I already knew he had slipped into my space in the night. The bond awareness between us had sharpened over time, like an instinct that no longer needed sight to confirm presence. So when I woke beside Elliot in the early light, I wasn't startled—only quietly aware that an Alpha always moved like shadow and silence when he chose to.
Winter sunlight filtered through the glass walls of the penthouse, turning the room into a warm, golden den suspended above the city. The kind of light that softened even pack tension. I shifted carefully, easing myself away from him without disturbing his sleep. Elliot's breathing remained steady, deep, the kind of controlled rhythm only an Alpha in full rest could maintain.
For a moment, I just watched him.
It wasn't strategic or intentional. It was instinct.
