KILLIAN POV
She was out cold.
Completely f*****g asleep in my arms, her cheek smushed against my bare chest, lips parted just enough for a soft breath to leave them every few seconds. I looked down at her—messy hair, flushed cheeks, neck still marked where I’d claimed her —and felt that damn ache in my chest again. The good kind. The mine kind.
I carried her bridal style, one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, holding her close like I’d never let go. Because I wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
It had been a long day—emotionally, magically, and physically draining. But now, safe in my arms, she looked weightless. Peaceful.
The pack house door creaked softly as I pushed it open with my shoulder. The lights were dimmed, night-shift quiet. She didn’t even stir.
My lips curved.
G
