Chapter 1
Cameron
Cameron woke before the room fully brightened, caught in that thin space between sleep and awareness where his body knew something was different before his mind did.
Warm.
Soft.
Not alone.
He stayed still for a second, eyes still closed, letting himself feel it instead of rushing to name it. The weight tucked against his side. The slow, steady rhythm of breathing near his chest. The faint scent of Ivy in his sheets, in his room, in the air he dragged into his lungs like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.
Then it all settled at once.
Ivy.
His eyes opened slowly.
Gray morning light slipped through the curtains, painting the room in soft shadows, and there she was, curled into his side like sometime during the night she had stopped guarding every inch of space between them and simply rested. One hand was tucked near his ribs, her hair spread across his pillow, her face calm in a way it almost never was when she was awake.
Something low in his chest tightened.
Last night came back in pieces first, then all at once.
Her voice, quiet but steady.
For now, I want this exactly like this.
When I do decide, I’ll tell you. And if I never decide, I’ll tell you that too.
I’m choosing you now. The only way I can.
His wolf had gone silent when she said it, not satisfied, not exactly soothed, but forced into stillness by the truth of her. By the fact that she had not run. By the fact that she had stayed. Cameron had felt that answer settle into him long after they fell asleep, a promise and a boundary wrapped together so tightly there was no separating them.
She was his.
Not by mark.
Not by claim.
But by choice, and that mattered more.
Even if it did not make the hunger easier.
She stayed, Akela said, his voice quiet in Cameron’s head now, watchful instead of pushing.
Cameron swallowed. I know.
That matters.
It did. More than Akela wanted to admit half the time.
Cameron let his hand move carefully over the blanket until his fingers rested against Ivy’s back. Light. Barely there. Enough to make sure she was real and still with him and not some cruel thing his mind built out of want before dawn.
She shifted closer in her sleep.
His throat tightened.
God.
There was something dangerous about mornings like this. Not because anything was wrong, but because they felt too easy. Too close to the life he wanted with her. The kind of moment that made his wolf lift his head and start imagining permanence like it was already within reach.
Mine, Akela said, more certain now.
Cameron’s jaw tightened. Careful.
Akela did not answer, but Cameron could still feel him there beneath his skin, alert and deeply pleased by the sight of her in their bed.
Not helping.
Ivy made the softest sound and blinked awake slowly, her lashes lifting just enough for sleepy green eyes to meet his. For one second she looked disoriented, then her expression gentled when she recognized him.
“Hey,” she whispered.
His chest pulled hard enough to hurt. “Hey.”
Her voice was rough with sleep, warm and quiet, and it did something to him he didn’t have words for. She glanced down, like she had just registered the fact that she was tucked halfway into him, and a faint flush touched her face.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
He almost smiled. “You were drooling on me.”
Her eyes narrowed even half-asleep. “Liar.”
“That hurts. First thing in the morning and you question my integrity.”
“You do not have integrity before coffee.”
That got a real smile out of him.
The room stayed quiet after that, the kind of quiet that wasn’t empty. Ivy’s gaze softened, but he could see it there too—that awareness under the surface. Last night hadn’t vanished with sleep. The mark was still between them. Her choice was still hers. His promise was still his to keep.
He reached up and brushed a piece of hair back from her face. “You okay?”
She held his gaze for a second, long enough that he knew she heard the real question under it.
Are you still okay after last night?
Are we still okay?
Are you still here?
“Yeah,” she said softly. “A little embarrassed to be waking up in your room when your whole family lives downstairs, but… yeah.”
His mouth curved. “That part’s fair.”
Her lips twitched.
She was still here.
The thought had barely settled before footsteps pounded down the hallway.
Fast. Tiny. Determined.
Cameron closed his eyes for one brief second. “No.”
Ivy frowned, still waking up. “What?”
The bedroom door flew open hard enough to smack the wall.
“Ashe up!”
His two-year-old sister burst into the room with her stuffed wolf clutched by one ear, curls everywhere, pajamas twisted, and all the force of nature she usually brought to six in the morning. She made it three steps before hauling herself onto the bed like she paid rent here.
Ivy jolted upright so fast Cameron had to catch Ashe by the middle before she trampled straight over Ivy’s legs.
“Ashe,” he said, grabbing her with one arm. “What are you doing?”
His sister giggled, entirely unbothered. “Woke up.”
“I can see that.”
