Harley nodded. She would have thought that having him spoon her all night would have kept her awake; it hadn’t. If anything, she’d settled easier having him there. Maybe because, for the first time in months, she’d felt safe. And maybe because his bed was the shit. Seriously, the sleigh bed was huge and had the comfiest mattress in the history of . . . ever. Like the rest of the lodge, his wooden paneled bedroom was very masculine and earthy.

Harley had suspected it would take a while before she finally drifted off, considering her thoughts were jumbled and her body was humming with arousal. But minutes after she’d closed her eyes, sleep had taken her. She’d stirred briefly when she felt a solid body wrap around her from behind, but, being a heavy sleeper, she’d fallen right back asleep. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty. I tried to wake you earlier, but it would have been easier trying to wake the dead. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

“Not really.” Receiving e-mails from people threatening to break into her bedroom and rape her had a way of keeping a girl awake. Her cat too, had been on edge every night.

“We missed breakfast at the main lodge. But that doesn’t matter because you and I need to talk in private anyway.” Unease flashed across her face, which hardly surprised Jesse. “Come downstairs when you’re ready and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“All right.”

Leaning down, Jesse slipped a hand around her nape and indulged in a long, thorough taste of her. Breaking the kiss, he swept his thumb over her plush lower lip. “Belonging to me won’t be so awful, Harley.”

Watching that epic ass disappear out of the room, Harley took another swig of her coffee. Not that she was drowsy any longer. Hell, that kiss had woken her right up. It had also rekindled the low hum of her arousal that had simmered beneath her skin last night. Shit.

Unzipping the suitcase that she’d collected from the hotel on the way to Mercury territory, she grabbed her toothbrush, hairbrush, and some clothes. Once she was ready, she descended the creaky wooden stairs and found Jesse in the kitchen, cooking breakfast while talking on his cell phone. The smells of egg, sausage, and toast made her stomach rumble.

“Zander agreed to take over my shift today,” he told whoever was on the other end of the call. “I’m taking the day off.”

Oh, was he now? At that moment, he turned. She fought a blush as his dark eyes swept over every inch of her with a proprietary glint. It made her nervous, but her cat kind of liked the bold move. He gestured for her to sit at the oak table, where a glass and a carton of her favorite orange juice waited. She took a seat and poured herself a glass, watching him move around the kitchen as he continued his conversation.

As he opened one of the cupboards, she glimpsed a box of Twinkies. And frowned. Jesse didn’t like Twinkies, so who the hell were they for? And was that peanut butter? He hated that, whereas Harley loved making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She glanced around the kitchen, noticing that the brand of coffee she used sat on the counter . . . right next to a box of the peppermint tea bags she liked.

He couldn’t have bought these things for her, since he hadn’t had a chance to go shopping. Either they were for his pack mates or he had a bed buddy with tastes similar to hers. Her stomach sank at the thought. Then she inwardly shook her head. No, it couldn’t be a bed buddy. Jesse was loyal to the bone. He wouldn’t bring Harley here and say the things he’d said last night if he was involved with someone.

Jesse slid two plates onto the table and took the seat opposite her. “Dig in.”

Glad to be distracted from thoughts of him with another female, Harley dived into her meal. Silence fell, which wouldn’t have been awkward for Harley if it wasn’t for the fact that . . . “You’re staring.”

“I like looking at you.”

She spluttered. “Well . . . don’t.”

Amused, he said, “You can’t be shy. You perform on stage all the time. Who taught you how to play the violin?”

“My aunt.” Her maternal family placed a lot of importance on the ability to play an instrument.

“You’re very talented.”

“Um, thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m stating a fact.”

She forked some egg as she asked, “So . . . what are you doing today?”

His eyes bore into hers. “First, reading your hate mail.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I could just tell you the gist of it.”

“Did you get another e-mail from them this morning?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should check. Their intention was for you to die. They’ll know by now that you didn’t. They’ll either have driven by the club this morning, expecting to see a crime scene, or they’ll have stuck around the club last night, hoping to watch the car explode, and they’ll know that the bomb was dismantled. Either way, they should be aware by now that their plan failed, and they won’t be happy.”

Deciding to change the subject, since the e-mails could easily turn her stomach, she asked, “What did you say that made your Alphas agree for me to come here?”

“The truth: that you’re mine and I’m keeping you.”

He’d said it so simply, like this was a done deal. She shot him a sardonic smile. “Such a wishful thinker.” His mouth twitched. “You know, even if I was prepared to stay, they would never accept me as a permanent member of the pack. How has that not occurred to you?”