The shadow under the door didn’t budge, but he didn’t try the handle either. With Graeson, who had problems with hearing no and tended to do what he wanted, it was a small victory.

The change took longer than a minute, but Camille unfurled from Lori’s shell in record time, and again I wondered if that wasn’t due to the knowledge that Graeson was there, waiting, a whisper away if I needed him.

Back in my own body, I was still covered with blood. I showered before exiting the bathroom wearing pajama pants and a matching tank top. I found a large silver wolf curled up in my bed and realized he must have gone outside to shift while I was washing the blood of his pack mate down the drain. His change relieved pressure I hadn’t realized was coiling ever tighter in my gut as I pondered our sleeping arrangements. When I hesitated in the doorway, the wolf whined low in his throat, rested his head on his paws and gave me liquescent puppy eyes that should have looked absurd on a warg his size.

“You expect me to sleep with you?” He took up half the bed, and I wasn’t even in it yet. I’d never had a pet, never slept with an animal, and he was getting fur all over everything. Was it too late to ask for the man back? “You aren’t serious.”

His tail thumped once.

I huffed as I pulled back the covers, flipping the light off as I went. I crawled into bed and grumbled as I settled in on the sliver of mattress he’d left for me. I lay there—stiff and not really comfortable at all as I wondered if wargs got ticks or fleas and if that’s why my skin suddenly itched—and had about decided to sleep on the floor when he rested his large head over my stomach, pinning me to the bed under its weight. He released a gusty sigh, licked his lips and didn’t move again.

Positive he was sleeping, I risked rubbing one of his ears through my fingers then stroked down his spine. His fur was a contrast of downy soft and coarse hairs, and petting him soothed me. I drifted to sleep with a hand fisted in his ruff, lulled by his warmth and the sound of his breathing.

Chapter 10

The bed was empty when I woke except for the hairs stuck to my sheets and clinging to my top. Unsure if I still had company, I fumbled my way into the kitchen and found Graeson seconds from cracking eggs I hadn’t bought into a skillet I didn’t own.

I rose on my tiptoes, arms reaching high overhead, fingertips almost brushing the ceiling. “Am I still dreaming?”

He turned in time to catch my yawn. “Do you often dream about men cooking you breakfast?”