His scent reaches me before the elevator doors whisper open three floors below—cedar and rain intensified by the storm raging beyond my windows, but carrying something else tonight, something sharper that speaks of decision made and boundaries crossed. I set down the portfolio I've been clutching and listen to his ascent through the building, tracking his progress with senses that never quite learned to ignore potential threats. The wolf in me tilts her head with interest rather than alarm, recognizing his approach as deliberate rather than opportunistic.
The soft knock at my door comes exactly when I expect it, his timing precise enough to suggest he's been monitoring my location as carefully as I've been tracking his. "It's open," I call, my voice steadier than the pulse that quickens d
