By eleven-fifty, the quiet peace of the bedroom is shattered by the ticking clock.
Locke pulls on his tactical gear again, his expression hardening back into the cold, calculating man easily capable of violence, as he checks his sidearm one final time.
The contrast between the man who just f****d me so fiercely on the mattress and the ruthless enforcer strapping heavy weapons to his chest makes my breath catch in my throat. This is the man who protects our world… a deadly shield standing between our home and the wolves waiting out in the dark.
I wrap my silk robe tightly around myself, tying the belt firm at my waist. I reach over, resting my hand against his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against my palm, anchoring myself to his touch one last time.
“You come back to me,” I repeat s
