The cabin is a symphony of ancient wood settling and the rhythmic, heavy thrum of the forest outside. The moon has climbed higher, casting a silver bar of light across the loft that cuts right through the pathetic wall of pillows Silas built. It is a border made of fluff and false promises, and I am currently staring at it with wide-eyed intensity.
Silas is on his back, his breathing deep and steady, but I know him. He isn't asleep. An Alpha doesn't sleep when his mate is inches away, smelling like rain and heat and the very specific scent of trouble. He is a statue of bronze muscle, his bare chest rising and falling in a way that makes my own lungs feel tight.
I shift, just a fraction. The mattress creaks, a loud betrayal in the quiet room. Silas doesn't move, but I see the way his puls
