Page 18 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

She pauses, voice wavering. "We've been moving ever since. Cheap motels, odd jobs, always one eye over my shoulder. I thought maybe we lost them, but I never stopped waiting for them to find us again."

She swallows hard. "I'm human. I don't have claws, or instincts, or a pack. I've been doing my best, but sometimes it feels like it's not enough. Like I'm not enough. And when I heard about thisplace—about the Sanctuary—I didn't think. I just drove. I needed something solid. Somewhere safe. For her."

I listen without interrupting, my heart aching for what she's been through. For the weight she's carried alone for so long.

"You are enough," I tell her, the words rough with emotion. "You've kept her alive. Kept her safe. That's everything, Grace."

She starts to cry—quiet, silent tears that aren't about pain, but about release. I don't say anything more. I pull her into my arms, letting her bury her face against my chest. Her tears soak through my shirt, but I don't move. I hold her like she's something sacred. Like she's not broken, just tired.

I feel her breath warm against my chest, the gentle rise and fall of her body gradually syncing with mine. The scent of her hair—something floral and faint—fills my senses. My wolf stirs, protective and possessive in equal measure.Mine, it whispers.Ours to protect.

She pulls back slightly, looks up at me, eyes shimmering in the low light. I lean forward, slowly. Giving her time to speak up. To pull away.

She doesn't.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, we share a breath—the air between us charged with something neither of us is ready to name. I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her cheek.

Our lips meet—soft, searching, hesitant. But when she kisses me back, it's with a hunger that steals my breath. My hands come up to frame her face, thumbs brushing away the dampness on her cheeks. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, pulling me closer.

When we pull apart, Grace whispers, "What are we doing?"

I answer, voice low: "Whatever you're ready for."

She doesn't say anything else. She just leans into me, not kissing, but being held. And for now, that's enough. I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on top of her head, and we sit together in the quiet.

The potted plant sits on the table, small but alive. Ready to grow roots, if given the chance.

Chapter 6

Grace

The office phone rings for the third time in ten minutes, and I catch it before the second chime. "Whispering Pines Security, how can I help you?"

I listen to the caller, a young werewolf named Jamie who's having trouble with his patrol schedule. His voice is anxious, explaining that he's been double-booked for tonight—both on perimeter patrol and for a training session with newer recruits.

"Let me check the system," I say, pulling up the security company's schedule on the desktop computer. Four days into this job, and I'm already getting the hang of their scheduling software. "I see the conflict. Let me fix that for you."

I quickly reassign another available guard to the training session, making a note in the system. "You're all set, Jamie. You've got perimeter patrol tonight as originally planned, and we've moved someone else to handle the training."

His relief is palpable through the phone. "Thanks, Grace. You're a lifesaver."

I never thought I'd find comfort in answering phones and organizing files, but there's something satisfying about bringing order to chaos. Every report I file, every schedule I fix, everymessage I relay—it all helps keep the people who are building this sanctuary safe.

Theo emerges from his office, his broad frame filling the doorway. His expression is as stern as ever, but I've learned that's just his default. He nods toward my computer screen.

"Heard you fixed the scheduling conflict," he says, his voice gruff.

"Yes. I moved Liam to the training session since he's certified for that, and kept Jamie on patrol."

Theo studies me for a moment, then gives me a rare, approving nod. "Keep this up, and I might put you in charge of the office," he mutters, already turning to leave.

I try not to smile too obviously at what passes for high praise from the alpha. I'm still not entirely comfortable around him—his intensity is intimidating—but I appreciate that he judges me on my work, not my species. Being human in a supernatural security firm could have been awkward, but most of the shifters treat me with a professional respect I wasn't expecting.

The front door swings open, and Jake Mercer strolls in, sandy hair windblown and a half-eaten protein bar in hand. The security company's field coordinator has a perpetual smirk that somehow manages to be both irritating and charming.

"If it isn't our new gatekeeper," he says, leaning against my desk. "Got time to help a desperate man?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Depends on how desperate."

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