Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Gray stared at the ceiling of his apartment, every muscle coiled tight with frustration.
He could still taste her on his lips, feel the phantom heat of her body pressed against his on that counter.
Sleep wasn't happening. His wolf paced like a caged animal, demanding he go to her, claim her, end this torture.
But she'd asked for time. Time to figure out how to tell him the truth without bringing her coven down on their heads.
Fuck time.
He rolled out of bed and stalked to the window. Below, the distillery sat dark and quiet, but he could smell her scent drifting through the building's bones. Lavender and earth and that wild magic that made his cock ache every time he breathed.
At least one problem had solved itself. He hadn't seen that black cat since the night Lily dared him to say something about it. The thing had probably come to its senses and fled the island.
His reflection in the glass looked like hell—stubble darker than usual, eyes edged with bright gold that meant his wolf was too close to the surface. Normally, this would be the time for a run. But that’s not what his wolf wanted.
The mate bond pulled at his chest like a fishhook, demanding he go to her. Take her. Make her understand that running wasn't an option.
Control. She needs you to have control.
The rational thought barely registered over his wolf's snarling demand for satisfaction.
By 4 AM, he'd given up pretending he could rest. He dressed and pulled out his phone, thumbs hovering over the screen before he typed out a message to the Business Council group chat.
Taking over direct supervision of the new hire. Security concerns require closer monitoring.
The reply from Damien came almost immediately. At 4 AM you're thinking about work assignments? Sure, Gray. Whatever you say.
Gray ignored the Alpha's knowing tone and pocketed his phone. Let them think what they wanted. He had legitimate reasons for keeping Lily close—her magic, the security risk, the witches hunting her.
The fact that his wolf would rip apart anyone else who got too close to her was just... practical pack management.
He headed down to the distillery, the jangling of his keys harsh in the pre-dawn quiet. If he was going to be awake, he might as well work.
Except work was impossible when her scent saturated every inch of the space. When he could still see her pressed against the counter, green eyes wide with recognition as their mate bond sparked. His cock got hard just remembering the taste of her mouth.
You're fucked, Moore.
"Boss?" Ryker pushed through the door, stopping short when he saw Gray's expression. "You look like you want to murder someone."
He ignored the jab. "Just checking the fermentation schedule." Gray's voice came out in a half growl. "We're behind."
"Right." Ryker kept his distance, nostrils flaring. "Rough night?"
Gray shot him a look that could strip fur from a wolf’s backside. Ryker raised his hands and backed toward the door.
"I'll just... go check the delivery schedule."
Alone again, Gray tried to focus on the schedule, but his attention kept drifting to the stairwell. She'd be down in forty-three minutes. He'd already memorized her timing—4:52 exactly, eight minutes early like clockwork.
The thought of working beside her all day while his wolf demanded he bend her over the nearest fermentation tank, made his jaw clench.
This was impossible. He couldn't work with other pack members supervising her. The idea of anyone else breathing her scent made his vision edge with red. But he also couldn't keep fighting this pull every time she was near.
Which is exactly why he’d chosen to supervise her himself. No other pack members, no excuses about training or team integration. Just him and her and the pretense that this was about brewery operations instead of his wolf's territorial obsession.
Pathetic. But necessary.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. His entire body went alert, wolf surging forward as her scent hit him. Lily appeared in the doorway looking cautious, auburn hair caught in its usual braid, wearing jeans that made his mouth water and his hands itch to explore.
"Morning," she said carefully, reading his mood in the way he stood too still, too controlled.
"We're changing the arrangement." No preamble. No small talk. He was strung too tight for pleasantries.
Her shoulders tensed. "Are you—"
"I'm the only one who will be supervising you from now on. No other team members. Just us."
Relief flickered across her face before she could hide it. "But the training schedule has me rotating to other areas— Why?"
Because my wolf will rip the throat out of any male who gets too close to you right now. And because your scent drives me insane and I need to know exactly where you are every second. If I can't have you under me, at least I can keep you close.
By a miracle, he’d managed not to voice his thoughts out loud and send her running off the island.
