Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
LEO
Leaving Junie’s bed was an exercise in masochism.
Not because of his healing wounds—those had closed to pink scars overnight, shifter regeneration doing its work while he’d been otherwise occupied.
No, the torture was entirely self-inflicted: peeling himself away from a sleep-soft woman who made protesting sounds and reached for him when he tried to extract his arm from beneath her pillow.
“Where are you going?” Her voice was rough, her eyes barely open. Morning light caught the deep auburn in her hair against the white sheets. She looked thoroughly debauched and entirely too appealing for his sanity.
“Alpha meeting.” Leo pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, breathing in the scent of her—herbs and honey and the musk of their combined pleasure from last night. The predator inside him rumbled with satisfaction. “Theo called a meeting. I need to present everything I know about Victor.”
“Mmm.” She caught his wrist, tugging him back down. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone half-asleep. “Tell them Victor’s a dick and come back to bed.”
“Compelling argument.” He let her pull him in for a proper kiss—slow and deep and tasting of want. When they broke apart, her eyes had gone dark. “But I should probably provide more detail.”
“Should you, though?” Her fingers traced down his chest, following the lines of muscle, skating over the new scars on his ribs with a tenderness that made his throat tight. Lower. His body stirred in immediate response.
Mate. Ours. Stay.
Leo caught her wandering hand before it could reach more dangerous territory. “You’re evil.”
“I’m persuasive. There’s a difference.”
“Negligible.” He kissed her knuckles, then her palm, then her wrist where her pulse beat rapidly beneath thin skin. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Three at most.”
“You’re counting hours now?”
“I’m always counting when I’m away from you.” The admission surprised him. He wasn’t given to declarations. But with Junie, words came easier than they should. “Recent development.”
Her expression softened. “You’ve gotten sappy, Castellan.”
“Your fault entirely.”
She propped herself on her elbows, the sheet sliding down to reveal the curve of her shoulder. The exact spot where a claiming mark would go. The skin was unmarked, but Leo could picture his bite there. Permanent. Possessive.
“Be careful.” Her tone shifted, serious beneath the teasing. “Beck still looks at you like he’s calculating where to hide the body.”
“Beck looks at everyone like that.”
“Beck looks at you like that.” She smiled, but worry lurked underneath. “He cares about me. I’m not saying it’s your problem, but… be aware.”
Leo nodded. He was more than aware. The scent of Beck’s complicated feelings had been obvious from their first meeting—attraction and jealousy and resignation all tangled into one confusing knot.
The wolf’s interest in Junie wasn’t news.
What would happen when Beck registered how much had changed between Leo and Junie… that remained to be seen.
“I’ll be diplomatic,” Leo promised.
“You? Diplomatic?” Her laugh followed him to the door. “Now, I’m worried.”
Leo walked the familiar route to the Wolf Moon Brewery, letting himself think about what his life had looked like before Haven Shores. Before Junie.
Six months ago, his mornings had been regimented.
Alarm at 5:00 a.m. Workout by 5:30. Shower, shave, suit by 6:15.
First meeting by 7:00. He’d eaten the same breakfast every day—protein shake, black coffee, overnight oats prepared by staff he barely spoke to.
His penthouse in San Francisco was immaculate, expensive, and utterly empty.
He’d designed it that way. No clutter meant no chaos.
No personal touches meant nothing to lose.
He’d told himself it was discipline. Control. Now he recognized it for what it was: a tomb. A beautiful, carefully constructed prison where he’d buried every part of himself that wanted more than survival.
This morning, he’d woken tangled in Junie’s sheets, her hair tickling his nose, Glimmer coiled at the foot of the bed like a judgmental chaperone.
The room smelled like her potions and her skin and the particular musk of satisfied exhaustion.
There was no schedule. No agenda. Her breath against his chest and the unprecedented desire to stay exactly where he was.
He’d smiled for no reason on the walk down the hall. That was new.
Leo paused at the corner of Harbor Street, the brewery visible ahead.
He was happy. Not content. Not satisfied. Not the grim endurance he’d mistaken for peace all these years. Actual happiness—the kind that made him want to smile for no reason, that made the world seem brighter and more interesting, that made him look forward to tomorrow instead of surviving today.
Leo had been to the brewery once before—that first assessment meeting where Theo and his inner circle had sized him up like a side of beef.
The dynamics were different now. He wasn’t a visiting alpha to be evaluated.
He was an ally. A partner. And—though no one had said it aloud—the man who reeked of the pack’s favorite witch.
Theo was already there when Leo arrived, leaning against the bar with a dark stout in hand. The wolf Alpha’s nostrils flared as Leo entered, and recognition flickered across his face.
“Castellan.” Neutral tone. Careful assessment. “You’re early.”
“Force of habit.” Leo crossed to the bar, keeping his posture relaxed. Two alphas in close quarters required careful navigation, even when those alphas were ostensibly allies. “Good beer?”
“Always. Beck would murder anyone who served subpar product in his own place.” Theo signaled the bartender—a young wolf with nervous energy who poured Leo a dark stout without being asked. “The others should be here soon.”
They drank in silence, not addressing the obvious elephant in the room.
Leo could feel Theo’s assessment like a physical weight—the older Alpha cataloging the changes since their last meeting.
The way Leo held himself differently. The traces of Junie’s scent that no amount of showering could entirely remove.
The door opened. Beck and Wyatt entered, bringing cold air and the scent of the harbor. Beck’s easy smile was firmly in place, but his nostrils flared as he crossed the threshold.
Leo watched the exact moment the wolf registered what had changed.
Beck’s smile didn’t falter. That was impressive. And telling.
“Leo.” Beck’s handshake was firm, professional. His hazel eyes were sharp beneath the friendly surface. “Ready to tell us how to nail this bastard?”
“More than ready.” Leo returned the grip, holding Beck’s gaze long enough to acknowledge what they both knew. No challenge. No apology. Recognition of a new reality. “Where’s Hux?”
“Running late.” Wyatt claimed his corner of the bar, whiskey appearing without a word exchanged. The panther shifter’s gold gaze missed nothing. “City council ran over. Budget disputes.”
“Riveting,” Beck muttered. “Let’s start without him.”