Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
I yonna
The bakery was packed. Thanksgiving was in two days, and every Charcoal City resident with a craving for pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon seemed to be lined up at my counter. But in the blur of orders, flour dust, and simmering cranberry glaze, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Griff, with his quiet intensity, his haunted gaze, and that frustrating insistence on keeping his distance. He’d tried to stay away from me, but every time he walked in, I felt the air shift, the magic in me pulsing with a spark that was hard to ignore.
I was in the middle of rolling out dough when the bell above the bakery door chimed. I knew it was him before I even looked up. Griff’s presence was unmistakable, a warm, heady thrum that settled over me like a second skin. I couldn’t help it; I glanced up, meeting his dark gaze across the room. He looked like he hadn’t slept much—dark shadows under his eyes and that tousled hair that begged for someone to run fingers through it. My fingers, apparently, because the thought lodged itself in my brain like a splinter.
“Iyonna.” His voice was low, soft, and it sent a shiver up my spine.
I forced myself to keep moving, smoothing the dough with steady hands and ignoring the flutter of nerves that erupted every time he came near me. "Griff,” I said, carefully focusing on my task. “Thought you’d be keeping a low profile?”
He shrugged, leaning against the counter, his intense gaze on my hands as they worked. “Turns out I can’t resist your cranberry pie,” he murmured, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could help it. “You’ve barely been here a week, and you’re already hooked? Charcoal City really does have its charms.”
He looked at me then, and there was something in his eyes—something raw, almost vulnerable. “It does.”
The way he said it, so soft, so honest, made my breath catch. I looked away, my cheeks warming as I focused on slicing apples for the pies. His attention, so focused and so real, was overwhelming, like trying to stand under a waterfall.
“Could use a hand, you know,” I said, more to break the silence than anything.
“Happy to oblige,” he said, his voice still that low rumble. He moved around the counter, coming to stand beside me, and suddenly the space felt even smaller.
He was so close, his arm brushing against mine as he started peeling apples. I didn’t need the help—not really. I had Delilah and enough magic to whip up a whole new batch of pies in minutes. But having Griff here made the repetitive work feel… lighter. The quiet moments of flour-dusted fingers and the occasional bump of our shoulders filled the room with a warmth that didn’t come from the ovens.
“So,” I said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “are you planning on avoiding Thanksgiving, or do wolf shifters celebrate with turkey, too?”
He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, resonating in my bones. “Thanksgiving isn’t really a thing for my family.” His gaze darkened slightly. “We never were big on holidays.”
His words hung in the air between us, and I wanted to reach out, wanted to pull him from whatever memories haunted him. I cleared my throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if you ever get tired of running or need an excuse to have too much pie, there’s always a spot here.”
He stilled, his gaze locking onto mine. “You shouldn’t get mixed up with me, Iyonna.” His words were quiet, barely more than a whisper. “It’s not safe. My father’s pack… they don’t forgive easily. And neither do the hunters on my tail.”
I met his gaze, my fingers itching to reach out and touch him, to make him see that I wasn’t scared. “You think I don’t know how dangerous things are? You think I’m scared?”
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Maybe you should be.”
We were too close, and the tension between us was thick enough to taste. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, his presence filling the space around us until it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Every instinct in me screamed to close the distance, to take one step closer, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
And just like that, he pulled back, his jaw clenched tight. “I can’t do this, Iyonna.”
The pang of disappointment hit me harder than I expected. “What are you so afraid of, Griff?”
His gaze was stormy, conflicted. “I’m afraid of losing you.”
I hadn’t expected that, and his honesty left me reeling. But before I could respond, the bell above the door chimed again, and I was snapped back to reality as Delilah appeared, giving Griff a knowing smirk before turning to the next customer. Griff stepped back, putting distance between us, and the moment was gone, like a thread slipping through my fingers.
We worked through the rest of the morning in a rhythm that felt natural, filling pie crusts, blending spices, and stealing glances when we thought the other wasn’t looking. Every moment with him felt heavier, more charged, like the start of a storm building on the horizon.
Eventually, we found ourselves alone again, the last pie out of the oven and the bakery unusually quiet.
He leaned against the counter, looking at me, his eyes dark and searching. “I should go,” he said, but there was no conviction in his words.
I took a step closer, the distance between us shrinking. “Then go,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, challenging him to stay.
He didn’t move, and neither did I. My heart pounded, my magic thrumming under my skin like a live wire, pulsing in time with the beat of my heart. The attraction between us was undeniable, and I could see the same pull in his eyes, that same need that was eating me up inside.
And then, before I could second-guess myself, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his. It was a small, simple touch, but it sent a shock through me, like I’d touched pure energy. Griff’s gaze dropped to our hands, his fingers brushing over mine in a way that was both tender and possessive.
His voice was a low murmur, rough and thick with emotion. “Iyonna, I… you’re making it really hard to do the right thing.”
“Maybe I’m tired of doing the ‘right’ thing,” I whispered, stepping closer until I was pressed against him, my heart hammering in my chest.
His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him, and the world around us faded until there was only him, his warmth, his steady heartbeat under my fingers. His face was close, so close that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the dark lashes framing his gaze as he looked down at me.
Then, just as quickly, he let me go, stepping back. The distance between us was both relief and agony.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking away. “If I stay… they’ll come. And you’ll be in danger. I can’t put that on you, Iyonna. I won’t.”
The emotion in his voice, the pain and longing, made my throat tighten. “But you already have, Griff. I’m in this whether you want me to be or not. And I can handle myself.”
He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips, but there was no humor in it. “You don’t know what they’re capable of, Iyonna. My family—they’re not like other packs. They don’t stop. They don’t care who gets hurt.”
I reached out, taking his hand, ignoring the flicker of electricity that jolted through me. “Then let’s make them stop. Together.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and something deeper that made my heart twist. The unspoken promise in his gaze was both terrifying and exhilarating, a step into the unknown that I was somehow desperate to take.
The doorbell chimed, and Delilah bustled in, giving us a curious glance before turning her attention to closing down the bakery. Griff gently pulled his hand from mine, giving me a look that said everything he couldn’t put into words.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Iyonna,” he murmured, his voice laced with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
And as he walked out into the cold November air, I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep walking this tightrope of desire and danger, balancing on the edge of something that felt like both salvation and destruction. Because one thing was clear—the more time I spent with Griff, the harder it became to imagine my life without him.