Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
The scent hit Adrian before he even reached the corridor.
Frustration. Exhaustion. That maddening sweetness beneath it all that had been driving his wolf insane for the better part of a week now.
Harper.
He’d returned from a late patrol fully intending to grab a few hours of sleep before the moon’s pull made rest impossible.
Three days—no, two now, the midnight hour having slipped past—until the full moon, and his control was already fraying at the edges.
Every instinct screamed at him to check his territory, to prowl his boundaries, to make sure nothing threatened what was his.
And that instinct kept dragging him back to one particular human who had no business being his anything.
He paused outside his office door, jaw tight. He could hear her heartbeat through the wood—faster than it should be, stressed rhythm punctuated by sharp breaths of irritation. The soft click of keyboard keys came in rapid bursts, then stopped, then started again with renewed aggression.
She was still working. Long past midnight, alone, pushing herself past exhaustion.
Foolish little female.
He should leave. Go to his quarters, close the door, pretend he didn’t know she was running herself into the ground over network diagnostics and security protocols. Her work habits weren’t his concern. Her health wasn’t his responsibility.
His wolf disagreed violently.
He pushed open the door.
She sat hunched over her laptop, pink hair escaping from its ponytail in disheveled strands, the glow of her screen casting harsh shadows under her eyes.
She’d abandoned her glasses at some point—they lay forgotten beside a half-empty coffee mug that had likely gone cold hours ago—and her face bore the pinched expression of someone staring at a problem that refused to yield.
She didn’t look up at his entrance. Her fingers continued their assault on the keyboard, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Harper.”
Nothing. Not even a twitch of acknowledgment.
“Harper.”
“Give me a minute.” Her voice was hoarse. “I almost have this security vulnerability mapped, and if I stop now I’ll lose the thread—”
“You will stop now.”
That got her attention. Her head snapped up, grey eyes blazing with immediate defiance despite the exhaustion dragging at her features. “Excuse me?”
He moved into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.
The office felt smaller at night, more intimate, the darkness pressing against the windows like something hungry.
Her scent filled the space completely—no competing smells, no distracting pack members, just her wrapping around his senses until his wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin.
“It’s past midnight. You’ve been working for—” He paused, calculating. She’d been at her desk when he left for evening patrol, and that had been before dinner. “—at least eight hours without a proper break. You need rest.”
“I need to finish this vulnerability assessment.” She turned back to her screen, dismissing him with a gesture that would have earned any pack member a sharp reprimand.
“The attempted breaches I identified are getting more sophisticated. Someone is actively probing your defenses, and I need to figure out where they’re targeting before they find a way through. ”
“That can wait until morning.”
“No, it really can’t.”
“Harper—”
“Adrian.” She threw his name back at him like a challenge, still not looking away from her work. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been doing this for years. I know my limits.”
“Do you?” He moved closer, and she tensed—not with fear, but with that electric awareness that seemed to spark between them whenever he invaded her space. “Your hands are shaking. Your heart rate is elevated. You’re running on caffeine and stubbornness, and both are about to fail you.”
“How do you—” She stopped and sighed, undoubtedly remembering his enhanced senses. “That’s a creepy superpower, by the way.”
“Look at me, kitten.”
The words came out low and rough, threaded with the dominance that his wolf was pushing to the surface. A command wrapped in velvet, the kind that made lesser wolves drop their gaze and bare their throats.
Her chin lifted.
Look at me, he’d said, and she did—directly, unflinchingly, her eyes meeting his with a defiance that sent heat crackling down his spine. No submission. No deference. Just stubborn, brilliant, infuriating resistance.
His wolf surged forward, pressing against his control.
“You should be resting.” His voice came out more growl than words. “Your body requires sleep. I can hear how exhausted you are.”
“My body will rest when my brain lets it.” Her jaw set. “And my brain won’t let it until I’ve figured out who’s trying to hack your network.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“Actually, it is. My body, my schedule, my choice.”
