Page 24 of Warded By His Wolf

Ivy stirred against my shoulder. Her hand shifted on my chest, and through the bond I felt the texture of her surfacing from sleep, not disoriented. Warm. Coming up out of rest like she trusted where she’d land.

“Maddox.” My name, rough with sleep. It did the same thing to me it had done the first time.

“Here.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past eight. Storm’s still burying us.”

She tilted her head up. The coals threw low orange light across her face, and she was not beautiful in the way that stops conversations. She was beautiful in the way that stopped me, present, unguarded, entirely herself.

“You haven’t slept.”

“No.”

Her hand came up to my jaw, thumb tracing the stubble. Through the bond I felt her concern threading beneath a new awareness that wasn’t quite mine and wasn’t quite hers. “You have to sleep sometime.”

“Not tonight.” I turned my head and pressed my mouth to her palm, because I could now. Because she’d said yes to that too.

Her eyes moved to the window, then back. “The sensor. The one that pinged.”

“Four a.m. East perimeter. One contact, patient movement, confirming, not approaching. He verified position and withdrew.” I gave her the truth whole, the way I’d promised myself I would. “He knows where we are. He knows the count is two. He’s waiting for his window, and the storm is part of his math.”

She was quiet, processing, not fear, through the bond, but that focused attention I’d fallen for before I had permission to. Then:

“So we’re sealed in with him outside, and everyone who could reach us can’t.”

“Yes.”

“And if he doesn’t wait?”

I looked at her (my flannel shirt open over her tank top, the silver mark at her shoulder catching the firelight) and let her hear the absolute floor of it.

“Then he meets what’s waiting for him.”

Through the bond, her response wasn’t anxiety. It was recognition.

“Your wolf.”

“Yes.”

“You’d shift. If he came through the door.”

“If he got past the door, I’d already be shifted.” I held her gaze. “He’s not getting past the door, Ivy.”

She studied me for a long moment. Then, with the directness I loved: “Show me.”

I went still.

“I saw Jace shift. I haven’t seen you.” She tilted her head. “I want to see what’s protecting me. I want to know what I chose.”

My wolf surged so fast I tasted copper. I held him, barely. “If I shift right now, with the bond this new, “ I stopped, and then gave her the honesty even though it cost me. “My control isn’t what it usually is. The bond makes it harder. You make it harder. If I let the wolf out while I’m this newly claimed, I don’t know exactly what he does.”

Warm curiosity through the bond, not alarm. “What do you think he does?”

“He doesn’t leave your side. He puts himself between you and every exit. He puts his head in your lap and refuses to move until you touch him.”

She smiled, small and real, and it landed under my sternum like a second mark.