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Waking up in Gray’s bed is disorienting enough. Waking up wrapped around Gray like some kind of human octopus takes it to a whole new level of mortifying. His arm is slung over my waist, his chest is pressed to my back, and his breath skims the curve of my neck.

My heart’s racing, and I can’t seem to stop hyper-focusing on how solid he feels against me. On the way, his hand rests on my hip, just heavy enough to remind me of the sheer size of him.

What the hell happened last night?

I shift in the bed, trying to untangle myself without waking him, but the movement only brings me closer to him. His arm tightens instinctively, and he mumbles something unintelligible into my hair. My breath hitches, and I freeze, willing my brain to focus on anything but the fact that Gray is basically cuddling me.

The details of the night before are hazy, but flashes of memory start to surface—the bar, the whiskey, Gray carrying me upstairs. And then… the kiss.

My face flames at the thought of it, of how intense it was, how desperate. But he stopped, didn’t he? He pulled away, told me it wasn’t the right time. And now, he’s snoring softly into my hair like nothing’s changed. Typical.

A sharp, blaring sound shatters the moment, cutting through the stillness like a knife. I bolt upright, my heart lurching, and Gray jerks awake beside me.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, scrambling to untangle myself from the blankets.

“The alarm,” Gray states, already on his feet and moving. He rubs a hand over his face, shaking off the last traces of sleep. “Something’s triggered the ward lines.”

Adrenaline floods my system, washing away any lingering embarrassment as I follow him to the window. Outside, the packhouse is already stirring. Wolves dart across the grounds, shifting as they go.

“We need to move,” Gray declares, grabbing his boots and pulling them on in record time.

“I’m coming with you,” I state, not waiting for permission as I reach for my own shoes.

He doesn’t argue, which is probably a sign of how serious the situation is.

By the time we reach the site, the forest is alive with activity. Shifters move in organized chaos with their attention locked on a section of the ward line that shimmers with residual magic.

“What’s the situation?” Gray demands as we stomp into the field.

Theo steps forward and explains, “Something’s breached the outer perimeter. It’s big, but it’s not giving off any demonic energy.”

Gray frowns, and his gaze shifts to the ward line. “Where is it now?”

Before Theo can answer, a deep, guttural growl echoes through the trees. My magic prickles to life in response, and I scan the shadows, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.

“Over there,” someone comments, nodding toward a cluster of trees.

The figure that emerges is massive—sleek and muscled, with dark fur that ripples in the dappled sunlight. A panther. Its yellow eyes gleam as it surveys the crowd, probably trying to determine if it should fight or flee.

The tension in the group ratchets up instantly. A few of the wolves bristle, and their postures change into something more predatory.

“Hold your positions,” Gray barks. “It’s just a cat. No one does anything unless I say so.”

The panther snarls, and its ears flatten as it crouches low to the ground. It’s not attacking yet, but it’s clearly not happy about being surrounded.

“Great plan,” I mutter, stepping up beside him. “Do we just stand here until it decides to maul someone?”

Gray shoots me a warning look. “You have a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact…” I trail off, already letting my magic seep into my palms.

“Jaslyn,” he starts, but I cut him off with a sharp glare.

“Relax,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt it.”

Before he can argue, I step forward, raising my hands slowly to show the panther I’m not a threat. Its eyes lock onto me, and a low growl rumbles from its throat. My heart pounds, but I keep my voice steady as I speak.

“Easy there,” I say softly as I weave a soothing note of magic into my words. “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re just a little lost, aren’t you?”

The panther’s growl quiets, and its ears twitch like it’s listening to me. I reach out with my magic, brushing against its mind gently, careful not to push too hard. The energy it gives off is wild and chaotic, but not hostile. Not really. It’s just afraid.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I tell him, channeling a calming spell through my hands. “But it’s okay. We’ll help you find your way out.”

The panther hesitates, and its gaze flits between me and the shifters behind me. I pour more magic into the air, a soft hum of reassurance, and slowly, it begins to relax. Its muscles loosen, and it takes a cautious step back, then another.

“That’s it,” I coax, keeping my voice low. “Just keep going. You’re almost there.”

