Chapter 8

Zoe

As I wipe down my station, I can't help but think about Marcus. And not just because he's a constant presence in the salon.

Last night's work emergency brought us closer than I ever expected. Seeing Marcus in his element, competent and focused, stirred something deep within me. We worked side by side for hours, and I felt a connection forming that went beyond physical attraction. The way he valued my input, his quiet strength, the brief moments our hands would brush—it all felt so right.

And this morning... I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. The tenderness in his eyes, the way he made me feel cherished and desired all at once. I've never experienced intimacy like that before. It wasn't just physical—there was an emotional depth that took my breath away.

I find myself hoping, tentatively, that this could work out. I know there are complications—Liam, the pack dynamics, our age difference. But the way I feel when I'm with Marcus... it's like coming home to a place I didn't even know I was missing. I've never felt this way about any man I've dated before.

"Thanks so much, Zoe!" my last client of the day, Betty, gushes as she admires her freshly styled hair. "You always know exactly what I need."

I smile warmly. "It's my pleasure, Betty. You look gorgeous."

As Betty gathers her things, her eyes flick to Marcus, who's been a silent sentinel all afternoon. "Your... bodyguard still here, huh?" she asks.

"Just a precaution," I assure her. "Nothing to worry about."

After seeing Betty out, I turn back to find Marcus's dark hazel eyes scanning the salon before settling on me.

"Another successful day of beautification?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his deep voice.

I nod, focusing on tidying up my workspace to hide the effect his presence has on me. "All quiet on the beauty front," I quip, falling into the easy banter we've developed over the course of the day. "No rogue eyebrow trimmers or anything."

A ghost of a smile flickers across Marcus's face, and I feel a small thrill of victory. Even after hours together, getting him to crack even the slightest expression still feels like an accomplishment.

"Good to hear," he says, taking a step closer. The scent of pine and something uniquely him washes over me, and I have to resist the urge to lean in closer. "Ready to call it a day?"

Just then, Marcus's phone rings, shattering the moment.

"Excuse me," he mutters, stepping outside to take the call.

I finish neatening my station, all the while acutely aware of Marcus's presence just beyond the door. When he returns, his face is grim.

"Zoe, we need to talk," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"What's going on?"

"That was Ryan. There's been a development with the Howling Pines situation. We need to go to the pack house."

A knot forms in my stomach. "We? As in, me too?"

He nods grimly. "It's not safe for you to stay here alone. Ryan wants all unmated females under protection until we sort this out."

Frustration wells up inside me as I process Marcus' words. I'd gotten so used to his presence, to the comfort of having him around, that I'd almost forgotten why we were spending so much time together in the first place. The reality of the threat comes crashing back, and with it, a sense of helplessness I despise.

"I just... I hate feeling like my life isn't my own anymore," I say, my voice softer now. "I know the threats are serious, but the idea of being constantly watched, constantly protected... it's suffocating."

Marcus's eyes soften with understanding. "I know it's not easy, Zoe. Believe me, I wish things were different. But your safety has to come first right now."

I sigh, running a hand through my pink hair. "I get it. I do. It's just... I've always prided myself on being independent, you know? On handling things on my own. This feels like a step backwards."

"It's not forever," Marcus says gently, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "And letting people help doesn't make you any less capable or independent. It just means you have people who care about you."

His words hit home, and I feel some of my frustration dissipate. "Okay," I concede, though I can't quite keep the reluctance out of my voice. "I'll try to be more... cooperative. But I'm still not thrilled about it."

"Noted," Marcus says, the ghost of a smile returning. "Now, let's go."

When we arrive, the pack house is a hive of activity. Wolves in both human and shifted forms dart back and forth, their urgency palpable. Marcus leads me inside, his hand hovering near the small of my back, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his palm.

Ryan meets us in the foyer, his usually calm demeanor replaced by barely contained agitation. "Good, you're here," he says, nodding at us. "We've got a situation. Both Hannah and Chloe received envelopes with candid photos of them. I'm done with these threats."

Marcus tenses beside me. "What's the plan?"

Ryan's jaw clenches. "We're going to do some reconnaissance on the Howling Pines Pack. I want to prove they're behind this so we can put an end to it once and for all."

"Are we engaging?" Marcus asks, his voice low and serious.

Ryan shakes his head. "Not necessarily. This is strictly intel-gathering. But if something happens..." He leaves the sentence hanging, his meaning clear.

I swallow hard, anxiety churning in my stomach. "What about me?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

Ryan's eyes soften as he looks at me. "You'll stay here, Zoe. It's the safest place for you right now."

