Chapter Four

The ride back was quiet.

I rested my forehead against the window, watching the world slide past in streaks of light. Roman’s presence filled the truck—steady, grounding. He didn’t speak, but I could feel him glancing at me every few seconds, like he was checking to make sure I was still breathing, still awake, still… me.

When we pulled up to the pack house, my stomach dropped.

“I don’t want to go inside yet,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me. “Why?”

“My mom,” I admitted. “She’ll ask questions.”

He nodded once, slow and understanding. Then he said, “You can sleep on my side of the house.”

My breath caught.

He didn’t say it like an invitation.

He said it like a solution.

Like he’d already decided I wasn’t facing anything alone tonight.

Inside, the house was dim and quiet. The air felt heavy with things left unsaid. Roman paused in the hallway.

“You can take the couch,” he offered.

I hesitated. The word *couch* echoed in my chest like a warning.

Like distance.

Like safety.

But safety wasn’t what I wanted.

Not tonight.

Not with everything inside me unraveling.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered.

That’s when he froze—really froze—like the words hit him somewhere he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Ellie…” His voice was rough, unsteady.

“Just tonight,” I added quickly. “Please.”

His jaw tightened. His eyes softened. And then he nodded.

“Okay.”

---

His room was dark and quiet, lit only by moonlight spilling through the window. He hesitated near the bed, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be.

I sat on the edge, suddenly aware of how loud my heartbeat sounded in the silence.

Roman moved slowly, like approaching something fragile, and sat beside me. The warmth radiating from him was intoxicating, and I could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric.

We didn’t touch.

But the space between us felt charged, alive with unspoken words and desires.

“Ellie,” he said softly, “you can talk to me.”

I stared at my hands, feeling the weight of everything I wanted to say. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

His breath hitched, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. “I know.”

I looked up sharply. “What do you mean, you know?”

He froze again, hesitation flickering across his features.

“You know something,” I whispered, my heart racing. “Don’t you?”

He closed his eyes, as if bracing himself. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

“Roman—”

“I can’t,” he said, voice breaking. “I want to. You have no idea how much I want to. But I can’t.”

The pain in his voice made my throat tighten, and I reached for him without thinking, my fingers brushing his wrist. The contact sent a jolt through me, igniting something deep within.

He inhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto mine, filled with a mix of longing and restraint.

“Roman,” I whispered, “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

His eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, I saw everything he’d been trying to hide—fear, longing, guilt, and something deeper. Something dangerous.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

He reached for a blanket, but I shook my head.

“Come on,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make it weird.”

He hesitated, then climbed into the bed beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I felt the heat radiating from him, drawing me in.

We lay stiffly on our sides, facing away from each other, the silence fragile. But the air was thick with tension, and I could feel the magnetic pull between us.

Then he spoke.

“Ellie.”

I turned to face him, our eyes locking.

He lifted his arm in a small, uncertain gesture. “Come here.”

My breath caught, anticipation swirling in my chest.

I moved toward him, unsure, until his arm wrapped gently around me, pulling me against his chest. I fit instinctively, my head settling beneath his chin. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.

His hand rested lightly on my belly, his thumb brushing against my skin in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I couldn’t ignore. I held my breath, every nerve ending alive with awareness.

We didn’t kiss.

We didn’t touch anywhere we shouldn’t.

But the closeness felt intimate in a way that scared me more than anything else had. The weight of his hand on my belly felt possessive, protective, and I could sense the tension building between us, thick and palpable.

His breathing was steady, warm, safe. But beneath that safety lay an undercurrent of desire that made my heart race.

My wolf finally relaxed, but the tension between us only intensified.

Sleep came easier than it had in days, but as I drifted off, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change.