“You’re in my territory.” He stepped closer, and god help him, her scent intensified with proximity—that maddening sweetness mixing with something temptingly defiant, something that made his wolf want to pin her down and prove just how thoroughly she was wrong about who had control here.
“Under my protection. Your wellbeing is my responsibility.”
“I’m not your responsibility.” She pushed back from her desk, standing up to face him.
The movement brought them close—too close—her small frame a stark contrast to his bulk, her flushed face tilted up to maintain that confrontational eye contact.
“I work for Derek, not you. I’m here to do a job, and I’ll do it on my terms.”
“Your terms are going to put you in the infirmary with exhaustion.”
“That’s my problem.”
“It’s my problem when—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.
When I can’t stop thinking about you. When your scent haunts me. When every instinct I have screams that you’re mine to protect, mine to care for, mine in ways that terrify me.
He couldn’t say any of that. Wouldn’t.
“When what?” she pressed, because of course she did. She never let anything go, never backed down, never gave him the easy submission that would have made this so much simpler. “When it inconveniences your schedule? When you have to explain to Derek why his employee collapsed? What?”
“When you matter to me.”
The words escaped before he could stop them, and she froze. Her heartbeat—that tell-tale rhythm he’d become so attuned to—stuttered and then accelerated, pounding against her ribs.
“I…” She swallowed. “What?”
Too late to retreat now, he thought, and his wolf howled his agreement.
“My wolf has been half-mad since you arrived, and every logical part of me knows I should maintain my distance and stay professional. Knows I should remember all the reasons why trusting someone like you is dangerous.”
“Someone like me?”
“Female. Beautiful. Clever.” The last word came out like an accusation. “The last clever female in my life nearly destroyed my pack.”
“You mean your stepmother. Vivienne.”
Irene must have told her that name, but Harper deserved to understand the depths of his mistrust if she was going to be subjected to it.
“She was smart,” he said, his voice flat. “Charming. Manipulative. She twisted my father around her finger, even though she betrayed him time after time. She tried to do the same to me.” She’d even succeeded for a while. “She sowed bitterness and betrayal everywhere she went.”
“I’m not her.”
“I know you’re not.” The admission felt like pulling teeth. “I know, Harper. Logically. But my wolf doesn’t care about logic, and neither do twenty years of learned caution.”
They stared at each other across the narrow space between them, the air thick with tension and unspoken things.
Her exhaustion seemed forgotten now, replaced by that fierce intensity he’d come to recognize—her analytical mind working through this new data, categorizing and processing and drawing conclusions.
“So you’re conflicted,” she said finally. “Your instincts say one thing, your experience says another. And somehow I’m caught in the middle of that war.”
“Yes.”
“That must be frustrating.”
“You have no idea.”
Her lips curved—not quite a smile, but close.
“Actually, I might. My brain keeps telling me that getting involved with you is a terrible idea. You’re my client.
You’re a werewolf Alpha with obvious trust issues and a pack full of people who already think I’m an outsider.
The logical play is to finish my job and leave without complications. ”
His chest tightened. “And what does the rest of you say?”
“The rest of me?” Her gaze drifted down to his mouth—a tell so obvious that his wolf howled in triumph. “The rest of me apparently has no interest in logic when you’re standing this close.”
Fuck.
The thin thread of his control snapped.
He moved before he could second-guess himself, closing the distance between them in a single stride. His hands found her waist, lifting her onto the edge of her desk with a strength that drew a startled gasp from her lips.
“Adrian—”
“Tell me to stop, kitten.” His voice was barely recognizable, rough with need and the lunar pull he’d been fighting all week. His face hovered inches from hers, their breath mingling. “Tell me this is a mistake, that you don’t want—”
“Shut up.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward, and then her mouth was on his.
The kiss started desperate—clashing teeth and frustrated groans and days of suppressed tension finally finding an outlet. She tasted like cold coffee and determination, her lips soft despite their aggression, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.
He growled against her mouth, the sound vibrating through both of them. His hands spanned her waist, feeling her delicate bones beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and something primal roared in satisfaction at the contrast. Small. Fierce. His.