Selena.
The moment Denver opened his door and stepped aside, something inside me shifted. It wasn’t desire, not yet—it was calmness. Something quiet, unspoken, and entirely his.
I stepped into his room slowly, letting my eyes take him in. I’d seen countless rooms in the pack house, each impressive in its own way, but none felt like this. I had expected dark authority, imposing dominance. Instead, his space radiated warmth and intention.
Soft amber light kissed the walls, highlighting canvases that seemed to hold meaning beyond mere decoration. One painting in particular caught my eye: a lone wolf perched on a cliff beneath a silver sky, strong yet solitary. I wondered if he saw himself there.
I let my fingers trail across the carved edge of a dresser, tracing the smooth oak. I realize
