Page 13 of Shifting Hearts 1
It echoes. Every broken inhale. Every silent tear I know she’s trying to hide from me.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing again, my beast thrashing under my skin.Go to her. Fix it. Hold her.
But I don’t. I’ve ruined enough things by wanting too much.
Eventually, her breathing evens out, softening into sleep once more. The bond thrums, gentler now, tugging me back toward her like it always does. My feet move before I decide, and I end up at the edge of the bed again.
She’s curled tight, clutching the blanket like a shield. Her face is damp, her lashes clumped from tears. My gut twists. I’m a real fucking asshole.
Carefully, I sit beside her. Not touching, not close enough to wake her. Just… there.
Her scent wraps around me, clean now, faint traces of herbs and firewood mixed with something uniquely hers. It fills the hollow spaces inside me, the ones I swore no one would ever touch again.
I drop my head into my hands, elbows braced on my knees. The words scrape out of me in a whisper too quiet for her to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s not enough. Not close. But it’s all I have.
I stay there until my body aches from holding still, until sleep drags at my bones. The fire crackles low, shadows crawl along the walls, and still, I can’t make myself leave her side.
Because no matter how many times I tell myself bonds are chains, no matter how much I fight it…. I already know.
I’m hers.
SEVEN
Running From Shadows
Paris
The cabin is too quiet. Too close.
I lie awake long after Ranger’s breathing evens, listening to the fire crackle, to the weight of silence pressing down on me. His presence burns at my back, I don’t need to turn to know he’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed like a sentinel, refusing sleep for my sake.
It should comfort me. Instead, it makes the bond ache worse.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Gabriel’s face. I hear the words he spat before he left me on my knees in front of everyone.You’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.
And then Ranger’s voice, sharp and raw, telling me not to push him. The way his eyes went cold when I begged him not to decide for me. It’s too much. I can’t breathe in here.
So I wait, counting his breaths, praying he doesn’t stir as I shift carefully beneath the quilt. My legs tremble, but I grit my teeth and slide them over the edge of the bed. The wood floor is cold under my bare feet, the air biting against my skin.
One step. Then another. The door creaks softly as I ease it open, my heart pounding in my ears.
The night air slaps me awake, sharp and bracing. Stars scatter across the sky, pale silver light spilling through the trees. The forest smells of pine, damp earth, distant snow.
I breathe deep. For the first time in days, I feel something like freedom.
Wrapping my arms tight around myself, I step off the porch, the damp grass cool against my toes. My body protests, every muscle sore, every breath tight, but I keep moving. I need to prove to myself that I can. That I’m not broken.
I make it as far as the tree line before the shivers start. My vision swims, the bond humming sharp with warning. My knees buckle, and I brace myself against a trunk, panting.
“Dammit, Paris.” The growl rips through the night, low and furious.
I flinch, spinning clumsily, and there he is. Ranger. Barefoot, shirtless, storm-grey eyes blazing as he stalks toward me. His muscles ripple under the moonlight, his chest rising and falling with harsh, angry breaths.
“You think this is a game?” His voice is rough, gravel scraping over steel. He grips my shoulders before I can move, steadying me as my legs threaten to give out. The bond flares hot where his skin touches mine, a shock that makes me gasp.