After a tense moment, the panther turns and melts back into the shadows, and its massive frame disappears into the trees. The collective sigh of relief behind me is almost comical.

“That was reckless,” Gray complains from nearby. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t,” I counter. “And no one else was, either.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but Theo cuts in before he can. “She’s right, Alpha. That was impressive.”

Gray’s scowl deepens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns back to the group. “All right, let’s secure the area and make sure the ward line’s intact. Dismissed.”

As the crowd disperses, I feel the weight of Gray’s gaze on me. I glance at him, expecting another lecture, but his expression is unreadable.

“Good work,” he says finally, his voice gruff.

The compliment catches me off-guard, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. My stomach twists, and a quiet, traitorous part of me wonders if maybe this is his way of breaking the ice, of opening the door to talk about what happened last night. My heartbeat quickens at the thought, and I glance at him, searching for some hint of vulnerability, some sign that it’s been weighing on him the way it’s been eating at me.

But his expression is as calm and collected as ever, like nothing’s changed. Like we didn’t kiss. Like I wasn’t wrapped up in him just minutes ago, feeling more alive than I have in years.

His words from last night come rushing back— we can’t —and the sting of them makes my chest ache. He’s not going to bring it up. Not now. Maybe not ever. And as much as I try to convince myself that it doesn’t matter, that I shouldn’t care, the disappointment settles in, anyway, heavy and unwelcome.

“Thanks,” I say shortly, turning away before he can see the flicker of hurt in my eyes. Because if Gray’s determined to pretend nothing happened between us, then fine. Two can play that game.

***

I spend the rest of the day keeping myself busy, reinforcing some of the weaker ward lines and helping with minor repairs around the packhouse. But my mind keeps circling back to the same thought: Gray is avoiding me.

It’s not obvious to anyone else. To the pack, he’s just doing what alphas do—managing problems, keeping everything running smoothly. But I know better. Every time I enter a room, he’s suddenly got somewhere else to be. Every time I try to catch his eye, he’s already looking away.

It started when we got back from the ward lines. Normally, he’d make some excuse to hang around, always within earshot, always keeping an eye on me like I might spontaneously combust if left unsupervised. But not today. Today, he said something about needing to check on pack patrols and disappeared before I could even ask if he wanted help.

At first, I brushed it off. I told myself he’s busy, that the alarm this morning probably put him on edge. But as the hours drag on and he manages to dodge me at every turn, it becomes clear: Gray is avoiding me.

And I’m done pretending it doesn’t bother me.

By the time the sun starts dipping below the horizon, I’ve had enough. I find him in the packhouse office, hunched over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. He looks up as I step inside, panic entering those blue eyes when he sees me.

“Jaslyn,” he greets, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “What’s up?”

I close the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms crossed. “You tell me.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t lie to me.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but I don’t care. “This isn’t you being busy. This is you running.”

“Running? From what?”

“From me,” I snap, stepping closer. “From what happened last night.”

His jaw works as he looks away, and the sight of it only fuels my frustration. “Jaslyn, you were drunk. What happened… it shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t have. Not because I was drunk, but because you don’t have the guts to deal with it.”

His head snaps back to me, and his eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I take another step until I’m leaning over his desk. “You keep pretending like you’re the noble one, like you’re doing me some kind of favor by holding back. But the truth is, you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he growls, standing abruptly. He towers over me, but I’ll be damned if I’ll shrink away. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“And what’s that, Gray? Pretending nothing happened? Pretending there’s nothing between us?”

“You were drunk, Jaslyn. I wasn’t about to take advantage of you.”

“So what?” I demand. “If I hadn’t been drunk, would you have kept going?”

The silence that follows my question is deafening, and the look in his eyes answers for him. A lump forms in my throat, but I need to hear him say it. “Would you?”

“Yes. Yes, dammit. Is that what you want to hear? Because it doesn’t matter. You were drunk, and I wasn’t going to make that choice for you. I won’t ever make that choice for you.”