"Security." He moved closer, noting how her pulse quickened when he invaded her space. "Your magic affects our product in ways we don't understand. I need to monitor that personally."
"Oh… Of course." But there was something pleased in her voice, and it sounded dangerously like anticipation. "That makes sense."
It actually made no sense. It was the desperate move of a wolf losing his mind over a female he couldn't have. But if she wanted to pretend this was about the job, he'd let her.
"Let's get to work."
They fell into their routine, but everything felt charged now. Every time she reached for equipment, he was hyperaware of the graceful movement of her hands. When she leaned over the fermentation tank, he caught himself staring at the curve of her ass, imagining gripping her hips while he—
"The mash temperature's perfect," she said, and he realized he'd been standing there like an idiot, watching her work instead of doing his own job.
"Good." His voice came out harsh. "Stay on top of it."
She shot him a look. "You're grumpier than usual this morning."
"I'm fine."
"You're glowering at the thermometer like it personally offended you."
Gray forced himself to move, to check readings and adjust valves, but his attention kept drifting back to her.
The way her shoulders relaxed when she found her rhythm.
How she bit her lower lip when concentrating on making measurements precise.
The careful grace in every movement, like brewing was a dance she'd been born knowing.
"You're staring," she said without looking up from the hop additions.
"I'm supervising."
"Is that what we're calling it?" There was amusement in her voice now, the first lightness he'd heard from her since his gruff mood had settled over the morning like a storm cloud.
Gray felt heat rise in his chest, part irritation, part something warmer. "You have a problem with my supervision methods?"
"Not a problem, exactly." She glanced up at him, green eyes sparkling with mischief that made his wolf perk up with interest. "But I've never had a supervisor who looked like he wanted to devour me while I worked."
The smile that spread across her face was radiant. Pure sunshine that made his chest tight and his wolf rumble with satisfaction. When was the last time such a simple gesture from him had made someone that happy?
They worked through the morning, and despite his weird mood, Gray settled into the rhythm of their partnership.
"You're good at this," he said, watching her test the specific gravity with practiced competence.
"Thank you." Her voice was soft, pleased. "I enjoy working with you too. Even when you're being a grumpy ass."
The casual affection in her tone did something to his insides.
"I'm not grumpy."
"You've been scowling since I walked in. You snapped at Ryker, and you're gripping that clipboard like you want to strangle it." She paused in her stirring to look at him. "So, what's wrong?"
Everything. You. This pull between us that's driving me insane. The fact that all I can think about is bending you over this tank and finding out if you taste as good as you smell.
"Nothing's wrong,” he said, keeping all his other thoughts firmly locked in his mind.
"Gray." She set down her spoon and faced him fully. "You can tell me. Whatever it is."
The genuine concern in her voice nearly broke him. She was worried about his mood when she was the one running from a coven that wanted to steal her magic. When she was the one carrying secrets that made her check locks obsessively and carry protection herbs like talismans.
"It's nothing you need to worry about."
"But it's something I can worry about?"
The distinction caught him off-guard. "What?"
"You said I don't need to worry about it. That implies there's something to worry about, but that I'm not allowed to." She stepped closer, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. "I'd like to worry about you, if you'll let me."
The simple offer gutted him. When was the last time someone had wanted to worry about him? To share his burdens instead of adding to them?
"Lily," he started.
"Is it me? Did I do something wrong?" Her eyes were suddenly wide and she nervously bit at her lip.
You walked into my life and turned everything upside down. Made me want things I can't have. You made me remember what it feels like to be alive instead of just surviving.
Again, he swallowed down the words he had to hold back. "You did nothing wrong."
"Then what?"
He stared at her upturned face, at the genuine concern written in every line of her expression, and something cracked inside his chest. She wanted to know. Actually wanted to help carry whatever was eating at him.
"I didn't sleep last night," he admitted.
"Because of our conversation?"
He wasn’t ready to tell her it was because of the way she felt in his arms. Or that his wolf was demanding a claim right now that he didn’t know how much longer he could fight.
"Partly."