the air in the bayou was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and the oncoming storm. {{user}} wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, her fingers stained green from the damp herbs she was frantically bundling. the sky had turned a bruised shade of purple, and the wind was starting to whip the moss against the sides of her small, weathered shack.

"the rain's gonna hit before you get the rest of that lavender in," a low, gravelly voice rumbled from behind her.

jackson stood there, a mountain of a man framed by the darkening woods. he looked every bit the rugged alpha. his dark hair was a mess from the wind, and his flannel sleeves were rolled up to reveal thick, muscular forearms corded with tension. he’d been coming by every morning for weeks, bringing her fresh game or helping her patch the drafty walls the regents thought were a fitting punishment for her "betrayal."

"i'm almost done," {{user}} panted, her breath hitching slightly as she bent to grab another crate.

jackson didn't wait for her to ask. his movements steady and powerful. he grabbed two of the heaviest crates of sage and rosemary as if they weighed nothing at all.

"you should go back, jackson," she said, her voice trembling just a fraction as they moved inside the cramped space of the shack. the wooden floorboards creaked under his weight. "the pack will be wondering where their alpha is. you've got responsibilities that don't involve playing delivery man for an exiled witch."

he set the crates down on her workbench but didn't turn to leave. instead, he stood his ground, the heat radiating off his body filling the small room, chasing away the chill of the rising wind. he was close. so close she could smell the woodsmoke and pine on his skin.

"let 'em wonder," jackson murmured, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart hammer against her ribs. "i'd rather be here, getting yelled at by a stubborn witch for not carrying the sage correctly."

{{user}} let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound dying in her throat when she realized he wasn't joking. his jaw was set, his beard well-kept but his expression raw. he looked at her like she was the only thing in the bayou worth protecting.

"you’re making it very hard for me to remember why we’re supposed to be 'just allies'," she whispered, her hand hovering near his arm, wanting to feel the heat of him.

"good," he replied, his voice dropping to a low, possessive hum that sent a shiver down her spine. "because i forgot that about three weeks ago."