Chapter 11
1217 Words
Edward
The moment her lips part against mine, my wolf stops pacing.
He goes still.
That silence is worse than the growl.
There, he says—low, reverent.
She felt us.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. Every instinct in me—Alpha, wolf, man—screams to pull her closer, to deepen the kiss until there’s no doubt left in her body what she is to me.
But this is the moment where control matters most.
Grace pulls back first, just an inch, her brow furrowing as if she’s trying to understand something that slipped through her fingers.
“Edward,” she whispers. “Did you—”
She stops.
Her hand is still fisted in my shirt. Her pulse is wild beneath my palm. I can feel it. Feel everything.
My wolf presses closer to the surface.
Say it. Claim her. Wake her.
Not yet.
Not when my house is warded but not sealed.
Not when half my company would feel the shift if I lost control.
Not when the pack doesn’t know who leads them.
Only my beta knows the truth.
Only him.
Years of planning. Years of restraint. An entire empire built so dominance could wear a human face. Hale & Crowe isn’t just a firm—it’s camouflage. Power disguised as professionalism. A pack hiding in plain sight.
And Grace is standing at the center of it, unaware that her very presence is testing every boundary I’ve ever drawn.
“I felt something,” she says softly. “Just for a second.”
My wolf lifts his head.
There.
I swallow. “What kind of something?”
She hesitates. That alone tells me everything.
“Like… pressure,” she says. “Not bad. Just—there. And then it was gone.”
Dormant.
Her wolf didn’t wake—but she brushed against the edge of it.
My grip tightens before I can stop it.
Mate, my wolf breathes.
She is late, but she is ours.
I force myself to loosen my hold, sliding my hand down her arm in a grounding gesture instead of the claiming one my instincts demand.
“You didn’t imagine it,” I say carefully. “But you didn’t miss anything either.”
She studies my face. Grace is observant. Always has been. It’s one of the reasons I noticed her before she ever noticed me.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”
Her gaze sharpens. “You’re holding something back.”
Yes.
Everything.
I lean my forehead against hers, just enough contact to steady us both. “If I tell you too much too fast, I don’t just risk scaring you. I risk putting you in danger.”
That lands.
Her body stills—not in fear, but in understanding.
“Someone watching you,” she says quietly.
I nod.
Marcus would’ve felt it if I’d lost control completely. A ripple through the pack. An instinctive recognition of dominance that’s been buried too long.
And if my beta felt it…
“You’re not safe just because you’re with me,” I say. “You’re safe because I’m choosing restraint.”
My wolf snarls at that.
Temporary, he reminds me.
Alphas do not restrain forever.
Grace exhales slowly. “Then we plan.”
That’s my girl.
GRACE
Something almost happened.
I know it did.
The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t even about wanting—though God, I wanted. It was like standing too close to a live wire. Like my body leaned toward something ancient and familiar before my mind could catch up.
And then—nothing.
The absence of it is what scares me.
Edward is watching me like he’s listening to something I can’t hear.
“You’re somewhere else,” I say.
His eyes refocus instantly. Too instantly.
“Habit,” he replies.
I don’t believe him.
We sit on the edge of the guest bed, knees touching, the room dim and quiet. His house feels different at night—less polished, more real. Like this is the version of him that doesn’t get worn in public.
“You said you were being watched,” I remind him. “Not followed. Watched.”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
That silence tells me more than a name would.
“Someone who already has access,” I guess. “Someone close.”
His jaw tightens.
“Someone patient,” he says. “Which makes them dangerous.”
A chill runs through me.
“And me?” I ask. “Where do I fit into that?”
His hand covers mine—warm, steady, grounding.
“You’re leverage,” he says honestly. “And that’s why I won’t let anyone know what you are to me.”
What I am to him.
The way he says it—careful, weighted—makes my chest ache.
I search his face. “You don’t talk like this unless you’re used to protecting people.”
“I don’t,” he says. “I talk like this because I failed once.”
That’s new.
Before I can ask, something shifts again—faint, like an echo of the feeling from before. My breath catches.
Edward freezes.
“You felt it,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper. “But it’s already gone.”
His eyes darken—not with frustration, but awe.
What are you not telling me?
He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with reverent restraint.
“Whatever that was,” he says quietly, “it isn’t ready yet.”
“And you?” I ask. “Are you?”
A dangerous smile curves his mouth.
“No.”
That should scare me.
Instead, heat coils low in my stomach.
I lean in first this time.
This kiss isn’t cautious. It’s intentional. I push the line because I need to know if I imagined the pull between us—or if it’s something real and alive.
Edward responds instantly.
His control doesn’t shatter—it folds.
He kisses me like he’s memorizing me, hands firm but restrained, like every movement is chosen instead of taken. My pulse spikes under his touch, and I swear for half a second—
Something inside me stirs.
A warmth. A recognition.
Then it vanishes again.
I gasp softly.
Edward pulls back, breathing hard, eyes glowing with something feral and terrified all at once.
“That,” he says hoarsely, “is exactly why we stop.”
I laugh shakily. “You don’t sound convincing.”
“I’m not,” he admits.
He rests his forehead against mine again, grounding us both.
“We keep you safe,” he says. “We figure out who’s watching. We move carefully.”
“And after that?” I ask.
His gaze locks onto mine.
“After that,” he says, voice low and absolute, “I stop pretending I don’t want you.”
My heart slams into my ribs.
I don’t know what I almost am.
I don’t know why something inside me keeps reaching for something just out of reach.
But I know this—
Whatever Edward is…
Whatever I am…
We’re already past the point of pretending this is normal.
And somewhere deep inside me, something ancient agrees.
- Writer
