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NINE

CHRISSY

C hrissy stretched luxuriously across the king-sized bed in the Orchid villa.

The first rays of sunlight streamed through her open balcony doors, painting golden-amber shaped patterns across her naked body.

She hadn't bothered with pajamas last night.

Her skin had felt too electric and hypersensitive after that kiss between her and Zev in the cave.

That kiss.

Her fingers drifted to her lips, still swollen from Zev's passionate attention. No man had ever kissed her like that—like she was both precious treasure and untamed wilderness, something to be both worshipped and conquered. The memory sent heat spiraling through her core, settling low in her belly.

"Well, good morning to me," she murmured to herself, rolling onto her back and staring at the teak ceiling.

Today, she felt completely and gloriously alive. Three days on Isle Luna had done what a year of expensive spa treatments and designer clothes couldn't—restored her soul. And one night with Zev had awakened parts of her she'd thought deadened by Marty's constant control.

Zev was nothing like Marty. Where Marty demanded, Zev offered. Where Marty schemed, Zev protected. The contrast was so stark it almost made her laugh.

"Celebrity Boyfriend Number Three said I laughed too loud," she mused aloud, thinking of the actor who'd lasted all of two weeks before his ego couldn't handle her spotlight. "Wonder what Zev thinks of my laugh?"

The question sent a delicious shiver through her. She wanted to hear him answer it. Wanted to know every thought that crossed behind those intense blue eyes when he looked at her.

That look he gave her in the cave when the rain had stopped but neither of them moved to leave—pure possession tempered with something so tender it made her chest ache all over again.

"What the hell am I doing?" Chrissy sat up, running her fingers through her tousled dark hair. "I've known him for three days."

But it felt like longer. Felt like forever. Like her soul had been waiting patiently inside her half-asleep until he'd jolted it fully awake with that single, scorching kiss.

"And then he didn't even kiss me goodnight at my door," she huffed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She remembered how he'd walked her back to her villa with his large hand protective at her lower back. How he'd hesitated at her door, his eyes darkening to midnight as they dropped to her lips. For one breathless moment, she'd thought he'd kiss her again.

Instead, he'd brushed a knuckle down her cheek and said, "Sweet dreams, Chrissy," in that low, rumbling voice that seemed to vibrate directly into her bones.

"That's what you call taking it one step at a time?" She stood, stretching her arms above her head. "You turn me inside out with one kiss and then just... walk away?"

But she knew why. He'd sensed her vulnerability and her need for space after everything with Marty. Even wanting her with an intensity she could practically taste in the air between them, he'd put her comfort first.

"OK, I get it. You're perfect," she told the empty room, a smile curving her lips. "But tonight, if you pull that gentleman crap again, I'm taking matters into my own hands."

The thought of being the aggressor sent an unexpected thrill through her. With Marty, with the celebrity boyfriends, with everyone in her life lately—she'd been reactive and responding to their demands. But with Zev? She could take what she wanted, and she knew he would let her.

And what she wanted was another taste of that wild, untamed power he kept carefully leashed beneath his control.

"Mate," she whispered, testing the word on her tongue. It had sounded primitive when he'd said it. Significant. Like it meant something far deeper than "girlfriend" or even "partner."

Whatever it meant, she wanted to find out.

As she stared out her balcony doors at the sun rising higher over the horizon, after months of feeling completely lost and hopeless, Chrissy felt like herself again—impulsive, hopeful, adventurous, and absolutely ready to pursue what she wanted today.

Chrissy padded barefoot to the closet, the morning air kissing her naked skin. For a moment, she stood stroking the soft fabrics of the clothes Olivia had provided, marveling at this simple choice—what to wear—that had been denied her for so long.

"No Leslie telling me these shorts show too much thigh," she murmured, pulling out a pair of frayed denim cutoffs that would barely cover her backside. "No Marty insisting this tank top needs a fancy blazer over it."

After she put on her white lace bra and panties, she slipped into the white tank top, the thin cotton hugging her curves perfectly.

The denim shorts followed, settling low on her hips.

God, it felt good to dress down. The high-fashion outfits Leslie insisted on made her feel like a doll—beautiful but stiff and always on display.

Chrissy ordered breakfast through the villa's tablet system: fresh fruit, coconut pancakes, and strong island coffee. When it arrived twenty minutes later, she sat cross-legged on her balcony, eating whatever she wanted, however she wanted.

