Theodore Bear
The pool was thankfully quiet when I went down for a swim. People tend to steer clear of me — big build, rough edges. I intimidate without meaning to.
I'd arrived just a few hours ago at the apartment my brothers and I share — mostly when we're in town for company business.
The swim wasn't as enjoyable as I'd hoped. It's hard to relax when half your body is still out of the water, even at the deep end. I gave up, rinsed the chlorine from my hair, and wrapped the towel I brought around my waist before heading to the elevators.
The hallway was long, hollow, and eerily quiet — reminded me of The Shining. A chill slid down my spine just thinking about that movie. I hated horror.
To distract myself, I made a mental to-do list: unpack the three oversized suitcases I brought, figure out if we had flour, maybe try to bake something for the guys before they got in.
The soft ding of the elevator broke my thoughts — and then I was hit by it.
Vanilla. Warm, sweet vanilla. It filled the elevator like a comfort blanket and smacked of memory — coffee, warm pastries, early mornings.
She was already inside.
Leaning casually against the elevator wall, near the buttons. She looked up at me with sharp, tired eyes and flushed cheeks, her whole posture sagging with exhaustion. But she wasn't falling apart — she wore the exhaustion like armor.
There was something real about her. Raw and unfiltered. No forced smiles. No fake pleasantries. She met my eyes with the kind of look women give after a twelve-hour shift and a canceled Uber — dazed, irritated, and absolutely over it.
She clearly hadn't expected me. Then again, I sure as hell hadn't expected her.
"What floor?" she asked, voice low and sultry, cutting straight through the fog in my brain.
I glanced down, spotted the lit button, and blessed whatever gods decided to let me share a floor with this woman. "You've already got it," I murmured.
I barely got a full look, but memory's a bastard when it wants to be. She wore a cream silk blouse — two buttons undone just enough to tease. A long black skirt hugged her hips, a slit up the side giving just enough leg to stir trouble.
My cock twitched.
I turned toward the elevator doors and tried to will the tension away.
The elevator dinged again, snapping me out of my thoughts — and out of her presence.
I all but bolted for our apartment, fumbling with the keys like a rookie. I didn't dare glance back, and I definitely didn't press my ear to the wall to see if she made noises in her sleep. That would be stupid.
"I need a cold shower," I muttered.
---
Zaire Panther
I was one traffic jam away from clocking this annoying wolf out.
Ever since we left the airport, Kaiden hadn't stopped talking about finding love, fated mates, destiny — all the things I didn't have the time or patience for.
Thank God traffic was light. Otherwise, I'd be explaining to Father why his son mysteriously vanished.
Instead, I sat there, knuckles tight on the wheel while Kaiden chattered beside me and showed me profile after profile from his dating app.
He survived the ride to the apartment and made it to the elevator.
"I'm telling you, Zaire," he said, scrolling. "Maybe our mates will be at the event."
I rubbed my temples. "For the last time, we're not going for—"
And then I saw her.
My voice died mid-nag.
Long legs. Blue lace. Glasses sliding halfway down her nose. Takeout bags in each hand.
Time stuttered.
Cream-polished toes peeked from strappy blue heels. That barely-there lingerie strained against her curves, sheer enough to show the outline of heaven and sin all at once.
A surge of something primal cracked in my chest — not just lust, but something deeper. Curiosity. A tug I couldn't name.
And then, she froze.
Full-body panic.
Door slammed.
Gone.
Just like that.
---
Kaiden Wolf
The flight had been uneventful — which was unfortunate. I could've used something distracting.
We'd gotten the call about Father's declining health. His only request? One last picnic with all of his adopted children. That wasn't a gathering — that was a merger.
I smiled faintly, lost in the lights outside the plane window.
Flashback
"Kaiden, what happened?"
I'd tried to water the plants all at once, thinking they'd grow faster.
The garden was a swamp.
I thought he'd throw me out, like all the others had. Instead, he handed me a bag of soil and said, "Your punishment is helping me fix it."
We spent half the day working side by side.
"These flowers," he said, gently rearranging the roots, "they're no different from love."
