Chapter 7

Marcus

The hum of machinery finally dies down as I finish the last system reset. Exhaustion settles into my bones, but a sense of satisfaction lingers. Crisis averted. I roll my shoulders, trying to work out the tension, and glance at my watch. 3:47 AM. Christ.

I look up, ready to tell Zoe we can head out, when the words die in my throat. She's curled up in my office chair, fast asleep. Her pink hair falls across her face, one hand tucked under her cheek. She looks so... peaceful. Vulnerable.

A wave of warmth washes over me as I watch her sleep. Working alongside Zoe tonight has been... enlightening. Her quick mind, her adaptability, the way she threw herself into helping without complaint—it's all incredibly attractive. I've known she was my mate since I first caught her scent, but now, after spending this time with her, I realize just how perfect she is for me.

It's becoming harder to resist the pull I feel towards her. Every fiber of my being wants to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and never let go. But I can't. I won't betray Liam that way, no matter how right it feels.

And yet... a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me of Liam's absence tonight. I got him this job at the construction site, pulled strings to make it happen. And he couldn't even be bothered to respond to an emergency. It's not the first time, either. The last couple of years, Liam's been... different. More selfish. More entitled. I've always taken care of him, but lately, it feels like I'm enabling bad behavior rather than helping.

I run a hand through my hair, conflicted. On one side, there's my mate—beautiful, capable, and everything I've ever wanted. On the other, there's my brother—frustrating and immature, but still family. The choice should be clear, but it's harder than ever at this moment, with Zoe right in front of me.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. For now, I need to focus on getting us both home safely. The rest... well, I'll have to figure that out later.

I debate waking her, but exhaustion is etched into the lines of her face. No, let her rest. Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm moving towards her. Carefully, I slide one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She stirs slightly as I lift her, but doesn't wake, instead nuzzling into my chest with a soft sigh.

The rightness of it hits me like a punch to the gut. She fits against me perfectly, as if she was made to be there. My wolf howls in agreement, urging me to hold her closer, to never let go.

I push the thoughts away, focusing on navigating through the trailer and out to my truck. As I settle her into the passenger seat, I can't help but brush a strand of hair from her face. She looks so young in sleep, reminding me of the age gap between us. Another reason this – whatever this is – can't happen.

The drive back to her apartment is quiet, punctuated only by Zoe's soft breathing. I find myself stealing glances at her, drinking in the sight of her relaxed features. It's a far cry from the guarded expressions she usually wears around me.

When we arrive, I debate waking her again. But the thought of disturbing her peaceful sleep feels wrong somehow. I carefully reach into her purse, fishing out her keys. I find myself once again lifting her into my arms, carrying her up to her apartment.

As I step into Zoe's bedroom, her scent envelops me. The room is small but cozy, filled with personal touches that speak to her creative spirit. A colorful tapestry hangs on one wall, while the dresser is cluttered with an array of beauty products and trinkets. My eyes are drawn to a framed photo on her nightstand—Zoe, smiling brightly, her arms around an elderly woman I don't recognize.

The bed is unmade, the sheets rumpled and inviting. I can almost imagine Zoe curled up there, her pink hair splayed across the pillow. The urge to join her, to wrap myself around her soft, warm body, is almost overwhelming. My wolf stirs restlessly, wanting nothing more than to claim her, to make her ours.

As I lay her gently on her bed, a wave of longing washes over me. I want to crawl in beside her, to hold her close and breathe in her scent. But I can't. I won't.

I turn to leave, my resolve wavering with each step. Just as I reach the doorway, a sleepy voice stops me in my tracks.

"Marcus?" Zoe murmurs, her eyes barely open. "Stay?"

And just like that, my carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. I turn back, caught in the pull of her gaze. Even half-asleep, her eyes hold a power over me I can't explain.

"Zoe," I say, my voice low and rough. "You should rest."

She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow. The movement causes her shirt to slip, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of shoulder. I force my eyes back to her face, swallowing hard.

"Please?" she murmurs, patting the space beside her. "Just... stay."

I know I should refuse. I should walk away, maintain the professional distance I've been clinging to. But my feet are already moving, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes Zoe in warm light, accentuating the delicate curve of her neck and the inviting fullness of her lips. As I ease myself onto the edge of the bed, her scent envelops me—a light vanilla. My body responds instantly, a low growl threatening to escape my throat.

