Page 6 of Deadly Wolf Bite

I’ve only known him a short while, but already, I can’t picture my life without him in it. Then again, if I don’t come up with a way out for us both, neither of us will survive anyway. Star-crossed lovers, destined to be one another’s downfall.

When I rub the sleep from my eyes, Grey’s standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands, chasing sleep away with the scent of bacon and coffee.

“Morning,” he murmurs as I sit up.

My heart flutters at the sight of him, at his tousled hair and sleepy eyes. The tattoos and cut of his jaw contradict that softness, adding to his sexiness. But as he sets the tray down on the bedside table, his expression shifts, concern clouding his features.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his brow furrowing with worry. “Still sick?”

I shake my head, instantly tense. “I’m good.”

Doubt flickers in his eyes. He studies me as if he’s trying to decipher some hidden message. Guilt tugs at me, but I remain silent.

He lets it go—for now, at least—and places the tray in my lap then climbs onto the bed beside me.

“This is way too much food,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“Perfect,” he says. “More for me then.”

We eat in comfortable silence, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates and the occasional sip of coffee.

But even as we share this tender moment, I can't shake the feeling that he knows something’s very wrong, that he’s just waiting for me to admit it. And part of me wants to tell him, wants to confide in him and let him share the burden. Help me figure a way out of this. But another part is terrified of what might happen if I do. So, I push those thoughts aside and focus on the warmth of him beside me.

For now, that’s enough.

It has to be.

When we’re finished, he takes the tray and sets it aside then turns back to me, excitement sparking in his eyes. “I have a surprise for you.”

Anticipation mixes with a cold dread as I try to pretend the idea of a surprise under these circumstances doesn’t terrify me. “What is it?”

“Come see.” He climbs out of bed and takes my hand, leading me from the room.

I half-expect us to turn for the living room where a firing squad awaits me, but he heads the other way—to my bedroom. The door hangs open at an awkward angle where he shoved through it last night. Inside, he stops and moves aside, and when I see what’s waiting, I stop too.

A familiar duffel bag sits on the bed: navy blue with a small tear on the side. Whoever stuffed it full of my clothes tried to zip it shut, but the zipper hasn’t worked properly in years. Beside it are two more paper shopping bags full of items. My leather bomber jacket spills out of one.

My heart swells as emotions swirl one after another.

Surprise.

Confusion.

Then gratitude and something else I can’t name that leaves me warm and tingly.

I turn to Grey. “These are my things,” I say. “From Lakeland.”

“Yeah.”

“What are they doing here?”

“I contacted the manager at the weekly motel and had him overnight everything here.”

“Seriously? When?”

“Yesterday. While you were shopping with Mia.”

I can only stare at him, touched that he’s taken care of me—without me asking, and without a single reason to do it at all considering the walk-in closet of clothing he’s already bought me.

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