I want to argue, to insist that I can take care of myself, but the gravity in Ryan's eyes stops me. Whatever's happening, it's serious.

"Okay," I concede reluctantly. "But I want updates. And don't think this means I'm okay with being sidelined."

A ghost of a smile flickers across Ryan's face. "Wouldn't dream of it," he says, before turning back to Marcus. "Get ready. We leave in thirty."

As Ryan walks away, I turn to Marcus, a lump forming in my throat. "Be careful out there, okay?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'd hate to have to break in a new protector."

Marcus's eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I see a swirl of emotions I can't quite decipher. "I'll come back," he says, his voice low and intense. "I promise."

I nod, understanding the weight of the situation. "Go," I say softly. "Do what you need to do."

He hesitates for a moment, his hand briefly squeezing mine before he reluctantly steps away. I watch as he strides down the hallway, his broad shoulders tense with unspoken worry.

As Marcus disappears around a corner, I'm left feeling a bit lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. But I don't have long to dwell on it. Two women approach, their warm smiles instantly putting me at ease.

"You must be Zoe," the taller one says. "I'm Hannah, and this is Chloe. We thought you might like some company while Marcus is busy."

Grateful for their kindness, I return their smiles. "That would be great, actually. This is all a bit overwhelming." I turn to Chloe, recognition dawning. "Oh, Chloe! We met briefly at the pack BBQ, right? It's nice to see you again."

Chloe nods, her smile brightening. "That's right! I'm glad you remembered. It was a busy day, wasn't it?"

We end up in a cozy sitting room, cups of tea warming our hands as we talk. Despite the attempt at casual conversation, there's an undercurrent of tension in the air. Our eyes keep darting to the windows, and every unexpected noise makes us jump.

"So, you and Marcus, huh?" Hannah says, trying to lighten the mood, but her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

I nearly choke on my tea. "What? No... I mean, he's just protecting me because of the threats."

Chloe gives me a look, her fingers nervously tapping against her mug. "Honey, I've seen the way he looks at you. That's not just duty."

My cheeks burn, and I stare into my cup, watching the steam curl upwards. "It's complicated," I mutter.

"Isn't it always?" Hannah says, her voice tinged with worry. "But seriously, Zoe, how do you feel about him?"

I bite my lip, considering. How do I feel about Marcus? The gruff, overly serious wolf shifter who's turned my world upside down? The man whose rare smiles make my heart race and whose touch sends electricity through my body?

"I... I don't know," I admit finally. "He infuriates me sometimes, with his bossiness and his overprotectiveness. But then he'll do something unexpectedly kind, or I'll catch him looking at me when he thinks I won't notice, and I just..."

I trail off, unable to find the words to describe the emotions Marcus stirs in me.

Hannah leans forward, her expression turning serious. "Look, Zoe, we know you're not officially pack, but you're one of us now. And with everything that's been happening..."

"The threats," I finish for her. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here, right?"

Chloe nods, her brown eyes wide behind her glasses. "It's scary," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've always felt safe here, but now..."

I reach out and squeeze her hand, trying to offer comfort even as my own anxiety rises. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Ryan and the others will figure this out."

As I say it, I realize I want to believe it, but doubt lingers. Despite my initial resistance to being here, there's a sense of security in knowing the pack has my back. And Marcus...

Hours pass as we continue to talk, our conversation drifting from topic to topic, a desperate attempt to distract ourselves from the looming threat. We discuss everything from our favorite books to childhood memories, but the tension never fully dissipates. Every so often, one of us will glance at the clock or the door, wondering when we'll hear news about the mission. The weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the air, even as we try to maintain a facade of normalcy.

My thoughts are interrupted by a commotion downstairs. We exchange glances and rush to the window. In the fading light, I can make out a group of figures stumbling towards the house. My heart leaps into my throat as I recognize Marcus's broad shoulders, his arm slung around another wolf for support.

"They're back," Hannah whispers, but I'm already running for the door.

I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding. As I reach the foyer, the front door bursts open. The scene that greets me is one of chaos and blood.

Marcus staggers in, his shirt torn and stained red. His face is a mask of pain and fury, his eyes wild. When he sees me, something in his expression shifts.

"Zoe," he growls, his voice rough with pain and something else – something primal that makes my skin tingle.

I rush forward, heedless of the others around us. "Marcus, oh my god. Are you okay?"

He grunts in response, his eyes never leaving mine. I can see his wolf just beneath the surface, agitated and protective. As I reach out to steady him, his nostrils flare, and a low rumble emanates from his chest.

