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"Fine," I agreed.

"Good night."

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand.

"Now," I said, turning back to my wife.

Rosalind was asleep.

I blinked.

At some point during three grown men arguing about who had to leave his mate, she'd curled herself around me. Her cheek rested against my chest. One arm lay across my stomach. Her breathing had gone slow and deep. Completely peaceful.

My cock was still hard enough to pound nails.

Rosalind made a soft sound and curled closer. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn't need to hit anything. Didn't need to break anything. Didn't need to find something to do with the violence that always seemed to be sitting beneath my skin, waiting for somewhere to go.

I was content. Wide fucking awake. But content. So I wrapped both arms around my wife and watched her sleep.

All night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ROSALIND

Iwoke warm. Sunlight spilled across the bed. A heaviness lingered low in my belly and between my thighs.

I'd had two orgasms last night. Gunnar had seemed convinced there were more hiding inside me somewhere. I was both grateful and mildly terrified that I'd fallen asleep before he found a third.

I'd slept peacefully. Dreamlessly. The previous night Gunnar and I had shared this bed, he'd stayed on his side. He hadn't touched me. Hadn't reached for me in his sleep. Hadn't so much as allowed a foot to stray across the invisible border dividing the massive mattress between us.

Last night I'd fallen asleep wrapped around him. Or he'd been wrapped around me. Both, I supposed. I'd slept more peacefully in Gunnar Blackwood's arms than I could remember sleeping at any other point in my life.

That meant I would have to revise my plan.

I was still taking down the packs. Obviously. The Blackwoods, the Lupettos, the Ironwoods, the Volki. My own family. Every rotten pillar holding up this corrupt, furry kingdom deserved to crumble. But Gunnar could stay.

Ivar too. He was a sweet little thing, like an eager poodle.

And Astrid. I liked the idea of having younger siblings to bicker with. Someone to annoy me and borrow my things without asking. I'd never had anyone who belonged to me without being paid to stand at my side or ordered to protect me.

Fine. Three Blackwoods could survive the purge. I wasn't unreasonable.

I stretched, reaching for Gunnar. My hand met only warm sheets. His side of the bed was empty, but the mattress still held his heat. He hadn't been gone long.

Sunlight warmed the side of my face. From the angle and intensity, I guessed it was late morning. I turned away from it.

That part hadn't been a lie; bright light hurt my eyes. My vision might not be as ruined as everyone believed, but the damage was real. Too much light turned the world into a painful white blur. My father had had the same condition. He'd hidden it well, well enough that even my mother hadn't figured it out until after they'd said their vows. I always wondered if that's why she'd killed him.

I reached toward the bedside table and found my sunglasses sitting near the edge. Not where I'd left them. They'd been pushed closer, within easy reach. Something warm fluttered in my chest. Probably residual orgasm.

I put on the glasses. My robe was gone, likely abandoned somewhere between the bedroom and the bathroom during last night's chase. I didn't remember where and didn't relish getting on my hands and knees to grope around to find it. I'd likely step on it at some point. I rose naked and headed toward the closet.

Three steps in, I stopped. There was nothing but plush carpet. I pointed my toes and moved them around. Still nothing.

Gunnar's clothes had been here. I remembered where he'd discarded them. I'd made a mental map as he'd undressed. Pants near the foot of the mattress. Shirt farther to the left. Both were gone.

My husband was neat. That was useful. I could navigate familiar spaces easily. Unexpected objects laying in wait were another matter. A pair of sneakers left in the middle of the room could send me sprawling if I wasn't paying attention.