.
Reluctantly, I pull away from his warmth, the cool air kissing my skin where his touch lingers.
“I have to go back to college, Zayn,” I say, sliding out of bed and wrapping myself in the thin barrier of a sheet. My heart races as I meet his silver gaze. “I won’t risk my pack.”
“What risk, Cleo?”