Ryan appears at Marcus's side, his expression tight with concern. "Marcus, you need to calm down. Your wolf—"

But Marcus isn't listening. His focus is entirely on me, his grip on my arm almost painful. "You're safe," he mutters, more to himself than to me.

I nod, trying to ignore the way my body is reacting to his touch, his scent. "I'm fine. But you're hurt. We need to get you cleaned up."

Ryan clears his throat, and I suddenly become aware of the tension in the room. The other wolves are watching us warily, clearly unsettled by Marcus's behavior.

"Zoe," Ryan says carefully, "maybe it would be best if you went back upstairs."

Marcus's growl deepens at this suggestion. "No," he snarls. "She stays with me."

I look at Ryan, seeing the understanding dawn in his eyes. He gives a slight nod. "Alright," he concedes. "Marcus, take Zoe to your place. You'll both be safer there."

As we start to leave, I turn to Marcus, concern etching my features. "Are you sure you're okay to drive? You've been through a lot tonight."

Marcus's eyes meet mine, a fierce protectiveness blazing in their depths. His voice is low and gravelly when he speaks, tinged with something primal. "I'm fine. I promise. I would never let anything happen to you, Zoe. Never."

The intensity of his words leaves me breathless. I nod, unable to look away from his penetrating gaze.

As we make our way to Marcus's truck, I can feel the eyes of the pack on us. But all I can focus on is the heat of Marcus's body next to mine, the way his hand hovers protectively at the small of my back.

The drive to Marcus's house is tense, filled with unspoken words and simmering emotions. When we finally arrive, I help him inside.

"Sit," I command, gesturing to the couch. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Marcus obeys, his eyes never leaving me as I move around his kitchen, searching for supplies. When I return, he's shirtless, and I have to force myself not to stare at his chiseled chest and abs, now marred by angry red scratches and bruises.

"This might sting," I warn as I begin cleaning his wounds. Marcus hisses but doesn't pull away.

As I work, the tension between us builds. I can feel his eyes on me, intense and hungry. My fingers tremble slightly as I apply antiseptic to a particularly nasty gash on his bicep.

"What happened out there?" I ask softly, trying to distract myself from our proximity. "Did you learn anything?"

Marcus sighs heavily. "Not as much as we'd hoped. We showed up at the Howling Pines pack house – it's basically just Theo's ranch. There were more pack members there than we expected, and we got caught."

I nod, encouraging him to continue as I move to clean another wound.

"Ryan ended up accusing Theo of threatening the women," Marcus explains, wincing as I dab at a particularly tender spot. "Theo denied it, of course. But by then, emotions were already running high. Before we knew it, both packs were in a full-on fist fight."

"That explains all this," I murmur, gesturing to his injuries.

Marcus nods grimly. "Yeah. We all got pretty beat up. Eventually, both groups just... retreated. We didn't really resolve anything."

I frown, processing this information as I continue tending to his wounds. The situation seems to be escalating, and I can't help but worry about what might come next.

We lapse into silence as I work, my fingers gently cleaning and bandaging the cuts on his arms and chest. The quiet between us grows heavy, charged with an unspoken tension.

As I finish up, my eyes trace the strong lines of his shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest. Heat pools low in my belly, and I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand. I smooth the last bandage into place, my touch lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

The air feels thick, electric. I can feel Marcus's eyes on me, intense and searching. When I finally look up, the heat in his gaze makes my breath catch.

"Zoe," Marcus says, his voice low and rough. I meet his eyes, unable to look away.

"Yeah?" I manage to squeak out.

His hand comes up, cupping my cheek. "I thought I was going to lose you," he murmurs. "When I saw you at the pack house, safe... my wolf..."

I swallow hard, hyper-aware of his touch, his proximity. "I'm okay," I whisper. "I'm right here."

For a moment, we're frozen, caught in each other's gaze. Then, with a growl that's more wolf than man, Marcus pulls me closer.

"Mine," he rumbles, and before I can process what's happening, his lips are on mine.

The moment Marcus's lips meet mine, the world fades away, leaving only the scorching heat of his touch. It's as if a match has been struck, igniting a blaze that threatens to consume us both. His kiss is not just a press of lips—it's a fierce claiming, a wordless declaration of his need for me.

His hands twist into my hair, pulling me closer, angling my head to deepen our kiss. I yield to him, my fingers digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders, urging him nearer still. A low growl rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through me, stoking the fire he's kindled.

