Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
WYATT
Later—much later—they lay wrapped in the blanket he’d retrieved from downstairs, watching the first hints of pink color the eastern horizon.
Narla traced idle patterns on his chest. Her touch was light, exploratory—mapping the territory of him with the curiosity of a new discoverer.
“My panther took one look at you and tried to tear free.” His chest vibrated with quiet laughter. “I’d never felt anything like it.”
“And you kept it caged for all that time.”
“I convinced myself I was wrong about it.” His arms tightened around her. “That the attraction was irrelevant. That you were hiding danger.”
“You were right about some of it.”
“Something that was done to you. Not something you’d done.” The distinction mattered. “I was looking for reasons to keep my distance. Easier to distrust you than to admit what you made me feel.”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “What do I make you feel?”
Everything. The word rose in his throat. Everything I’ve spent my whole adult life avoiding.
“Terrified,” he admitted. “Like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t come back from.”
“Is that bad?”
“No.” The certainty surprised him. “It’s just—new. I don’t know how to be someone who has things worth losing.”
“You learn.” Her hand traced his jaw. “Same as anything else. You show up, day after day, even when it’s hard.”
“Sounds like work.”
“The best things usually are.”
He pulled her down for another kiss, slower this time. When they broke apart, he tucked her against his side and let his gaze drift to the stars fading into dawn.
“We’re going to have more than stolen moments.” His voice was quiet. “We’re going to have everything. Morning coffee. Arguments about closet space. Ember hooting judgment from his perch for the next thirty years.”
Her laugh vibrated against his skin. “You’re that confident?”
“I’m that determined.” His mouth found her hair. “You and me, Narla. Whatever comes.”
“You can’t control everything.”
“Watch me try.”
She raised her head, studied his face. Whatever she saw there made her expression soften. “You’re impossible.”
“I prefer ‘determined.’”
“Stubborn.”
“Thorough.”
“Obsessive.”
“Devoted.” He caught her chin, kissed her softly. “You’re mine, Narla. And I protect what’s mine.”
The words carried more than he intended. A vow. A promise.
“I’m not some helpless damsel who needs protecting.” But she was smiling as she said it. “I’ve managed on my own. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I know you do.” He pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin.
“But you don’t have to carry it without backup anymore.
That’s what I’m trying to say. Whatever comes—Derren, the surge, whatever chaos Haven Shores throws at us next—we face it together.
” His hand traced lazy patterns on her back.
“My panther has decided you’re ours. There’s no going back from that. ”
“What about the human part of you? What has he decided?”
Wyatt was quiet for a moment, considering the question. The honest answer was complicated—a lifetime of carefully constructed walls didn’t crumble overnight. But some truths were worth saying, even when they were hard.
“The human part of me spent a long time trying to convince the panther he was wrong. That you couldn’t be trusted. That the pull between us was just… chemistry. Circumstance.” He let his lips brush her hair. “I was an idiot.”
“Was?”
“Am. Still am, probably.” His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “But I’m trying to be less of one. For you.”
She settled back against his chest, her breathing evening out as the sky lightened. Through the glass walls, he could see the first hints of pink on the eastern horizon. Dawn was coming.
Wyatt stayed awake longer, watching the stars fade. Somewhere out there, Derren was waiting. The monster had been in Haven Shores for weeks, studying them, cataloguing their weaknesses.
They couldn’t know when he would make his move. Couldn’t predict where or how. The not knowing was its own kind of torture—the constant vigilance, the way every shadow could hide a threat.
She shifted against him, murmured something unintelligible, and settled deeper into sleep. So trusting. So vulnerable in this moment, her walls down, her defenses lowered. She’d given him that. After everything she’d been through, she’d chosen to trust him with her safety.
He wouldn’t fail her.
He let his lips brush Narla’s hair one more time and let himself drift, the warmth of his mate anchoring him to what he’d never expected to find.