Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The silence hit Lily the moment Gray's footsteps faded on the stairs. She stood frozen at the window, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever part of her spell had gotten her this far.
He’d never asked what she was. Which probably meant he’d figured it out and had not thrown her out.
Instead, she had a room, a job, and a chance.
Now she just had to find a way to not screw it up.
The space was small but surprisingly nice.
A small bed with quality linens that looked softer than expected, a dresser that was made of real wood with ample space, and a window overlooking a field of apple trees with a lock that actually worked.
The room was far nicer than she'd expected for employee housing.
Either Gray Moore took exceptional care of his employees, or... No, she was too tired to be suspicious of kindness. For the first time in weeks, she wasn't calculating the distance to her car or how long it would take her to get to it.
Lily closed the door and turned the deadbolt, the click echoing loudly in the quiet room. Her hands shook as she pressed her back against the wood, finally allowing the terror she'd been swallowing for miles to surface.
She'd made it. Somehow, impossibly, she'd made it.
Her regular ritual in every new space came next.
There were some habits that would be hard to break after weeks of running.
She double-checked the window and made sure it was latched.
Then she began tracing protective sigils around the door frame that warded them from outsiders.
Finally, she took her remaining herbs and scattered them strategically around the room, finishing with the blessed salt across the threshold.
Nothing more than basic magic, but it would have to do. She was running on fumes.
She peeled her bag from her shoulder and began to unpack it.
Her backpack held everything she owned now.
Three changes of clothes, wrinkled and road worn.
A paperback novel with half the pages dog-eared.
Her grandmother's silver pendant, the only thing of value she hadn't sold. And her magic journal that held every spell she’d ever cast and all the hard-earned lessons from her grandmother, including the brewing experiments they’d worked together. All documented in her careful script.
As she unpacked, her mind kept circling back to Gray Moore.
Wolf. She was certain now. The scent markers were all there once she knew what to look for. It marked him as territory and pack and predator all wrapped up in a gorgeous muscular package with mesmerizing amber eyes that seemed to strip away her carefully crafted lies.
And yet, he’d hired her anyway.
Her instincts were buzzing. The man was trouble in ways that had nothing to do with fangs and claws.
When their fingers had brushed during the resume handoff, a flash of heat shot straight to her core.
And the way he'd looked at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to solve with his hands, still unnerved her.
Her magic had sung in his presence, responding to something wild and magnetic that made her pulse race and her body ache with want she couldn't afford to feel. Although the surge of power was an unexpected bonus.
She was folding her last shirt into the chest of drawers when the knock came.
Lily's heart slammed against her ribs. Through the wood, the scent of pine and wood smoke hit her senses, followed by that something wild that made heat pool low in her belly.
Gray.
She opened the door to find him filling the narrow doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He had at least six inches on her, maybe more.
He'd changed from work clothes into dark jeans and a warm brown sweater that stretched across his broad chest. In his hands, he held a covered container and what looked like a thick stack of paperwork.
"Don't tell me you're the welcoming committee too," she said, aiming for lightness despite her pulse hammering.
"Someone has to make sure you don't starve to death on your first night." His eyes swept over her face, cataloging details with predatory intensity. "I can't have employees dying of malnutrition. Bad for business."
She was about to protest when the delicious scent of homemade food hit her.
Some kind of soup, she guessed, and fresh bread for sure.
Her hunger from earlier roared to life, and her empty stomach cramped with sudden need.
When was the last time she'd eaten anything that hadn't come from a vending machine or a roadside gas station?
"How thoughtful. Making sure I'm fit for hard labor. Perfect," she said with a grin. As she reached for the container, she tried to ignore the way his watchful eyes tracked the movement, or how grateful she was that he’d thought of feeding her.
Their fingers brushed again, and electricity shot up her arm, this time stronger than the last. From the way his pupils dilated, she guessed he felt it too. He also didn't pull away immediately.
"You're not allergic to anything that might kill you on my watch, are you?" he asked, his voice rougher than before.
"Worried about liability? Good thing I'm harder to kill than I look."
"That remains to be seen." His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back up. "You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over."
Heat flared in her chest the more he studied her. "I've survived this long without any protection."
"Barely, from the look of things." He stepped closer, using his height to crowd her space. Not threatening, but... something. "When's the last time you had a decent meal? Or a full night's sleep?"
"I'm fine." The lie came automatically.
"Sure you are. That's why you're swaying on your feet." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Eat the soup before you pass out. I don't feel like carrying you down three flights of stairs," he grumbled.
"You’re such a gentleman." But she couldn't quite hide her smile. There was something about his gruff concern that warmed places inside her that had been cold for a really long time.
He handed her the paperwork—orientation materials and underneath, a slim leather manual with worn edges and handwritten notes crowding the margins. This looked personal. Intimate even.
"Breakfast is at five sharp," he said, but his eyes never left her face. "Don't be late."
"I'm never late,” she said quickly.
"We'll see about that." His mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. "Coffee's available twenty-four hours. If that’s your thing too."
"Are you always this charming with your employees?"
"Only the ones who show up on my doorstep with a questionable employment history and desperation in their eyes." The words should have been harsh, but his tone held something almost... protective.
Lily's breath caught. "I told you—"
"You told me a lot of things. Doesn't mean I believe them." He leaned against the doorframe, studying her with those unnerving eyes. "But you know what you're doing with brewing. That much isn't bullshit. And that’s all that matters right now."
"Thanks for the ringing endorsement."
"Don't let it go to your head." But there was heat in his gaze now, something that had nothing to do with suspicion and everything to do with the magnetic pull crackling between them.
"Is there anything else, or are you just planning to lurk in my doorway all evening?"
"Depends. You planning to run off in the middle of the night?"
The question hit closer to home than she cared to admit. "Where would I go? I just got here."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting." She lifted her chin, meeting his stare. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to antagonize her new boss. She sighed. "I need this job, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
Something shifted in his expression, approval, maybe, or respect. "Good. Because the island doesn't like runners."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She didn’t have the energy to read between the lines of whatever he was throwing out at her.
"You'll figure it out." He straightened, filling the doorway again with his imposing presence. "Hot water's reliable in the shower down the hall. Towels are in the cabinet."
The way he said it made heat spiral through her belly, images flashing unbidden of steam and hot water and the possibility of running into him in nothing but a towel.
"Anything else I should know about the accommodations?"
His eyes darkened. "The walls are thin. Sound carries."
The comment sent fire racing through her veins. Was he warning her, or promising something?
"I'll keep that in mind," she managed, voice steadier than she felt.
"See that you do." He pushed off from the doorframe but didn't move away. If anything, he seemed closer now, his scent wrapping around her like a physical presence. "Lily."
Her name from him sounded like a growl, and she fought the urge to step closer.
"Yes?"
"Devils Point can be... intense. Especially for our kind." His gaze pinned her in place, those sexy eyes holding secrets she wanted to uncover. "Things happen here that don't happen in other places."
"What kind of things?"
"The kind you're not ready to hear about yet." His smile was all teeth and no humor. "But you will be."
"Is that a threat?" A tingle raced down her spine, blooming hot against her skin.
"It's a promise." He stepped back finally, giving her room to breathe. "If you need anything—and I mean anything, day or night, I'm right downstairs. Don't hesitate to come find me."
"Why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. "Why help me when you clearly don't trust me?"
Gray was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching her face. "Maybe I see something worth protecting."
Before she could process that loaded statement, he was gone, his footsteps echoing on the stairs.
Our kind. He’d said our kind.