Ashe twisted in his grip, looking at Ivy with huge serious eyes. “You sleeped here.”
Ivy, hair a mess and face pink now, blinked at her. “I… did, yeah.”
Ashe seemed to think about that. Then she nodded once like this was acceptable information. “Okay.”
Cameron dropped his head back against the pillow for half a second. “This house has no rules.”
Ivy laughed softly, trying and failing to hide it.
The sound hit him low and warm.
Ashe wiggled until Cameron set her down between them. She sat there proudly, stuffed wolf in her lap, looking back and forth between them like she had interrupted something important and was delighted by it.
“Hungy,” she announced.
“Of course you are,” Cameron muttered.
“Want cereal. Not bad cereal.”
“There’s bad cereal now?”
“Yes.”
Ivy pressed her lips together, clearly losing the fight not to laugh again.
Ashe pointed at her. “You come too.”
Cameron looked at Ivy then, expecting some hesitation. Maybe awkwardness. Maybe that careful step back she sometimes took when his family got too close too fast.
Instead her whole face softened.
“After I brush my teeth,” she told Ashe.
His sister accepted that immediately. “Kay. Fast though.”
“Bossy,” Cameron said.
Ashe ignored him and flopped sideways against Ivy like they had known each other forever.
Something in Cameron went very still.
Not tense.
Not sharp.
Still.
His little sister trusted on instinct. She didn’t care about pack dynamics, or what people downstairs might infer, or how loaded it was that Ivy had spent the night in his room after everything. Ashe only cared who felt safe.
And apparently, Ivy did.
Ivy looked over Ashe’s head and caught Cameron watching.
“What?” she asked quietly.
Too much.
He could tell her she looked good in his bed. That seeing her with Ashe made something in his chest twist so hard it felt like a bruise. That this morning felt dangerously close to the kind of normal he could get addicted to.
Instead he said, “You’ve got a pillow line on your face.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wow. Okay.”
“It’s bad.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re actually the worst.”
Ashe gasped happily. “Worst!”
“Thank you,” Ivy said dryly. “Very helpful.”
Cameron laughed before he could stop himself, and just like that the room loosened. Only a little, but enough.
Akela shifted under his skin, calmer than before, but not asleep.
This could be ours, he said.
Cameron’s fingers tightened once around the edge of the blanket. Don’t start.
I’m not pushing, Akela said, which was probably the closest thing to honesty Cameron was getting. I’m noticing.
That was the problem. Cameron was noticing too.
The soft morning light.
Ivy sitting in his bed with sleep still in her eyes.
Ashe wedged between them with no idea she had just turned something painfully intimate into something almost sweet.
A scene so simple it should not have carried this much weight.
And yet it did.
Because last night Ivy had drawn a line, and Cameron had promised to honor it. No pressure. No rushing. No one else’s timeline. Not even if his wolf hated it. Not even if every instinct in him kept reaching for more.
This was enough.
It had to be enough.
He sat up carefully and lifted Ashe into his arms before she could start bouncing. “Come on, menace. Let’s go terrorize the kitchen.”
“I terrorize cereal,” Ashe corrected.
“Obviously.”
Ivy pushed her hair back and sat up too, looking far more awake now. There was still softness in her face, but he could see her settling back into herself the way she always did around other people. Not pulling away from him. Just… bracing for the day.
He understood that.
He stood and offered her his hand without thinking.
She looked at it for a second. Then she slid her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet.
Simple.
Easy.
Still enough to make his heart kick hard once against his ribs.
Ashe immediately leaned out of Cameron’s arms toward Ivy. “Hand.”
Ivy smiled and took her free hand at once.
For one strange second, they just stood there like that near his bed—Ashe in Cameron’s arms, one of Ivy’s hands in his, the other claimed by a sleepy toddler, the whole room washed in dim early light and quiet that wouldn’t last much longer.
A picture too close to something permanent.
Too close to something he could want recklessly if he wasn’t careful.
So Cameron tightened his grip on control instead.
On patience.
On the promise he made her last night.
He would not rush her.
Not for his wolf.
Not for the pack.
Not for fear.
Not even for the part of him already imagining what it would mean if mornings like this stopped being borrowed and started being theirs.
Ashe squirmed in his arms. “Cereal now.”
Cameron exhaled slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
He let go of Ivy’s hand first.
But only after holding on for one second longer than necessary.
