The penthouse was dark when Levi stepped off the elevator.
Not completely dark—the floor-to-ceiling windows let in enough city light to cast long shadows across the open living space. But dark enough that Levi's first thought was that Noah still wasn't home. Another night of empty rooms and silence.
Then the mate bond pulsed.
It was subtle, barely noticeable most days, just a low hum of awareness at the back of his consciousness. But right now it pulled taut, like a string connecting his chest to something in the apartment. Noah was here.
Levi stepped further inside, letting the elevator doors close behind him. The air smelled faintly of alcohol—not overwhelming, just the ghost of it, like Noah had been drinking but not heavily. Whiskey, probably. Noah's drink of choice when he was stressed.
And Noah had been stressed for a week straight, if the Sterling Industries headlines were anything to judge by. The stock had dropped another eight percent today.
