Chapter 9 #2
She nodded slowly. "I didn't sleep much either. Too much to think about."
"Lily—"
The door burst open, cutting off whatever confession had been about to spill from his lips. Shaw from the morning shift poked his head in, took one look at Gray's thunderous expression, and wisely stayed in the doorway.
"Sorry, boss. Just checking the festival order schedule."
"It's on the board," Gray clipped.
"Right, thanks." Shaw disappeared, but the moment was broken.
They returned to work, but charged awareness replaced the easy flow. Every accidental brush of fingers sent energy rushing up Gray's arm. When Lily bent to check the lower valve, her shirt pulled tight across her breasts, and he had to grip the counter to keep from reaching for her.
By afternoon, his control was shredded.
"I need to check the storage room," he said abruptly, needing distance before he did something irreversibly stupid.
"I'll come with you. Help carry—"
"No." The word came out sharper than he intended. "Stay here. Finish the hop schedule."
Hurt flickered across her face before she hid it. "Of course. I'll just... finish up here."
Gray cursed himself as he stalked toward the storage room. She'd only been trying to help, and he'd snapped at her like a rabid animal. But being alone with her in a confined space when his wolf was already on edge would be a disaster.
He made it to the storage room and slammed the door behind him, breathing hard. Surrounded by the scents of ordinary grain and hops, he tried to get his head together. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some adolescent ruled by his hormones.
But when he returned to the brewing floor twenty minutes later, the sight of Lily efficiently managing three different processes made his chest ache with something deeper than desire.
She looked up when he entered, offering a tentative smile. "Everything is on schedule. The afternoon batch should be ready for transfer in about an hour."
"Good." He wanted to apologize for snapping at her, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he busied himself checking readings she'd already perfected.
They finished the day's work in relative silence, the easy partnership from the morning replaced by careful politeness that felt like fragile glass between them. When the last worker left, Lily began her closing routine, movements efficient but subdued.
"Lily."
She looked up from wiping down the equipment. "Yes?"
I'm sorry. I'm an ass. I want you so badly I can barely function, and it's making me cruel.
"Good work today." She blushed at his praise and he wanted to kick himself for giving her such a hard time. Not to mention all of his completely inappropriate thoughts all day.
"Thank you. It means a lot that you trust me to still work here." She hung up the cleaning rag, then hesitated. "But… What I said this morning, about worrying about you..."
"Yeah?"
"It goes both ways. You're not the only one losing sleep." She took a shaky breath. "Yesterday you guessed it was my coven. You were right. But it's not just... it's not one or two sisters who disagreed with me. It's all of them. Thirteen witches, and they're all hunting me."
Gray went perfectly still. "Thirteen." He may not know much about witches, but he damned sure understood that number had power among them.
"They don't forgive. They don't forget. And they don't stop." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I broke something sacred when I ran. That makes me a threat they can't ignore."
The weight of that number, thirteen high powered witches, made his wolf pace with violent energy.
"I need to keep working on those protection spells tonight. The ones I promised you." She headed for the stairs, pausing at the doorway. "It might get... intense. Upstairs. Barrier magic isn't quiet work. Just so you know."
She disappeared up the stairs, leaving him with the scent of old terror and the crushing reality of what she was facing alone.
He finished his closing routine on autopilot, but his apartment felt like a cage when he finally climbed the stairs.
Her scent was everywhere now, seeping through the floors, wrapping around him like a living thing.
He heard her moving around the apartment, soft footsteps and the distant sound of running water.
A shower.
The thought of her naked, water sluicing over pale skin and copper hair, was the final straw. Gray headed for his own bathroom, stripping off clothes that reeked of her scent and his own frustrated need.
Under the spray of hot water, he braced one hand against the tile and wrapped the other around his aching cock.
Days of watching her work with those graceful hands, of breathing her scent, of fighting the pull that demanded he claim her. His wolf was past patience, past restraint.
He stroked himself roughly, imagining it was her hand instead of his own. In his mind, she was here with him, pressed against the shower wall with her legs wrapped around his waist. Water streaming over her breasts while he drove into her wet heat, her cries echoing off the tiles.
"Gray," she'd gasp, nails scoring his shoulders as he set a brutal pace. "Please don't stop."
He would never stop. He’d take her against the wall, then carry her dripping to his bed and spend the rest of the night discovering every sound she could make.
He would taste every inch of her skin until she begged.
Once he had her falling apart in his arms, he would bury himself so deep she'd forget she ever wanted to run.
His hand moved faster, water and fantasy blurring together. She'd be responsive, he'd seen hints of it already. The way her breath caught when he leaned close. How she'd pressed back against him during their confrontation, just barely, but enough to make his wolf howl with recognition.
In his imagination, she came apart in his arms, magic sparking around them as her body clenched on his cock. The image sent him over the edge with a violence that left him gasping, her name torn from his throat as he spilled himself across his fist.
"Lily," he groaned. "Fucking. Mine."
But even as pleasure crashed through him, it wasn't enough. Would never be enough. Not until he had the real thing. Not until she was his in every way that mattered.
Gray slumped against the shower wall, breathing hard. But even as satisfaction spread through his system, he knew it wasn't going to stop or even take the edge off.
Not until he had her.
He finished his shower and collapsed into bed, exhaustion finally dragging at him.
His apartment smelled like her, traces of lavender and earth that seemed to cling to everything.
Through the walls, he heard the soft sounds of her moving around, and his wolf settled with the awareness of her proximity.
Tomorrow, they'd work together again. Stand close while brewing, their hands brushing as they shared equipment. He'd watch her work with that unconscious grace, and his control would fray a little more.
How many more days before he snapped?
Not many, his wolf whispered with dark satisfaction. Not many at all.
Sleep pulled him under, dreams full of autumn hair and forest-green eyes.
Hours later, he woke to gray dawn light. Staring at the ceiling, Gray realized what day it was.
Tomorrow marked three years since Ash died.
His brother would have laughed his ass off at Gray falling for a witch. Would have made some joke about his perpetual scowl meeting someone sunshine enough to crack through it.
You'd like her, little brother. She's incredibly sweet and stubborn as hell at the same time. And she doesn't take my shit.
The thought made his chest ache with old grief mixed with something too close to hope. Maybe that's what Lily represented—not only desire or the mate bond, but the possibility of living again instead of simply surviving.
This arrangement was going to kill him.
But if Ash's death had taught him anything, it was that some things were worth the risk.