Page 4 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

I almost laugh at the word. Safe. As if safety is something that exists in the real world and not just in bedtime stories.

But Willow's eyes are pleading, and we've been cooped up in that dingy motel room for days. My fingers loosen their grip against my better judgment.

"Stay where I can see you," I tell her firmly. "Three minutes."

She nods solemnly before darting toward the lights, her small hands cupped to catch their glow. I watch her for a moment, memorizing the rare sight of her unguarded joy, before turning my attention back to Eli.

He's watching me, not Willow. The intensity in his gaze makes something flutter in my stomach—not fear, exactly, but awareness. I tamp it down immediately.

I cross my arms tightly, suddenly conscious of the ill-fitting server's uniform I stole from the hotel laundry. The fabric scratches against my skin, a constant reminder of how far I've fallen.

"I'm sorry for crashing your party," I say, though I'm not really sorry at all. "I didn't know how else to find you."

Eli leans back against the bench, his posture relaxed but attentive. The fairy lights cast shadows across the planes of his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw. He's handsome in a rugged, unpolished way that makes it hard to look directly at him.

"How did you even hear about us?" he asks.

"Rumors." I scan the grounds, counting exits, cataloging threats. Old habits. A distant strain of violin music drifts from the ballroom, incongruously elegant against the knot of dread in my chest. "In a diner outside of Portland. Two men were talkingabout Blackwell Corporation building some kind of sanctuary for... people like Willow." I swallow hard. "I've been searching for something like that for months."

"And you just... what? Decided to crash a private gala based on overheard gossip?"

When he puts it that way, it sounds insane. Desperate. I lift my chin. "I've done crazier things to keep her safe."

Something softens in his expression. "I believe that." He runs a hand through his hair, messing up whatever styling product had been keeping it in place. The gesture makes him look younger, less intimidating. His scent reaches me on the night breeze—something woodsy and warm that makes me think of forests, of hiding places, of earth that holds secrets.

I catch myself leaning slightly toward him and immediately straighten my spine.

"Look, I need to be straight with you," he says, his voice gentler than before. "The sanctuary isn't ready yet."

The words hit like a physical blow. "What do you mean, not ready?"

"I mean it's mostly blueprints and permits right now. We have the land, we have the funding, but we don't have actual buildings. No housing, no infrastructure—just plans."

The fantasy I'd built in my head collapses like a house of cards—high fences keeping hunters out, classrooms where Willow could learn about her shifter side, a bed that was ours for more than a week. Gone. All of it gone.

My throat tightens. "So it was all just talk."

"No," he says firmly. "It's happening. It's just not... finished."

I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. "Great. That's just fucking great." I push to my feet, needing to move, to think. "Perfect timing as always, Grace," I mutter to myself. "Chase a fairy tale across three states just to find out it doesn't exist yet."

"Where are you staying tonight?" he asks quietly.

I hesitate. We'd checked out of our motel this morning. All our belongings are stashed in the backseat of my car.

"I'll figure something out," I say, the words automatic. They've become my mantra over the past couple years—a promise to myself, to Willow, that somehow I'll make things work.

Eli watches me for a long moment, his hazel eyes unnervingly perceptive. "The motels in town are full," he says. "Tourist season."

I look away, focusing on Willow as she chases fireflies. She looks so small against the vastness of the estate grounds, her secondhand clothes hanging loose on her thin frame. Seven years old and already she's lived in more places than most people do in a lifetime. She keeps glancing back at me, checking my expression, gauging whether she should be afraid or not.

I force my face to relax. She's already too good at reading my fear.

"I have a spare room," Eli says, his voice careful, measured. "You and Willow could stay there. Just until you figure out your next move."

My head snaps back to him, suspicion flaring hot and immediate. "Why would you offer that? You don't know us."

"I know enough." He shrugs, the movement fluid and easy. "You're protecting your sister. You're running from hunters. And you need somewhere to sleep tonight."

---