"You mean... mates?" I asked.
"For shifters, maybe. For us humans, it's just love. Either way, it takes time. Too much water and it wilts. Not enough, and it dies. You have to be patient. But if it blooms... you'll have something beautiful."
Present
I blinked back into focus as the plane landed.
After the crowd cleared, I grabbed my things — only to find a flirtatious note left on my seat. The flight attendant winked as she passed.
Nothing. I felt nothing.
Was Father messing with us?
Zaire was already waiting by the car when I stepped out. Women threw glances his way like confetti — and he just ignored them all. How could someone that stone-faced get so much attention?
Time to change that.
"Maybe this time, I can help that statue find a mate," I muttered, smirking.
---
Present Time
I felt something snap in my chest. Not just lust — but interest.
Who the hell was she?
She froze like a deer in headlights.
Door slam.
Gone.
She was blue. Top to toe. Lingerie and heels. Curls wild. Glasses hanging low.
She had takeout in both hands and pure panic on her face.
Our eyes met.
And for a second, time stopped.
I wanted to scoop her up and tell her she looked stunning. That there was no shame in living your best lasagna-in-lingerie life.
Then she slammed the door so hard it echoed down the hall.
I blinked. "Did that just happen?"
Zaire nodded. "It happened."
"She's definitely not local," I muttered. "No one from here opens the door like that."
Zaire snorted. "She didn't open the door. She wasn't expecting us."
I whistled. "Then I guess we caught her... mid-vibe."
Both of us stared at her closed door.
Zaire tilted his head. "Think she'll talk to us again?"
I grinned. "Eventually. Shame has a 48-hour half-life."
Just then, Theodore popped out of his room, towel still around his neck. "Thank God you guys are back. I'm starving. Who brought dinner?"
We all froze.
No one had.
Groans all around.
Zaire tossed his duffel on the couch. "We forgot dinner."
I threw my head back. "In my defense, I was distracted by her thighs—I mean, eyes."
Theodore paused mid-step. "Blue lingerie?"
Both of us turned to him.
"The goddess across the hall?" Zaire asked flatly.
"She was in the elevator," Theodore said, like it wasn't a big deal. "Vanilla and exhaustion. Thought I imagined her."
"You didn't think to mention this earlier?" I asked, incredulous.
"I was coping," Theodore deadpanned. "With a cold shower and prayer."
Zaire pinched the bridge of his nose like he was rethinking his entire existence.
I started pacing. "So she's real. Gorgeous. Smells like dessert. Lives across the hall. What's the play?"
"No play," Zaire said sharply. "We have work. Father's health. The company. No distractions."
I leaned against the wall. "You say that now. Just wait 'til she walks past again in that blue number."
"I wouldn't survive it," Theodore muttered.
A creak echoed from the hallway.
We all froze.
A rustle. A soft clatter. And what sounded like someone muttering: "Stupid cheesecake box."
"It's her," I whispered.
Zaire didn't move, but his eyes narrowed.
Theodore leaned on the counter. "So… who's going over first?"
"Not it," I said quickly.
"I already met her," Theodore shrugged.
Kaiden scrolled through his phone, frowning. "Everything's closed. Or doesn't deliver here."
Zaire grunted. "Concierge said try Bao & Bite or Midnight Meals."
Kaiden snorted. "Closed. Closed. This one's open but doesn't deliver here."
"Building's too new," Zaire muttered. "Apps don't recognize the address yet."
"Then how do we eat? Eat the address?"
Zaire side-eyed him. "He said the girl in 26C knows the spots that deliver here. Orders out sometimes."
Kaiden's lips twitched. "Let me guess — smells like cheesecake?"
Theodore cracked a grin. "And apparently mutters about it too."
Zaire sighed and stood. "Fine. I'll go."
"You?" I blinked. "You're the scariest one."
"Exactly," Zaire growled. "Rip the Band-Aid off."
He reached for the door handle. "And I'm starving."
"For food?" I teased.
Zaire shot me a look. "Damn both."
Theodore snorted. "He didn't deny the cheesecake."
---