I adjusted her in my arms, the weight of her body a perfect fit against my chest. Not heavy—never heavy—just warm, soft, and heartbreakingly vulnerable. She had fallen asleep straddling me, her fingers still tangled in the fabric of my shirt, her head tucked beneath my chin like it belonged there. Like she trusted me.
But she shouldn’t.
I wasn’t worthy of it. Not yet.
My steps were slow as I carried her through the hallway, each one echoing with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t. The packhouse was silent, bathed in the soft gold of early morning light. Penelope breathed softly against me, lashes fluttering as she slipped deeper into sleep.
Look at her, Damon growled in my mind, voice laced with disappointment. You made our mate cry. Again.
I clenched my jaw. “I didn’t mean to.”