I force myself to look away, but my eyes are drawn back to her like magnets. The rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her tank top clings to her curves—it's torture of the sweetest kind. My fingers itch to trace the line of her collarbone, to tangle in her hair and pull her close.

"Alright," I concede, my voice rougher than I intended.

I bend down, unlacing my boots and slipping them off. The carpet is soft beneath my feet as I pad towards the bed. Hesitating for just a moment, I lower myself onto the mattress, feeling it give under my weight. I stretch out, hyper-aware of every inch between Zoe and me.

The mattress dips as Zoe shifts closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from her body. It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch her, to claim her as mine. The wolf inside me howls in frustration, recognizing its mate so near yet forbidden.

As we lay in charged silence, I'm acutely aware of every small movement, every breath. The soft brush of her arm against mine sends electricity coursing through my veins. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as I fight the urge to pull her into my arms.

Liam's face flashes in my mind, a painful reminder of why I can't give in to this overwhelming desire. But with each passing moment, his importance fades. The bond I feel with Zoe grows stronger, threatening to overshadow everything else. I find myself caring less and less about my brother's hurt feelings, consumed by the need to make Zoe mine.

I turn to face her, our eyes locking. The depth of emotion I see reflected there nearly undoes me. In that moment, I know I'm fighting a losing battle against my heart.

Zoe smiles, a soft, sleepy thing that tugs at something deep in my chest. She settles back down, curling onto her side to face me. I lay rigid, hyper-aware of every point where our bodies almost touch.

"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes already drifting closed. "For everything. For keeping me safe."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. The trust in her voice, the vulnerability... it's almost more than I can bear. I want to gather her in my arms, to shield her from every threat, real or imagined. Instead, I simply nod, not trusting my voice.

As Zoe's breathing evens out, I allow myself to relax slightly. I study her face, memorizing every curve and plane. The delicate arch of her eyebrows, the soft curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips... she's beautiful in a way that goes beyond mere physical attraction.

My wolf whines, urging me closer. To my horror, I realize I'm leaning in, drawn by her scent. I jerk back, cursing myself silently. This is dangerous territory.

I should leave. Now that she's asleep, there's no reason for me to stay. But as I start to rise, Zoe stirs, reaching out in her sleep. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining, and I freeze.

The contact sends a wave of warmth through me, settling something restless in my soul. It feels right in a way I can't explain, can't fight against. With a resigned sigh, I ease myself back onto the bed, careful not to disturb her.

Just a few more minutes, I tell myself. Then I'll go.

But as the minutes tick by, my own exhaustion begins to catch up with me. The warmth of Zoe's hand in mine, the soft sound of her breathing... it's soothing in a way I haven't experienced in years.

My eyes grow heavy, and I find myself fighting to stay awake. I should move, should put some distance between us. But Zoe's grip tightens slightly in her sleep, as if sensing my intention to leave.

Just a few more minutes, I think hazily. Just until I'm sure she's okay...

The last thing I register before sleep claims me is the comforting weight of Zoe's hand in mine, and the realization that I'm in far deeper than I ever intended to be.

???

I wake with a start, the morning light filtering through the gauzy curtains of Zoe's bedroom. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the scent of vanilla and the warmth of a body next to mine throwing me off balance. Then it all comes rushing back—the long night at the construction site, the drive back to Zoe's apartment, the way she looked at me with those trusting eyes and asked me to stay.

Zoe is still asleep, her breaths even and deep. I'm acutely aware of her hand, small and warm, tucked into mine. The simple contact sends a jolt of desire coursing through me, a stark reminder of just how much I want her.

I should leave. I should extract myself from this tangled web of temptation and go home to face the music with Liam. But as I watch Zoe sleep, her pink hair fanned out across the pillow, all rational thought flees my mind.

Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a sleepy clarity that takes my breath away. "Marcus," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep. "You're still here."

There's a question in her tone, a hint of vulnerability that calls to something primal within me. "I am," I reply, my voice rough with unspoken desire.

A small smile plays on her lips as she stretches languidly, the sheets slipping down to reveal the smooth expanse of her shoulder. "Good," she says simply, her hazel eyes locked onto mine.