With a suddenness that leaves me breathless, Marcus breaks our kiss, his dark hazel eyes ablaze with a possessive fire. Without a word, he lifts me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. His strength is effortless, a silent testament to the powerful wolf shifter within him. I feel delicate and cherished in his embrace, yet there's an undeniable edge of danger that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through my veins.

He carries me to the bedroom, the dim light casting long shadows across the floor. Gently, he lays me down upon the bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Our lips find each other once more, the intensity of our connection growing with each passing second. His hands rove over me, mapping the contours of my body with a reverence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and adored.

His fingers skim the hem of my shirt, pausing to seek my permission. I meet his gaze, finding in his eyes a silent question. With a nod, I give him the answer he seeks. In a single, fluid motion, he lifts my shirt over my head, revealing the delicate lace of my bra.

A sound somewhere between a growl and a groan escapes him as his eyes drink me in. "So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly purr that resonates deep within me. His fingertips trace the edge of the lace, each touch sending ripples of anticipation through my body.

With practiced ease, he releases the clasp of my bra, the garment falling away to reveal my breasts. He dips his head, pressing tender kisses along the swell of my flesh, his tongue darting out to tease my hardening nipples. A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, causing me to arch into his touch with a gasp.

My hands shake as I fumble with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. Marcus assists me, his movements swift and sure as he discards his clothing.

Once we are both bare, Marcus takes a moment to admire me, his gaze sweeping over my body with an intensity that makes my heart race. "Perfect," he whispers, the sincerity in his voice making me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

I take a moment to return the favor, letting my eyes roam across the chiseled planes of his chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen. The man is a masterpiece of raw, masculine power, his body sculpted from years of physical labor and military discipline. The smattering of hair across his chest narrows to a tantalizing trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans, a silent invitation that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through me.

His biceps flex as he moves, the muscles shifting beneath his taut skin, and I can't help but appreciate the sheer, breathtaking maleness of him. It's not just his physical appearance that stirs my desire, but the strength of character that lies beneath, the quiet strength and fierce protectiveness that draw me to him like a moth to a flame.

His hands trace the contours of my body, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through me. He kisses his way down my neck, his lips warm and insistent. I arch into him, my fingers threading through his hair as he continues his descent, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The coiled strength of his shoulders under my hands makes my pulse race, and the feel of his stubble against my skin sends shivers of delight through me. The scent of his arousal mingles with the musky aroma of pine that clings to him, a heady combination that makes my head spin and my body ache with need.

When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, looking up at me with a hunger that takes my breath away. I nod, giving him silent permission to continue, and he rewards me with a wicked smile.

He settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. I squirm in anticipation, my heart pounding in my chest. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he lowers his head.

The first touch of his tongue is electric, a jolt of pleasure that makes me cry out. He teases me with slow, deliberate strokes, each one drawing me deeper into a world of sensation. I can feel my orgasm building, a slow coil of tension that threatens to overwhelm me.

Marcus seems to sense how close I am, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue working with a maddening precision that drives me wild. I'm panting now, my body writhing beneath his as I chase the elusive peak of pleasure.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue, I'm there. My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, powerful and all-consuming. I cry out his name, my body shuddering with the force of my release.

As the aftershocks subside, Marcus crawls back up my body, his eyes dark with desire. He kisses me deeply, the taste of my own arousal mingling with the taste of him.

"Mine," he growls possessively, and I can't find it in me to argue. In this moment, I belong to him, body and soul.

"Please, Marcus," I beg, my voice husky with need. "I need you."

With a groan, he finally gives us what we both crave. He enters me in one slow, deliberate thrust, the impressive size of his cock stretching me deliciously. I cry out at the exquisite sensation, my body eagerly accommodating his girth and length. The sheer magnitude of him, the unyielding hardness, sends a thrill of pleasure through my core.

We move together, our rhythm building from a slow burn to a desperate frenzy. Each stroke of his thick, rigid cock fans the flames of my desire, pushing me closer to the edge. I cling to him, my nails raking down his back as he drives into me again and again, filling me so completely it borders on ecstasy.

"Come for me, Zoe," Marcus commands, his voice rough with passion. His hand slips between us, finding the bundle of nerves at my center. At his touch, I shatter, my orgasm crashing over me in waves of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

Marcus follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he finds his release. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he rides out the aftershocks.

For a long moment, we lie there in silence, our bodies slick with sweat and intertwined in the tangled sheets. Then Marcus rolls onto his side, pulling me close.

As I drift to sleep, I hear him whisper, "You're mine, Zoe. And I'm yours."