LOGAN
The soft light of dawn bled into our bedroom, brushing over Nora’s bare skin like a lover’s caress. She lay curled into my chest, her fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt, her breath steady, warm against my neck. I hadn’t slept much. Not because of her, but because of something I couldn’t name.
I listened to the rhythm of her heart. It calmed me. Grounded me.
But my wolf stirred.
Restless. Pacing. Watching.
Something wasn’t right.
My arm tightened around her. I pressed a kiss to her temple.
Nora hummed sleepily, shifting slightly. Her lips brushed against the base of my throat. “You’re thinking again,” she mumbled, her voice raspy with sleep.
“I always think,” I whispered back, running my hand down her spine.
“Too much,” she teased, eyes still closed.
“I can’t help it.