The air between us crackles with tension, a silent acknowledgment of the pull that's been building since the moment we met. I know I should resist, should honor the bonds of brotherhood and pack loyalty. But as Zoe's hand traces a path up my arm, all thoughts of duty and honor fly out the window.

"Zoe," I begin, intending to voice my hesitation, my internal struggle. But the words die in my throat as she leans in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss so sweet, so tentative, that it nearly undoes me.

Any semblance of control I had left shatters in that moment. I deepen the kiss, my tongue slipping past her lips to tangle with hers. She tastes like morning and promises, a heady combination that ignites a fire within me.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as our kiss grows in intensity. I groan, the sound vibrating between us, as her leg hitches over my hip, aligning our bodies in a way that leaves no doubt about her desire.

"Marcus," she breathes, her voice a plea for more. "Please."

It's all the invitation I need. My hands roam over her body, exploring the curves and dips that I've been aching to touch. I cup her breast through the thin fabric of her tank top, my thumb teasing her nipple into a hard peak. She arches into my touch with a gasp, her body begging for more.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I growl, my lips tracing a path down her neck. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

My wolf howls, urging me to claim her, to make her ours in every sense of the word. But even in the heat of the moment, I know we have to be careful. We're playing with fire, dancing on the edge of a blade.

I slip my hand beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts, my fingers seeking out the heat between her legs. She's already wet for me, her body ready and willing. I stroke her gently, teasing her entrance before sliding a finger inside.

Zoe moans, her hips bucking against my hand. "More," she demands, her voice thick with desire. "I need more of you."

I oblige, adding another finger and curling them in a way that has her crying out in pleasure. "That's it, Zoe," I murmur, watching her face as I drive her higher. "Let go for me, love."

Her orgasm hits her like a wave, her body trembling beneath me as she cries out my name. But I'm not done with her yet. I want to see her fall apart again, to hear her scream my name as she comes undone.

With a gentleness that belies the urgency of my own need, I trail kisses down her stomach, pulling off her shorts and panties in one swift motion. I settle myself between her legs, my breath hot against her sensitive flesh.

"Marcus, you don't have to—" she starts, but I cut her off with a look.

"I want to," I say firmly. "Let me taste you, Zoe."

And with that, I lower my mouth to her pussy, my tongue flicking against her clit in a rhythm that has her arching off the bed. I grip her hips, holding her in place as I feast on her, my moans of approval vibrating against her sensitive flesh.

"Oh God, Marcus," she cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

I have no intention of stopping. I'm relentless, my tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive her wild. I can feel her climbing higher, her body tensing as she chases her release.

When she comes again, it's with a scream that I swallow down, my name a mantra on her lips. I slow my movements, lapping at her gently as she rides out the aftershocks of her orgasm.

As I move back up to cradle her in my arms, I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the sated, dazed look on her face. But it's tempered by the knowledge of what comes next. The real world is waiting for us, complete with all its complications and consequences.

For now, though, I'm content to hold her, to feel her heart beating in time with mine. We'll face the music soon enough. But in this moment, it's just Zoe and me, and the future can wait.

The buzz of my phone shatters our peaceful moment. Zoe and I are tangled together, her head resting on my chest as I absently stroke her hair. I reach for the device, trying not to disturb her too much.

When I see Liam's name on the screen, reality comes crashing back with brutal force.

"Where are you?" Liam's text reads. "You didn't come home last night."

Guilt slams into me like a physical blow. Christ. What have I done?

I tense involuntarily, and Zoe lifts her head to look at me, concern etched across her features. "Marcus? What's wrong?"

I swallow hard, showing her the screen. "It's Liam," I say, my voice rough.

Zoe's eyes widen. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her.

"What are you going to tell him?" she asks softly.

I run a hand through my hair, conflict tearing me apart. My duty to the pack, my loyalty to Liam, the oath I swore as Beta – they all demand one course of action. But my heart, my wolf, every instinct I possess... they're all screaming for me to stay right here, to never let Zoe go.

"Fuck," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Zoe reaches out, her hand warm on my arm. "Marcus," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "We need to talk about this. About us."

I meet her gaze, seeing the same longing and uncertainty I feel reflected in her eyes. She's right, of course. But the weight of my responsibilities, of my betrayal, sits heavy on my shoulders.

"I know," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't know how to reconcile this with everything else."

But I know I don't want to give her up.