When Dyson woke up, it took him a minute to realize something was wrong. His bed was a comfortably warm level and his head was foggy and disoriented from sleep. He rolled over thinking nothing of it, and buried his face in his pillow, enjoying the way it smelled distinctly of Kenzi.
Kenzi! Dyson immediately sat up, frantically eyeing his loft from his bed, alert and on the verge of going full wolf. Her scent was fresh, but not as much as it would be if she briefly got up to use the bathroom and from what he could tell, no lights were on. His apartment was dark in a peaceful, early morning way and normally Dyson would've enjoyed it, but without Kenzi it seemed lonely and empty and distinctly lacking life- just the polar opposite of everything that tiny girl was.
That sick tiny girl. That sick tiny girl who smelled of a fae shifter. That sick tiny girl who smelled of a fae shifter, but hadn't been claimed. Alone. Dyson's nostrils flared and a growl rose in his throat, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming panic forming in his chest. Quickly, he sprang up and grabbed the first shirt from his closet, and tugged on his shoes, not bothering to tie or button either. The door to his loft slammed shut hard enough to crack the frame and Dyson swore to himself he was dead-bolting it shut from the inside the second Kenzi was inside it again.