Chapter 5

Zoe

I lean against the reception desk of Bella's Beauty Boutique, taking in the cozy salon with its pastel walls and the faint scent of lavender in the air. My rented styling station is just a few feet away, tools neatly arranged and ready for the day. I watch with amusement and exasperation as Marcus tries to fold his large frame into one of the tiny waiting area chairs. He looks absolutely ridiculous, his knees nearly touching his chin, and I have to bite back a laugh.

"You know," I say, unable to keep the teasing note out of my voice, "you don't have to sit there all day. I promise I'm not going to make a break for it."

Marcus looks up at me. "I'm fine," he insists, shifting slightly and wincing as the chair creaks ominously beneath him.

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "Suit yourself. But don't blame me when you end up with a chiropractor bill."

My mind drifts back to this morning when Marcus showed up at my apartment, looking unfairly tempting in a snug t-shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular build. I feel a flutter of heat in my belly at the memory. It's too bad I dated Liam, because that makes it kind of awkward to have such intense attraction to his brother. Still, I can't deny the electric tension that seems to crackle between us whenever we're in the same room.

As I turn to prepare for my first client, I catch a glimpse of Marcus's reflection in the mirror. It's almost... endearing, seeing this tough, no-nonsense wolf shifter looking so out of his element.

I shake my head, annoyed at myself for these thoughts. I'm still irritated by this whole situation, the fact that I need a "bodyguard" at all. But as Marcus catches my eye and gives me a small, reassuring nod, I feel some of my frustration melt away. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be as bad as I thought.

My first client arrives, a regular named Josie who's been coming to me for a few months. She raises an eyebrow at Marcus's imposing presence and grins, her eyes appreciatively scanning his muscular frame.

As I work on Josie's hair, I can feel Marcus's eyes on me. It's distracting, to say the least. Every time I glance up, I catch him watching me intently, his gaze following my movements.

"So," Josie says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "who's the hottie playing bodyguard? He's been eyeing you like a juicy steak."

I feel my cheeks heat up, grateful that Josie can't see my face. "Just a friend," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. "He's... helping me out with something."

Josie hums teasingly, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh honey, I'd let him 'help me out' any day of the week. You sure there's nothing going on there?"

I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile. "Josie, behave. It's not like that."

"If you say so," she sing-songs, clearly unconvinced. "But if you're not interested, mind if I take a shot?" I feel a sudden, unexpected twinge of possessiveness at Josie's words. "He's not really available," I say, my tone sharper than I intend. I take a breath, forcing my voice to lighten. "Besides, I think you'd find him a bit... intense for your tastes."

Josie chuckles, unperturbed. "Honey, intense is exactly my type."

I focus on finishing her hair, grateful for the distraction. As I work, I can't help but sneak glances at Marcus. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I feel a jolt of electricity run through me. There's something in his gaze – protectiveness and something deeper, more primal – that makes my breath catch.

When Josie's appointment is over, I walk her to the front. As she passes Marcus, she gives him a flirtatious wink. I feel my jaw clench involuntarily.

"See you next month, Zoe," Josie calls over her shoulder. "And maybe I'll see you around too, handsome."

Marcus nods politely, but his eyes flick immediately back to me. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel suddenly warm all over.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

I nod, not trusting my voice. As I turn back to my station to prepare for my next client, I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between us. The air feels charged, electric. I try to focus on my work, but I'm acutely aware of Marcus's presence, of every move he makes.

This is going to be a long day.

As the morning progresses, I fall into my usual rhythm, the familiar routine of cuts, colors, and styles helping to ease some of the tension I've been carrying since the BBQ. But Marcus's presence is a constant reminder that things are far from normal.

During a brief lull between clients, I notice Marcus eyeing my supplies with curiosity. "Something catch your eye?" I ask, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

He looks up, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "I was just... wondering what all these things do," he admits, gesturing to the array of styling tools and products.

I can't help but grin. "Want me to give you a crash course in hairdressing?"

To my surprise, Marcus nods. "Might as well learn something while I'm here," he says, his tone gruff but his eyes betraying a hint of genuine interest.

For the next few minutes, I find myself explaining the basics of my craft to Marcus. He listens attentively, asking surprisingly insightful questions. It's... nice, actually. Liam never showed much interest in my work beyond complimenting the end results.

"So," Marcus says, picking up a bottle of purple shampoo, "this is for...?"

"Blondes," I explain, taking the bottle from him. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. "It helps neutralize brassiness in light hair."

Marcus nods, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Makes sense. Kind of like how we use certain herbs to neutralize scents in tracking."

I blink, surprised by the comparison. "I... guess so, yeah. I never thought of it that way."

He gives me a small smile, and I feel my heart skip a beat. It's ridiculous how attractive he is when he smiles, how it softens his usually stern features.

