Page 31 of Pack Obsession

I should leave. I should walk away before I do something unforgivable, but the moonlight paints her skin in silver, and I’m transfixed by the way her chest rises and falls, by the flutter of her eyelashes, and by the small sounds she makes as she settles deeper into sleep. Every detail feeds an obsession I know is taking root in my bones.

If we hadn’t taken this job, if we hadn’t intercepted that Nexus transport... The thought of her in their hands, or worse, back in Julian’s, makes something snap inside me. The need topossess wars with the need to protect until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

I watch her sleep, memorizing every curve, every shadow, every breath. I know I won’t leave—can’t leave. Not when she’s like this, soft and unguarded. I’ll stay until dawn breaks, until she opens those chocolate eyes and reminds me of all the reasons I shouldn’t want her.

But for now, in the darkness, I can admit the truth that’s been carving itself into my soul—I would tear apart anyone who tried to take her from me, would burn down cities, topple governments. Whatever it takes to keep her safe.

This obsession terrifies me, but not enough to make me walk away.

She shifts in her sleep, a small sound escaping those tempting lips, and my entire body tenses in response. I could wake her now, show her exactly what she does to me.

Instead, I stay motionless in the darkness.

"Sweet dreams," I whisper, my voice rough with promise. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

Two hours crawl by, each minute marked by the steady rise and fall of her chest. I’ve claimed the leather armchair in the corner, able to reach the bed if needed, far enough to maintain some facade of control. The whiskey in my glass burns less than the need coursing through my veins. I’ve been cataloguing every small movement, every soft sound she makes in her sleep, like a man possessed. The way her fingers occasionally twitch against the pillow. The slight furrow that appears between her brows before smoothing out again. The quiet sighs.

She stirs, the sheets rustling. I stare at her, transfixed. First, her breathing changes, becoming shorter and lighter. Then her fingers curl into the pillow, and her head turns slightly. A small sound escapes her throat that makes my blood heat. Finally, those lids flutter open, unfocused, until they land on me.

She startles like a spooked deer, yanking the blanket to her chest. "What are you—" Her voice cracks with sleep, and she swallows hard. "Are you watching me sleep?"

The fear in her words has me bristling.

"You screamed," I say, keeping my tone low, soothing. "I was in the hallway and thought someone was killing you. Broke down your damn door to get to you." My eyes flick to the splintered frame. I’ll have to fix that tomorrow. Not that it matters. I have no intention of leaving her alone again.

She blinks, rubbing sleep from her eyes with delicate fingers I want to taste. I track the movement, helpless not to notice how small her hands are, how easily they would fit in mine. The gentle sweep of her eyelashes against her cheeks makes something fierce twist in my chest.

"But why are you still here?" She clutches the blanket tighter. That small, defensive gesture makes me want to show her she has nothing to fear from me—and everything to fear from the world outside. From the monsters who would hurt her. Break her. Try to own her in all the wrong ways.

I lean forward, setting my drink by the foot of the chair. My elbows rest on my thighs as I study her, memorizing the way her white-blonde hair tumbles in sleep-mussed waves around her face.

"Do you really think I can leave you?" The words come out rougher than intended, scraped raw with honesty. "When you were screaming for that fucking monster Julian not to hurt you? Just hearing that has me want to go fucking berserk on him and murder him."

Her eyes widen, a slight tremor in her hand before she stills it. "You... you can’t do that."

"Why?" The question comes out like a growl. "You still love him?" The possibility has my gut twisting. I can’t look away fromher. Even with her hair a mess and sleep still clouding her eyes, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

"I never loved him, okay?" she snaps, and that flash of fire speeds up my pulse. There’s steel beneath her softness. "The guy’s a fucking lunatic, and I hate him... but I don’t wish death on anyone." She runs a hand through her tangled hair. "Not even him."

My fingers tighten on the armrests until the leather creaks. "He hurt you." Not a question. The evidence is written in her nightmares, in the asking us for protection, in the haunted look that sometimes crosses her face when she thinks no one’s looking. "I heard what you said in your sleep. About knives."

"That’s not…" She looks away, and I track the movement of her throat as she swallows. A slight flush colors her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or remembered fear, I can’t tell. "It’s complicated."

"Doesn’t seem complicated to me." I want to cross the room, to tilt her chin up and make her look at me, to show her how an Alpha should treat what’s his, but I stay seated, giving her the space she needs while every instinct screams to claim, to possess, to protect. "He hurt you. He deserves to suffer."

She shivers, and there’s a slight dilation of her pupils. "You don’t even know me. Why do you care?"

That pulls a deep laugh from my chest. I lean back, letting her see exactly the impact she has on me—the hunger, the need, the possession. Let her see the monster she’s awakened.

"Because every instinct I have screams to protect you. To keep you safe. Even from your dreams." I roll my shoulder, fighting the urge to go to her. "Because the thought of anyone hurting you leaves me ready to tear the world apart."

"You don’t need to–"

"I’m not going anywhere." I settle deeper into the chair, making it clear this isn’t up for discussion.

She stares at me for a long time, and I see the conflict dancing on her expression.

"I’m too tired for this." She collapses back against the pillows with a frustrated sound that does nothing to help my self-control. "I just need sleep." Her eyes close, then open again, finding me still watching. Always watching. "I’m curious," she says suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow. The position pushes her breasts together, drawing my attention to her cleavage. "You three seem pretty well off by the looks of this place. So, why are you doing heists and stuff like that for money?"

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