CHAPTER 3 WHAT MORNING REVEALS
Eli woke to sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shafts, dust motes dancing in the beams like tiny stars.
For a beat, he was disoriented—his body felt heavy, sated in a way he couldn't immediately place.
The moss beneath him was soft, the air cool against his bare skin, and there was a weight across his chest that shouldn't be there.
Then he smelled it.
That scent. Sweet and spicy and utterly intoxicating, wrapped around him like a second skin. His own musk mingled with it, creating something entirely new, something that made his wolf rumble with deep satisfaction.
Eli opened his eyes and looked down.
Jace was sprawled across his chest, fully human now, sound asleep.
One arm was thrown over Eli's ribs, his face pressed against Eli's shoulder.
His dark hair was tousled, falling across his forehead in messy waves.
In sleep, he looked younger—less guarded, less deliberately provocative.
His lips were slightly parted, his breathing deep and even.
Beautiful.
The thought came unbidden, and with it, reality crashed down like an avalanche.
What the fuck did I do?
Cross-species. Territory violation. A cougar shifter from the western pride, sleeping naked in his arms in the middle of his territory. This broke every law, violated every boundary, shattered every rule that kept the territories stable and the species separate.
Eli's first instinct was to panic. To wake Jace up, demand he leave, pretend this never happened. To run—because that's what he did, wasn't it? When things got complicated, when the pack fell apart, when his brother's ambition tore everything to pieces, Eli ran.
But looking at Jace—genuinely peaceful in sleep, his body relaxed and trusting against Eli's—he couldn't make himself regret it.
His wolf didn't want to regret it. His wolf wanted to pull Jace closer, to mark him more thoroughly, to keep him here in this clearing until the rest of the world forgot they existed.
Eli carefully slid out from under Jace, moving with the practiced silence of a predator.
Jace mumbled something in his sleep, his hand reaching for where Eli had been, but he didn't wake.
Eli stood, his body protesting the movement—he was sore in places he'd forgotten could be sore, and the scratches Jace's claws had left on his back stung pleasantly.
He shifted to wolf form without thinking, the transformation automatic. His wolf needed to move, needed to think, needed to process what the hell had just happened.
Eli paced the clearing, his paws silent on the moss. The scent was everywhere—on the ground where they'd lain, in the air, on his fur. His territory smelled like Jace now. Everything was marked with their combined scent, and his wolf was pleased about it in a way that terrified him.
This was insane. This was dangerous. This was—
Right.
The word whispered through his mind, and Eli snarled at himself.
Nothing about this was right. Cross-species bonds were taboo for a reason.
They destabilized territories, created conflicts between groups, led to violence and bloodshed.
History was full of cautionary tales about wolves and cats who'd tried to bond, and none of them ended well.
But his body still smelled like Jace. His wolf still wanted him. And the memory of last night—Jace beneath him, amber eyes locked on his, that breathless "yes" that had given Eli permission to take what he wanted—made his cock twitch with renewed interest despite his anxiety.
When Jace woke, they needed to talk. Needed to figure out what the hell this was, what it meant, whether it could possibly continue or if last night had to be a one-time mistake they'd both pretend never happened.
But part of Eli—the part that had been alone for three years, the part that had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted—knew they wouldn't figure anything out.
They'd just do it again.
Two hours later, Eli was still pacing when Jace finally stirred.
Eli had shifted back to human form, pulled on his jeans but left his chest bare. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring into the forest, when he heard Jace's breathing change from the deep rhythm of sleep to the lighter pattern of waking.
"Morning," Jace said, voice unsteady with sleep but cheerful. Completely unbothered by his own nudity or by Eli's obvious internal conflict.
Eli turned to look at him. Jace was sitting up, stretching his arms over his head in a way that made every muscle in his torso flex. Sunlight caught on his skin, turning it golden. He looked utterly at ease, like waking up naked in a stranger's territory was the most natural thing in the world.
It pissed Eli off in the most complicated way.
"We need to talk," Eli said, more harshly than he'd intended.
Jace's smile was slow and knowing. "Good morning to you too." He stood, completely unselfconscious, and stretched again. "I'm guessing you've been spiraling for the last couple hours?"
