Page 5 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

I study him, trying to read the angle, the hidden agenda. Men don't just offer help without wanting something in return. That's not how the world works. Not in my experience.

"What's the catch?" I ask bluntly.

A strange expression crosses his face—something like sadness mixed with understanding. For a moment, I swear his eyes flash with an amber glow, but it's gone so quickly I must have imagined it.

"No catch," he says. "It's just a place to sleep."

"I can't pay you."

"I didn't ask you to."

I swallow hard, hating the desperate hope blooming in my chest. A real bed. A locked door. One night without constantly checking the windows.

"I don't need charity," I say, the words stiff with pride.

Eli doesn't blink. "It's not charity," he says. "It's just a place to sleep."

I look back at Willow, her face lit with wonder as she cups a firefly in her palms. The tiny light illuminates her features, casting shadows that make her look older than her years. She deserves better than another night in a bus station or a park bench. She deserves walls and a roof and a few hours without fear.

"You won't owe me anything," Eli adds quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "You don't even have to talk to me. But the kid deserves a roof over her head."

Something in his tone makes me look at him—really look at him. There's no pity in his eyes, no condescension. Just a steady calmthat makes my racing thoughts slow. He shifts slightly, and for a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of tension in his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders that suggests he's holding himself carefully in check.

I don't understand why I feel like I can trust him. I've known him for all of twenty minutes. But something about him feels... safe.

It's not that I'm afraid of shifters—they weren't the ones who destroyed our lives. It was humans, hunters with their cold eyes and calculated cruelty who killed Willow's parents. Who've been hunting us ever since. But trusting anyone, shifter or human, after what happened two years ago... that's what scares me.

"One night," I say finally, the words feeling like surrender. "Just until I figure something else out."

Relief flashes across his face, so brief I almost miss it. "One night," he agrees, and I notice how he exhales slowly, as if he'd been holding his breath waiting for my answer.

Willow bounds back to us, her cupped hands glowing with captured fireflies. "Look, Grace! They're like tiny stars!"

I force a smile, pushing down my unease. "They're beautiful, Wills. But you should let them go now. Living things shouldn't be trapped."

She nods solemnly and opens her hands. The fireflies rise into the air, blinking their silent code as they disperse into the night. One lands briefly on Eli's shoulder before taking flight again, and Willow giggles.

"We're going to stay with Mr. Greystone tonight," I tell her, watching her reaction carefully.

Her eyes widen, then she turns to Eli with that unnerving directness she sometimes has. "Are you taking us to the safe place?"

Eli crouches down to her level, his movements slow and deliberate. "Not yet," he says honestly. "But I can give you a safe place for tonight. Is that okay?"

Willow studies him with an intensity that makes me wonder, not for the first time, how much of her father's wolf instincts she's inherited. Then she nods once, decisive. "Yes. That's okay." She tilts her head. "You smell like the forest."

I tense, embarrassed by her bluntness, but Eli just laughs—a warm, genuine sound that makes something in my chest loosen despite myself.

"That's the wolf in me," he tells her, completely unfazed. "Good nose you've got there."

Willow beams at the praise, and I realize with a pang how starved she is for connection with others like her. For all my efforts to keep her safe, there are parts of her I can't nurture, can't understand.

Eli stands, offering her a small smile before turning back to me. "My car's this way."

I shake my head immediately. "We'll follow in my car."

Something like understanding flashes in Eli's eyes. "Smart," he says simply, no judgment in his tone. "I'm in the east lot. Blue truck."

"We'll be right behind you," I reply, grateful he doesn't push.

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