Our moment is interrupted by the chime of my phone. I grab it, expecting another client confirmation, but instead, I see Liam's name on the screen. With a sigh, I open the message.

"Having fun playing damsel in distress?" the text reads. "Bet you're loving all the attention."

I feel a surge of irritation. Typical Liam, lashing out when he doesn't get his way. I'm about to ignore the message when another one pops up.

"Hope you and Marcus are enjoying your little bodyguard roleplay. Just remember, he's only there because he has to be."

I clench my jaw, anger bubbling up inside me. How dare he? Before I can think better of it, I type out a reply.

"Grow up, Liam. Your jealousy isn't attractive."

I hit send. I know engaging with him is only going to make things worse. But damn, it feels good to call him out.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asks, his voice laced with concern.

I look up, realizing I must be showing my anger on my face. "Yeah," I say, forcing a smile. "Just... Liam being Liam."

Marcus's expression darkens. "What did he say?"

I hesitate, not wanting to cause more drama between the brothers. But something in Marcus's eyes makes me want to be honest with him.

"Just some immature comments," I say, shrugging. "Implying that I'm enjoying being a 'damsel in distress' and... well, basically accusing us of using this situation as an excuse to hook up."

Marcus's jaw clenches, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The sound sends a shiver through me, and I'm not entirely sure it's from fear.

"I'll talk to him," Marcus says, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.

I shake my head quickly. "No, don't. It'll only make things worse. I can handle Liam."

Marcus looks like he wants to argue, but after a moment, he nods. "Alright. But if he keeps bothering you..."

"I'll let you know," I promise, touched by his protectiveness.

I've just ended things with Liam, and even though we were only dating for a few weeks—never even reaching the point of intimacy—I feel a twinge of guilt as I consider my growing attraction to Marcus. It feels wrong somehow, like I'm betraying an unspoken code.

But despite my efforts to push these thoughts aside, I can't help the way my heart quickens when Marcus is near. The pull I feel towards him is magnetic, undeniable. It's as if my body recognizes something in him that my mind is still trying to process.

As the morning rush dies down, I realize with a start that I've completely forgotten about lunch. My stomach growls audibly, and I grimace, annoyed at myself for not being more prepared.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I just... forgot to pack a lunch. I'll probably just grab something quick from the deli down the street."

To my surprise, Marcus stands up, a small smile playing at his lips. "Actually," he says, "I might have a solution for that. Give me a few minutes?"

Before I can respond, he's striding out the door, leaving me blinking in confusion. I shake my head, turning back to tidying up my station. Whatever he's up to, I'm sure it won't take long.

A few minutes later, Marcus returns, carrying a large insulated bag. The scent wafting from it makes my mouth water instantly.

"What's all this?" I ask, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

Marcus sets the bag down on the break room table. "I, uh, made lunch," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "For both of us. I figured you might not have time to prep anything, with everything going on."

I'm speechless for a moment, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You... made lunch? For us?"

He nods, starting to unpack the bag. "Nothing fancy, just some grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad. Oh, and I brought some fresh fruit for dessert."

"Marcus, this is... amazing," I breathe, taking in the spread. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

As he lays out the meal, I can't help but notice how good he looks. His flannel shirt has the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned, muscular forearms. They flex as he moves, and I find myself mesmerized by the play of muscles under his skin. It's unfair how attractive he is, especially in this soft, domestic moment.

He shrugs, but I can see a pleased smile tugging at his lips. "It's no trouble. I enjoy cooking, and... well, you deserve a good meal."

As we dig into the food, I can't help but moan in appreciation. "This is delicious," I say between bites. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Marcus's expression softens, a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes. "After our parents died, I had to take care of Liam. Learned pretty quick that we couldn't live on takeout and frozen dinners. So, I taught myself."

I reach out, placing my hand on his arm without thinking. "I'm sorry about your parents," I say softly. "That must have been really hard."

He nods, his hand briefly covering mine. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through me. "It was. But we got through it. And hey, at least I picked up some useful skills along the way."

I bite my lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "I... I know what it's like to lose your parents," I admit quietly. "That's how I ended up in foster care."

Marcus's eyes widen slightly, and I see a flash of understanding in them. "I didn't know that," he says softly. "I'm sorry, Zoe. That must have been tough."

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. "It was. But like you said, we got through it." I pause, then add, "At least Liam had you. I... I didn't have anyone."

Marcus reaches out, squeezing my hand gently. "You have people now," he says, his voice low and intense. "You're not alone anymore, Zoe."

I look up at him, surprised by the depth of emotion in his eyes. It hits me suddenly how much we have in common, how much we've both been through. There's a connection here that I never expected to find.

We eat in companionable silence for a few moments, the tension from earlier dissipating.