"I haven't been—" Eli started, then stopped. "Yes. Fine. I've been spiraling."
"Thought so." Jace started walking toward the tree line, moving with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly where he was going. "Come on. I need water, and you need to stop pacing before you wear a hole in the moss."
"How do you know where the stream is?" Eli demanded, following despite himself.
Jace glanced back over his shoulder, his cat-bright eyes amused. "I told you. I've been watching your territory for weeks. I know where everything is."
The casual admission should have alarmed Eli. Instead, it just made him more aware of how thoroughly he'd been observed, how deliberately Jace had chosen to cross the boundary last night.
They walked in silence through the forest, Jace still naked and unbothered, Eli trying not to stare at the way sunlight played across his skin.
The hidden stream came into view—one of Eli's favorite spots, a place he'd thought was private, secret.
But of course Jace knew about it. Jace had been watching.
Jace waded into the water without hesitation, sighing with pleasure as the cool liquid closed around his legs. "God, that feels good." He kept going until the water reached his waist, then turned to face Eli. "So. Here's the thing."
Eli stayed on the bank, arms crossed over his chest. "What thing?"
"I can either explain why I was actually here," Jace said, floating on his back now, his body relaxed in the water, "or we can pretend last night was a one-time thing and I leave. Your choice."
Eli's chest tightened. "Which are you choosing?"
Jace's eyes met his, suddenly serious despite his casual posture. "I'm choosing to explain. And then I'm choosing to stay. If you'll have me. Just for today, maybe."
The compromise infuriated and relieved Eli in equal measure. Just for today. Not forever. Not even a promise of tomorrow. Just... today.
"Fine," Eli said. "Explain."
Jace stayed under the water for a moment, then surfaced, water streaming down his face. He pushed his wet hair back from his forehead and met Eli's gaze directly.
"My name's Jace," he said, as if they hadn't already exchanged names last night.
"Jace Naida. I'm from the western pride—my mother's the matriarch.
She sent me to scout your territory because she was concerned about having a lone wolf on the boundary.
Wanted to know if you were a threat, if you were planning to expand, if you were. .. stable."
Strategic information. Important information. The kind of intelligence that could affect territorial negotiations, resource allocation, the delicate balance between species.
But all Eli could focus on was: "You were watching me."
"For three weeks," Jace confirmed. He waded closer to the bank, close enough that Eli could see the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes.
"Wanted to see if the rumors were true—that you're as isolated as the stories say.
That you haven't had contact with another shifter in years. That you're..." He paused. "Alone."
Eli felt naked in a way that had nothing to do with his lack of shirt. "I am."
"You didn't look isolated last night," Jace said. "You looked like someone who hadn't been touched in a very long time. Like you were starving for it."
The words hit hard, cutting through Eli's defenses with surgical precision. He looked away, his jaw clenching. "So what now? You report back to your pride that you fucked the lone wolf? That he's desperate enough to violate territory law for a warm body?"
"Is that what you think happened?" Jace's voice was sharp now, the playfulness gone. "That I fucked you out of pity? Or as some kind of intelligence-gathering technique?"
"I don't know what to think," Eli admitted. "I don't know why you're here. I don't know what you want from me."
Jace was silent for a beat. Then: "Do you want me to report back that we fucked? Or do you want me to come back?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Eli's heart hammered against his ribs. If Jace reported what happened, it would complicate everything—territorial relations, pride politics, Eli's already tenuous position as a lone wolf. But if Jace came back...
If Jace came back, it meant this wasn't over. It meant they'd do this again. It meant Eli would have to face the fact that he wanted this, wanted Jace, more than he wanted the safety of his isolation.
"I want..." Eli started, then stopped. His throat felt tight. "I want you to come back."
Jace's smile was slow and genuine, transforming his face. "Good. Because I was coming back either way. I just wanted to know if you'd admit you wanted it."
Despite everything—the anxiety, the complications, the sheer insanity of this situation—Eli huffed a laugh. "You're infuriating."
"I've been told." Jace waded deeper into the water, until it reached his chest. "Now are you going to stand there brooding, or are you going to join me?"