My stomach clenches, and his words settle in, sinking deep. The anger leaves me all at once, and suddenly, all I can think about is the way his lips felt on mine. The way his hands gripped my waist. The way his voice broke when he spoke my name.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stare at each other, caught in this impasse, both of us stubbornly refusing to bend.

I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly, I’m climbing over the desk and into his lap, and his arms are around me, pulling me closer. He kisses me hard, and his tongue slides against mine as his hands tangle in my hair.

This is reckless. It’s stupid. But it feels too good, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into him.

The first time was a mistake, a drunken impulse. This… this is a choice.

His fingers dig into my hips, and the pain sends a bolt of heat straight to my core. I grind against him, and the sound that rumbles in his chest only makes me want more. His hands slip under the hem of my shirt, and his fingers skim across my bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Every nerve in my body is screaming, begging for him to touch me, taste me, claim me. And in this moment, with his hands roaming my body and his tongue exploring my mouth, I would give him anything. Everything.

My head is spinning, and my heart is pounding, and all I can think is more, more, more.

His fingers move lower, tugging at the waistband of my pants, and the anticipation nearly breaks me. He stands, shifting my weight onto the desk as he kisses me harder, deeper. My legs wrap around his waist, and I’m pulling him closer, desperate to feel his weight against me.

He groans, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips roll into mine. I gasp, and my head falls back as his lips explore the column of my throat. His stubble scrapes my skin, and his teeth graze my collarbone, and the sensation is so overwhelming, so intoxicating, that I can’t think about anything else.

“Gray,” I breathe, unable to keep the need out of my voice.

His hand grips my thigh, and his touch is searing as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric. I shudder as his fingers work at the button on my pants, and a fresh wave of heat blooms in my core. He makes quick work of the zipper, and he yanks the fabric down. His lips find mine again, and I’m kissing him back, clinging to him like a lifeline.

His growl echoes through the office, and his hands move lower, sliding down the curve of my ass. I can’t seem to catch my breath, and the scent of him—of musk and earth and wolf—is intoxicating.

I can feel him straining against the confines of his pants, and the knowledge that he wants me, that he’s as desperate for me as I am for him, sends another thrill through my veins.

When he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, I don’t protest. When he pulls them down, baring me to him, I don’t even think twice. And when his hand slides between my thighs, brushing against the most sensitive part of me, I don’t hesitate to let him in.

My legs part on their own accord, and his fingers move lower, tracing the curve of my entrance. A strangled moan escapes my throat, and I grip his shoulders, anchoring myself.

“Gray,” I breathe, arching into his touch. “Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. He slips a finger inside, and I cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation. His lips capture mine again, swallowing the sounds, and his tongue slides against mine.

The heat in my core is unbearable, and I writhe against him, desperate for more. He adds another finger, and his thumb finds the spot where I need him most, circling the bundle of nerves in a maddening rhythm. My legs are shaking, my breathing is ragged, and every nerve in my body is alight with desire.

“Gray,” I gasp, and my nails dig into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The pressure is building, and my whole body is wound tight, waiting, aching, for the release.

I can’t form words anymore. I’m moaning incoherently, lost in the pleasure, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.

And then, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the wave crashes over me, and my orgasm rips through my body. I cry out, and my muscles tense, and every nerve in my body pulses. The world fades away, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sweet oblivion of release.

Gray holds me as the aftershocks ripple through me, his arms strong and steady around me. I sag against him, spent and blissful. His lips brush a tender kiss to my temple before he reaches down to undo his own pants.

On instinct, I scoot back, and when he looks back up at me, he must see the hesitation in my eyes because he stops, his expression softening.

“Jaslyn…”

“It’s not you,” I manage, my voice coming out strained and weak. “I just… I’ve never done this before.”

His eyes go wide as saucers, and in that instant, I regret admitting it. Because all I want is for him to keep touching me, but now he’s frozen, looking at me like he’s been hit by a truck.

“Are you serious?” he asks, and the disbelief in his tone stings. “Jaslyn you’re a… you’re a virgin?”

I avert my gaze. I feel myself retreating back behind my walls, locking away the vulnerability, the embarrassment, and replacing it with anger.

This was a mistake.