"I'd have been fired for these carbs back home," she laughed, licking syrup from her finger. "Leslie would've knocked the fork right out of my hand."

After breakfast, Chrissy decided to explore the grounds around her villa. The morning sunlight filtered through the palm trees, creating dappled patterns on the stone pathway. The air smelled of salt and tropical flowers, intoxicating in its purity.

As she rounded a corner near a flowering hibiscus bush, excited whispers erupted. Chrissy froze, her heart skipping a beat. For a terrifying second, she thought of paparazzi—or worse, Marty's spies finding her even here.

But it wasn't adults with cameras, or someone after her. It was children. Five of them, ranging from maybe six to twelve years old, wide-eyed and nudging each other.

"Is that really her?" a boy with a mop of sandy hair stage-whispered.

"Ask her!" hissed a girl with pigtails and missing front teeth.

A smaller boy, no more than seven, broke free from the group. "Are you really Chrissy Rivera?" His eyes were huge and hopeful. "The one who saved Jonah?"

Chrissy's tension melted. "I am, but Zev did most of the saving."

The children erupted in excited chatter, crowding closer. The little boy's face lit up like Christmas morning. "It really is her! Jonah said Chrissy Rivera saved him last night, and he was right!"

One of the girls thrust forward a faded beach hat. "Can you sign this? Please? My sister will freak OUT."

Before Chrissy could answer, a deep voice boomed from behind the children. "What are you all doing here?"

Zev strode into view, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a fitted white polo that emphasized his broad shoulders. His presence seemed to fill the entire clearing, commanding and powerful.

"You know this area is restricted." His voice was firm but not harsh. "Employees only."

The children shrank back, guilty expressions blooming on their sunburned faces. Chrissy's protective instinct flared.

"It's okay, Zev. Really." She flashed him a smile that softened his stern expression. "I don't mind. Actually, it's nice to meet some of your... residents."

Turning to the kids, she held out her hand for the beach hat. "Let me sign this for your sister. And what else do you have?"

Within seconds, she was surrounded by kids thrusting forward notebooks, t-shirts, and even a tennis shoe. Chrissy signed them all, laughing at their breathless questions.

"Do you know Taylor Swift?"

"Can you sing us 'Daddy's Girl'?"

"Are you Zev's girlfriend now?"

That last one made her cheeks flush as she felt Zev's eyes burning into her. Before she could respond, a flash went off. One of the older boys had snapped a picture with his phone.

Zev moved beside her with startling speed. His presence felt like a shield—protective but not possessive like Marty's hovering had been.

"You need to delete that photo immediately. Miss Rivera being here is a secret, and we all know how important secrets are, right?" he said, his voice deepening into what Chrissy was starting to recognize as his Alpha tone.

The children nodded solemnly, though the youngest piped up, "Like how we're wolf shifters, but we don't let anyone else know?"

Chrissy's eyes met Zev's in a moment of perfect understanding. His expression was caught between amusement and alarm. She bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Exactly like that secret," Zev said pointedly, his eyes narrowing at the little boy. "Which we're very careful about who we tell, aren't we, Lucas?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Oops," he whispered, glancing nervously at Chrissy.

"It's okay," Chrissy whispered back, crouching to his level. "I already know. And I'm very good at keeping secrets. I won't tell anyone about your wolves, and you won't tell anyone I'm here. Deal?"

Lucas stuck out his tiny hand solemnly. "Deal."

As Chrissy shook on it, she felt Zev's presence like a physical touch against her back. Heat radiated from him, making her acutely aware of how thin her tank top was, and how her cutoffs exposed the length of her tanned legs.

She could feel his gaze appreciatively admiring her body in this very exposed outfit. When she glanced at him, his eyes had darkened with desire to a stormy blue.

Heat rushed up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. For once, the attention didn't feel invasive or objectifying—it felt like a caress, a private conversation between their bodies.

"So, um," she stammered, searching for a distraction before she did something impulsive like press herself against him right in front of these children. "Zev, didn't you mention you have some professional guitars here at the resort? Maybe we could show these guys?"

The children erupted in squeals and excited chatter.

"Yeah! Can we see them?"

"Do you play too, Alpha Zev?"

"I bet Chrissy is better!"