Page 17 of Bronx

Maybe I’m not enough for him, she thought, her eyes stinging with unbidden tears.Maybe I never will be.

The silence of the suite seemed to press in around her, punctuated only by the gentle snores of her slumbering son. It should have brought comfort, but instead, it felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned to lead.

Bronx doesn’t have to love me to take me as a mate, she told herself.He said he’d do what’s best for Samuel.

Cora was fairly certain that meant he did plan to take her as a mate.

Even if he doesn’t want me.

But in the darkest recesses of her mind, a small voice whispered the truth she couldn’t bring herself to admit: shewantedBronx to want her, not out of duty or obligation, but because he truly cared for her.

“Please,” she murmured into the darkness. “Let him see me…”

Her thoughts were a tangled web of hope and despair, and as she tossed and turned, sleep eluding her, she clung to the fragile dream of a life with a man who didn’t—couldn’t—love her.

Chapter 7

THE MORNING LIGHT FILTEREDthrough the curtains, casting a glow across Bronx’s face as he slowly woke. His eyes opened, and he inhaled deeply, his senses immediately flooded by a haunting scent that danced at the edges of his memory—jasmine and vanilla.

He recognized it as the scent Cora had worn—a perfume of some sort?

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up in bed, trying to recall where he’d encountered that alluring scent before. The thoughts whirled around in his mind, refusing to coalesce into a clear answer.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He needed to see Cora again, to figure out what was happening between them.

At the dinner the night before, he’d found himself repeatedly drawn to her gaze. He knew there was something special about her, something that called to him on a deeper level. But could she ever see him as more than the stoic guardian?

Not if you can’t figure out how to talk to her, he thought disgustedly.

He needed to correct his failure from the night before. With a sigh, Bronx picked up the phone on his bedside table and dialed the front desk. “I need to be connected to Cora Harris’s room, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Bishop,” the desk clerk replied before transferring his call.

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the line, each ring heightening Bronx’s anxiety. Finally, he heard the click of the receiver being picked up, and Cora’s gentle voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Bronx,” he said, his voice gruff but colored with a hint of nervousness he hoped she couldn’t detect. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and for a heart-stopping moment, Bronx worried she might reject his invitation. But then Cora spoke. “I’m working at the Moonstone Café tonight, but you could come sit and have coffee with me during my break. I don’t know exactly when that will be though.”

“Sure, I can do that,” he replied, relieved she hadn’t turned him down completely. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Sounds good. I look forward to it,” she said before hanging up the phone.

As he replaced the receiver, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness settled in his stomach like lead. Anticipation coiled inside him, twisting and turning like a wild animal clawing at its cage. He paced the floor of his room, his thoughts racing as he considered the implications of his growing attraction to Cora. Could this tiny woman truly be capable of seeing past his scars, both physical and emotional?

He wanted to be near Cora, but at the same time, he was terrified. Terrified she might discover the darkness within him, the scars that marred his soul.

And even more frightening was the possibility that she could somehow accept him despite it all.

“Get it together,” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists in an attempt to steady his nerves. He needed a way to burn off this restless energy before meeting Cora at the café. And there was only one thing that ever helped with that: a run through Yellowstone in his wolf form.

Without hesitation, Bronx pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then made his way out through the lobby and to his usual starting point, where he stripped off his clothes again. His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully hung them on a designated branch of a nearby tree, ensuring they would be safe until his return. Then, with a single fluid motion, he shifted into his wolf form.

The mountain air filled his lungs as he raced through the forest, each stride purposeful and powerful. As a guardian of the Moonstone Pack, he had spent countless hours patrolling these woods, but today, there was a new urgency driving him forward. Every muscle in his body surged with the need to prove his worthiness, to show himself and Cora that he could be the man she deserved.

As Bronx leaped over fallen logs and dodged between trees, his mind drifted back to Cora. The memory of her scent—that jasmine and vanilla—seemed to follow him even here, mingling with the earthy scents of moss and juniper trees. It was a reminder of what he stood to gain or lose, depending on how their encounter went tonight.

He let out a low growl.I will show her my true self, and if she can accept me for who I am, then maybe… Maybe I could let myself fall in love with her.

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