"You know," I say, unable to keep the teasing note out of my voice, "for a big, tough wolf, you're surprisingly... domestic."

Marcus looks up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What, you think all we do is hunt and howl at the moon? I'll have you know I make a mean spinach quiche."

I laugh, the sound echoing through the small break room. "Now that I'd like to see."

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged with possibility. I find myself leaning in slightly, drawn to him like a magnet.

Marcus clears his throat, breaking the moment. "You, uh, you've got a little..." he gestures to his own face.

Embarrassed, I grab a napkin, dabbing at my mouth. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "Here, let me."

Before I can react, Marcus reaches out, his thumb gently brushing the corner of my mouth. The touch is electric. Our eyes lock, and suddenly I'm acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lean in just a little further...

Without thinking, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. For a split second, Marcus freezes, and I worry I've made a terrible mistake. But then, with a groan that seems to come from the very depths of his being, he kisses me back, his hand cradling my face with a gentleness that belies the fierce intensity of his kiss.

This kiss is a consuming fire, igniting every nerve ending in my body. Marcus's touch is a slow burn, a deliberate and intoxicating exploration that leaves me breathless.

Just as I'm losing myself in the sensation, Marcus abruptly pulls away. His expression shifts, a deep frown etching itself onto his face.

"This is wrong," he says, his voice cold and distant. "You were just barely dating my brother. We shouldn't be doing this."

I feel like I've been doused with ice water. The warmth from moments ago vanishes, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest. "I... I'm sorry," I stammer, embarrassment and hurt warring inside me. "I thought... I thought we were feeling something between us."

Marcus shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. "It doesn't matter what we feel. This can't happen."

Anger flares up, replacing the hurt. "Fine," I snap, pushing away from the table. "Message received, loud and clear."

I turn away, trying to compose myself. "So, when exactly are we going to be done with this whole bodyguard thing?" I ask, my voice tight with suppressed emotion. "What's the pack doing to catch whoever is leaving these threats?"

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Ryan, the alpha, has some people looking into it," he explains. "They're tracking down leads, trying to figure out who might be behind this."

"And why aren't you involved in that?" I press. "Aren't you supposed to be this big, important beta?"

"I'm good at guarding you because of my military background," Marcus says, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "But when it comes to investigating, there are others in the pack who are more suited to that kind of work."

I roll my eyes. "Well, maybe they should work faster. These threats are probably nothing anyway."

Marcus's expression darkens. "Don't say that," he growls. "This is serious, Zoe. You need to take your safety more seriously."

"I don't know why you care," I snap back, the hurt from his rejection fueling my words.

Marcus opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "You know what? I'm done eating. I'm going back to work." Without waiting for a response, I storm out of the break room, leaving Marcus and the remnants of our lunch behind.

As I return to my workstation, my mind is a full of conflicting emotions. The taste of Marcus's kiss lingers on my lips, a reminder of what could have been. But his rejection stings, sharp and raw. I can't help but feel foolish for thinking there could be something between us. I catch him watching me occasionally, his expression unreadable. It's maddening.

As my last client of the day leaves, I begin cleaning up, pointedly avoiding Marcus's gaze. The tension between us is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. I'm just about to suggest we call it a day when I notice something on my car through the salon window.

My heart drops as I see a piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper. Without thinking, I bolt out the door, ignoring Marcus's shout of surprise. As I reach my car, I snatch the paper, my hands shaking as I unfold it.

The message is short, but it sends a chill down my spine: "YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER"

I feel the blood drain from my face as the reality of the situation hits me. This isn't just some harmless prank. Someone is really out to get me.

"Zoe!" Marcus's voice cuts through my panic. He's by my side in an instant, his hand on my arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, I hand him the note. His expression darkens as he reads it, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "This changes things," he says, his voice tight with anger and concern. "I'm staying with you tonight."

I blink, taken aback by his sudden declaration. "What? No, that's not necessary. I can take care of myself."

Marcus shakes his head, his expression brooking no argument. "This isn't up for debate, Zoe. Whoever's behind this is escalating, and they're getting bold. I'm not leaving you alone."

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my lips as I see the genuine concern in his eyes. Despite my usual fierce independence, I find myself nodding. "Okay," I say softly, surprised by how relieved I feel at the prospect of not being alone.

Marcus's shoulders relax slightly, and he gives me a small, reassuring smile. "Good. I actually have an overnight bag in my truck, just in case something like this happened."

I can't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Always prepared, huh?"

He shrugs. "It's the military training. Never hurts to be ready for anything."

As we head back into the salon to gather my things, I find myself stealing glances at Marcus. The events of the day swirl in my mind—the kiss, the rejection, and now this new threat. It's all so confusing, and having him stay the night is only going to complicate things further.