The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze of warmth, blankets, food, and a kind of safety I did not realize I had been starving for. I pretend to read. Nathan pretends to relax. Neither of us does a great job.
Because Nathan watches me.
All day.
Every time I shift a little on the couch, he watches. Every time I reach for water, he watches. If I stretch my arm, twist my wrist, tuck a curl behind my ear, he tracks the movement like his life depends on it. His wolf hums under his skin, restless and hungry in a way that has nothing to do with food. It feels like he is making sure I do not vanish. Like looking away from me for three seconds might undo the fact that we made it out alive.
Finally, I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop staring like you want to bite something you cannot.”
His jaw fl
