Close Enough to Burn

The morning sun barely kissed the sky when Penelope stirred, but her eyes had never truly shut. Sleep had been a cruel ghost, forever just out of reach. The night had taken more from her than she wanted to admit, and now, in the quiet hush of dawn, everything still felt raw.

She lay there for a while, limbs tangled in the sheets, her thoughts heavier than her bones. She hadn’t cried—not really. Her body had been too stunned to mourn, her heart too twisted to unravel. All she’d done was stare at the ceiling and try to breathe around the phantom weight of Alex’s gaze.

She sat up slowly, brushing a hand down her face. The room was still dark, with just a sliver of sunlight slipping through the curtains. Daisy’s oversized shirt hung off one shoulder, smelling faintly of strawberries and fabric softener.

“I need to thank Chloe and Daisy,” she muttered to herself, dragging her legs over the side of the bed. “I must’ve scared the hell out of them.”

Cherry huffed inside her mind—quieter now, but still present. Still circling. He saw us. He knows.

Penelope tried to push the thought aside. Tried to push him aside. But Alex’s eyes haunted her memory—dark, fierce, disbelieving—and the way he’d looked at her… like he’d just stumbled across a revelation he wasn’t ready to handle.

And then he ran.

It didn’t matter that she’d felt the bond like wildfire under her skin. It didn’t matter that her wolf had practically howled with recognition.

He ran.

So she’d be fine. She’d move on. Again.

After washing up and throwing on a shirt, she stepped into the hallway. The Nightfang mansion was still half-asleep, cloaked in morning stillness, only the echo of distant footsteps reminding her she wasn’t completely alone. Even the guards were gone.

By instinct or stubbornness—or maybe fate—her feet led her to the one place she could be alone with her thoughts: the Alpha’s private study.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not unless she was cleaning—which she definitely wasn’t doing at four in the morning, wearing only a shirt.

But the door was open. Just a crack. Like it was waiting for her.

She pushed it open slowly and slipped inside.

The room was warm, inviting. Lined with towering bookshelves and rich wooden furniture that practically whispered power. Everything smelled of aged parchment and faint cologne—his cologne. Like rain on ash and something sharp beneath.

Penelope ran her fingers over the edge of the desk, breathing in the stillness. It should’ve comforted her.

But it didn’t. Because she wanted him. Okay, maybe she’d denied it to herself before—but she did. And he didn’t want her. She had to acknowledge that, even if it hurt. That the mate the Moon Goddess gave her didn’t want her.

“How long do you plan on lurking at the door, angel?” came a low voice from the shadows.

She froze.

Then slowly turned.

Alex was sitting in the leather chair in the corner, legs spread lazily, a book resting closed in one hand.

His hair was slightly damp, like he’d just come from a shower. A few strands fell over his forehead in a way that looked maddeningly effortless. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with faint veins. His jaw was clenched, like he was biting back thoughts he didn’t trust himself to say.

But it was his eyes that hit her hardest. They tracked her like prey—dark and burning, like embers on the verge of igniting.

Penelope’s throat tightened.

She tried to speak. Failed.

His gaze dropped—slow and deliberate—trailing down her body before snapping back to her face like a command.

“I wasn’t lurking,” she said finally, voice soft but steady.

“You sure?” His lip quirked. “Looked like lurking from where I was sitting.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t leave your door cracked open if you don’t want people lurking.”

A beat.

(She wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that she snuck in here at four.)

Then—he smiled. Just barely. But it hit her like thunder.

God, his smile. It was crooked and sharp and slow to bloom. Like it wasn’t meant for everyone. Like it had teeth.

“You always this mouthy in the morning, darling?” he asked.

I blushed. What’s with the pet names? He was the one who ran yesterday—why is he talking to me now?

She tilted her chin. “Only when cornered by broody Alphas who sneak up on people behind their back.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smile still on his face. Her heart was beating fast. So damn fast.

So she struck again.

“Is this a hobby, or are you just bored?”

“Tch. What a sharp mouth you have, angel,” he said, smiling and coming closer. I could feel him. “You do know that you’re talking to your boss, right? The Alpha of Nightfang.”

He came even closer and bent down. She could see all his features now, and God, he was handsome. Moon Goddess, why are you doing this to me? Why send me a confusing mate as a second chance?

He smiled at her and whispered behind her ear, voice rough and low, “We don’t want to get fired now, do we?”

God, her knees felt like jelly. Even Cherry was affected—damn right affected.

Her heart stuttered.

She could feel it again—that pulse beneath her skin, that electric ache.

And from the way Alex looked at her, like something inside him was coiled too tight, she knew he felt it too.

“Why did you run?” she asked, the words slipping free before she could catch them.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at her, jaw working.

“I didn’t run,” he said finally, quietly.

“Oh no?” Her voice trembled despite herself. “Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like running.”

Penelope’s breath caught as he stood straight. She had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

Up close, he was devastating.

The morning light kissed the edge of his cheekbone, casting shadows across his sharp features. His lips were parted—just barely. His chest rose and fell like he was holding back something animal.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

“I didn’t run,” he repeated, lower now. “I needed air.”

“You left,” she whispered.

“I had to.”

“Why?”

His hand lifted—slow, cautious—and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. The touch was featherlight, but her skin lit up beneath it.

His eyes dropped to her lips.

He leaned in, so close she could feel the warmth of his exhale against her cheek.

The silence between them tightened until it throbbed.

Penelope didn’t know who moved first—her or him. Maybe it didn’t matter. The space between them was gone.

And then—he paused.

Pulled back.

Just slightly.

Like he was afraid of what would happen if he let himself have more.

His thumb brushed her jaw. Slow. Reverent.

“You’re dangerous for me, angel,” he murmured.

“Good,” she said, breathless.

Another smile. This one softer. Like it was meant for her alone.

“Penelope,” he said her name like a secret.

She stared at him. He sized her up and down like he’d die if he didn’t have her.

And then, suddenly, all the tension snapped.

He stopped. Pulled himself back.

“You’re a coward, Alpha Alex—and forgive my language.”

So she walked out, heart still hammering.

She didn’t look back.

But she felt him watching her.

And she knew—

This was only the beginning.

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