Chapter 11
GRAYSON
Rain hammers my shoulders as I leave Isla's cottage, but the storm isn't what makes my bear push against my skin. Something prowls the darkness beyond her walls, and every instinct I possess screams to go back inside and stand guard until dawn.
I pull out my phone and text Declan:
Someone followed us. Ocean reacted. Non-human. Need backup at Isla's cottage now.
His response comes within seconds:
Jax on his way. You track the scent.
Good. Jax will keep her safe while I figure out what the hell we're dealing with.
I follow the scent the prowler left behind, tracking it through rain-slicked streets.
Not human. One of Carrick's contacts, maybe, or something else drawn to her awakening power.
The trail leads toward the harbor and then vanishes at the water's edge.
Smart enough to cover their tracks. Whoever this is knows what they're doing.
I photograph the location, the angle of approach, everything that might help us identify what came hunting.
By the time I circle back toward Isla's cottage, Jax has taken up position in the shadows across from her door, a silent sentinel that nothing will get past.
I exchange a brief nod with Jax before heading toward the abbey.
Declan will want a full report, and we need to coordinate patrols before whatever this is makes another move.
The walk gives me time to replay the evening in my head, looking for details I might have missed.
The way the ocean responded to Isla's presence.
The sudden retreat of whoever was stalking her.
The complete disappearance of their scent at the water's edge.
The abbey's windows glow warm through the darkness when I arrive. Inside, the brotherhood has gathered again. Declan stands near the fireplace with Eliza at his side. Rafe and Moira occupy the sofa. Finn watches from his chair by the window. Kian sprawls in a corner, deceptively relaxed.
"Someone followed us from the council chambers.
" I close the door behind me and shake rain from my hair.
"Stayed in the shadows, careful to avoid detection.
When we reached Isla's cottage, the ocean erupted.
Water rose in a wall of warning, glowing with selkie magic.
Whoever was out there retreated, but their scent disappeared at the harbor. "
"Supernatural, then." Rafe's tone is flat. "Human scents don't just vanish."
"Exactly." I move closer to the fire, but the warmth does nothing to ease the cold knot in my gut. "Which means Carrick's brought in outside help, or Isla's awakening is drawing attention from things we haven't accounted for."
"The pendant protects her." Moira's voice carries certainty. "But protection only goes so far if she doesn't understand what she is or what she can do."
"She's learning." My voice is harsher than the question warrants. "But she's not ready to face whatever Carrick might send against her."
"Then we make sure she doesn't have to." Declan's declaration settles over the room like a physical weight. "Rotating patrols around her cottage. No one approaches without us knowing. And someone needs to accelerate her training before the council votes and this situation escalates."
"I'll handle the training." The offer leaves my mouth before I fully consider the implications.
Spending more time alone with Isla, teaching her to access powers that are already pulling me toward her with magnetic insistence, sounds like the worst possible idea.
But the alternative is letting someone else get that close to her, and my bear rejects that option with violent certainty.
"Good." Declan's attention pins me in place. "Keep her safe, Grayson. Whatever it takes."
The meeting drags on for another hour as we coordinate patrol schedules and contingency plans.
By the time I leave, the rain has stopped and the clouds have begun to break apart, revealing stars between the gaps.
The wind carries the scent of salt and seaweed, familiar rhythms that usually soothe my beast. Tonight they do nothing to calm the restless energy coiling through my muscles.
I should return to the tower and get some sleep before dawn patrol.
Instead I find myself walking back toward Isla's cottage, following stone paths made slick by rain.
Lamplight glows through her windows, and I can see her shadow moving inside.
She's still awake despite the late hour, still processing everything that happened tonight.
The prowler's scent is gone, washed away by rain or deliberately obscured.
Either option leaves me unsettled. I complete a full circuit around her cottage, checking windows and testing door locks with the paranoia of someone who has spent lifetimes guarding what matters.
Everything is secure, and Jax remains in position in the shadows near the cliff path, a solid presence that should ease my mind.
It doesn't. My bear still wants to break down her door and plant myself between her and anything that might threaten her.
Jax catches my eye and raises an eyebrow, reading the conflict on my face. I shake my head and force myself to turn away before I do something stupid like relieve him of guard duty just so I can stand watch myself.
The walk back to the tower takes longer than it should, my thoughts circling around the memory of Isla's voice calling my bear beautiful and the way her scent wrapped around me in the confined space of her cottage.
Lavender and something wilder underneath, like storm-tossed waves and the promise of deeper water.
My bear insists she's mine with possessive hunger that makes him surge beneath my skin. She's ours to protect, ours to claim.
Not that simple. Nothing about Isla is simple.
She's a scientist discovering magic exists, a selkie learning what her heritage means, a woman caught between worlds she never knew existed.
Adding the weight of a bear's claim to that burden feels selfish, no matter how much every instinct I possess demands I make her mine.
The tower rises dark against the night sky when I finally reach home.
Stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and salt spray, foundations deep enough to withstand anything the ocean throws at them.
My family has lived here for centuries, each guardian taking up residence in the upper chamber where we can watch the protected waters and respond to threats before they reach vulnerable shores.
Solitude has never bothered me before. Tonight it feels like a cage.
I'm halfway through stripping off wet clothes when my phone buzzes. Jax:
She insists on returning something. Walking her to the tower now.
Before I can respond, someone knocks on the heavy wooden door. The sound echoes through empty rooms, and my bear surges forward with anticipation rather than aggression this time.
When I wrench the door open, Isla stands on the threshold with the borrowed charts clutched in her hands and rain-dampened hair curling around her face. Behind her, Jax gives me a look that clearly says 'I tried to talk her out of it' before melting back into the shadows to resume his patrol.
"I came to return these." Her voice is steady, but her pupils are dilated and her pulse hammers visibly in her throat. "Didn't want to forget in the morning."
We both know that's a lie. The charts could have waited until morning, could have been returned any time in the next week.
She came here in the middle of the night for reasons that have nothing to do with diving charts and everything to do with the hunger that has been building between us since the moment we met.
"Come in." I step back to let her pass, hyperaware of how small the tower's entrance suddenly feels with both of us occupying the same space. I close the door behind her and throw the bolt.
She sets the charts down carefully on the table, movements deliberate and controlled. When she straightens, our eyes meet and something ignites in the charged air between us. All the restraint I've been exercising, all the careful distance I've been maintaining, burns away in the heat of her stare.
"You shouldn't be here." My voice is low, dangerous. "Not tonight. Not after everything that happened."
"I know." She takes a step closer instead of retreating. "But I couldn't stay in that cottage alone, listening to footsteps that might or might not be real, wondering if something is going to try breaking through my windows."
"The patrols won't let anything through."
"That's not why I'm here." Another step brings her close enough that I can smell lavender and wild water. "You know it's not."
Yes. I know exactly why she's here, and it has nothing to do with safety or returned charts. The same reason my bear is demanding I close the distance between us and claim what he insists already belongs to us.
"Isla." Her name is a growl and a warning. "If you stay, I'm not going to be gentle."
"Good." The word comes out breathless. "I don't want gentle."
The last thread of my control snaps.
I close the distance between us in two strides, one hand fisting in her hair while the other grips her hip hard enough to leave marks.
Her mouth opens under mine with a gasp that turns into a moan when I bite her lower lip.
Raw need and days of denied hunger pour into the kiss, demanding and desperate.
She tastes like salt water and something sweeter underneath, addictive in ways that make my bear roar with possessive triumph. I walk her backward until her spine meets the wall, and she arches into me with a sound that goes straight to my cock.