Everything was difficult about being here, even in the dark. The dust all around them. The intact furniture that indicated someone else had moved in long ago. Taken over in the years he’d left since. The lack of family portraits that used to hang all over this place, the ones he was accustomed to seeing on the walls, here and in his memories, were long since gone. Lost to the years. Every bit of it cut him deep enough it felt like he wouldn’t be whole again.

But he couldn’t think of that right now. Not when Cheyenne was standing in front of him, clearly and desperately needing him.

No. Not him. Just someone. Anyone.

He just happened to be the needy bastard assigned to protecting her.

“Cheyenne,” he said her name, low and slow, drawled it like he would to a startled horse.

She was flapping her hands all over the place, pacing back and forth as she made a repeated humming noise. Like she was having some kind of panic attack or something.

“Cheyenne,” he said her name, again, trying to draw her attention.

When she didn’t answer him immediately, he acted on pure instinct, doing what he hoped someone would do for him had he ever felt the same. He approached her slowly, gently touching her arm. She jumped suddenly, like she might shy away. But he didn’t let her.

“Let me hold you,” he said.

She gave him a small, barely-there nod. He wrapped his arms around her in seconds. Brought her firmly to his chest. If he could just hold all the pieces of her together, she might not break. It took a moment, but she settled into his arms, against the heavy weight of him over her. She shivered a little, like everything inside her was poised to vibrate, but he just held on tighter. Fuck, if he didn’t understand why she needed it.

But he did too.

Christ. He’d known coming here was a mistake.

Foolish even.

“It’s all right, baby. Just breathe.” Tentatively, he reached up and stroked a hand through her fiery hair. The strands fell like silk between his fingers. Softer than he’d imagined. Or remembered, from the last time he’d tangled his hands there. When she’d kissed him before, he hadn’t been able to help himself. But he was glad for that now. For stopping. Now that he knew she was real, really as sweet as she seemed, he couldn’t allow himself to take advantage.

A wolf like him wasn’t for her.

“I promise I’ll try and get you back in time.” He said it because he couldn’t think of anything else, but the moment the words passed his lips, the tension in her lessened.

Significantly.

“Is that what was worrying you?”

She nodded. Still jittery.

Silas couldn’t help it, but he chuckled to himself. “Damn you’re really a sucker for tradition.”

“Routines,” she breathed against his shoulder. “I like routines.”

He nodded. He could remember that.

Slowly, as the tension in her body lessened, the length of the hug, the intensity of how tight he was holding onto her became . . . awkward, filled with tension. Silas gave a rough clear of his throat, before he stepped back. Any longer holding her and it was going to turned heated, fast.

“Thanks,” she whispered, as he stepped away from her.

He didn’t like it when she thanked him. Not for something like that. Not for something any half-decent person would do. Which was the perfect way to describe him, half-decent. Both considering they were nude and the fact that his past was still something he was trying to reconcile. He supposed there was no better place than here to make sense of it.

Though he couldn’t allow himself to think about that just yet.

“There’s likely a bed or a couch since there’s still furniture in here,” he grumbled. “I doubt they’ll send anyone out to look for us until the storm clears. I’ll find some blankets.”

Cheyenne’s stomach growled.

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded.