POV – James Ashford
I forced a smile, stepping closer to the door. "Goodnight, Elena."
She hesitated, her hand still resting on the door handle, eyes searching mine. For a heartbeat, the air shifted — thick, electric. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of us standing in that soft golden light of her apartment.
"Goodnight," she whispered, but her voice trembled, uncertain, like she didn't really want it to end either.
I should have turned away. I should have left. But then she looked up at me — really looked — and something in me broke.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Her breath caught, eyes widening, but she didn't move away. My fingers lingered just a second too long, grazing the warmth of her cheek.
"Elena…" I murmured, my voice rough with restraint.
"Yes?" It came out as barely more than a breath.
And then the distance between us vanished.
I kissed her.
Softly at first — a question, not a demand — but the moment her lips parted beneath mine, the world tilted. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, yet filled with everything we'd both been holding back. She tasted like wine and warmth, like something I could never get enough of.
Her hands found their way to my chest, hesitating there, then clutching lightly at my shirt as if to keep herself anchored. My own hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, pulling her just a little closer.
The wolf inside me howled in triumph, but I kept control — barely. This wasn't about possession. It was about connection. It was the recognition of something ancient, something right.
When I finally pulled back, it was only because I had to breathe. We stood there, still so close our foreheads nearly touched, her breath mingling with mine. Her eyes were wide, dazed, beautiful.
I let out a low, unsteady breath. "I'm sorry," I murmured, though I didn't mean it.
She shook her head faintly, voice trembling. "Don't be."
For a long, silent moment, we simply looked at each other — both knowing this had changed everything, even if we didn't yet understand how.
"I should go," I said finally, forcing the words past the weight in my chest.
"I know," she whispered.
I stepped back, every instinct screaming to stay. "Goodnight, Elena."
"Goodnight, James."
When I turned to leave, the faint taste of her still lingered — sweet, maddening, unforgettable.
Outside, the cool night air hit me, sharp and grounding, but it couldn't calm the storm inside me. My heart was still pounding, my senses alive with her.
She didn't know what she was doing to me.
She didn't know who I was.
And she didn't know what she was.
…
The night air hit me the moment I stepped out of Elena's building. Cool, crisp, grounding — and yet it did nothing to settle the storm that had ignited inside me. The taste of her lingered on my lips, the warmth of her close presence still coiling through my veins, maddening in its intensity.
Every nerve, every sense, was alive. The city's lights blurred past as I slid into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. Calm. Composed. That was what I needed to appear. The wolf inside me was already dancing, wild and impatient, growling softly at the restraint I forced upon myself. She is mine, it whispered, and the thought made my chest ache with a strange, possessive hunger.
I started the engine and drove, the streets of London slipping beneath the tires, each turn bringing me farther from her but closer to my control. I forced myself to focus on the drive, counting the lampposts, the rhythm of traffic, anything to slow the pulse hammering in my skull. But the scent of her — subtle, yet undeniable — clung to me like smoke, and I inhaled deeply, knowing I would never forget it.
Every instinct screamed: She doesn't know. She doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know what she means to you.
And the truth was brutal. I didn't just want her. I needed to understand her. Needed to know why the mate I'd been seeking all my life walked through the world oblivious to what she carried inside her.
By the time the outskirts of London began to give way to the wooded paths leading to my estate, the tension in my shoulders hadn't eased. The mansion loomed ahead, imposing yet welcoming in its own way — a fortress, a home, a territory. The night was quiet here, save for the faint rustle of trees and the distant scent of the pack stirring in the night.
I parked at the edge of the drive and leaned back for a moment, letting the silence wash over me, my mind already plotting the next move. Lucian. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
I reached for my phone, dialing the one man I trusted above all others next to me. Seconds later, Lucian's calm, measured voice came through, carrying that same quiet authority that always demanded respect.
"James," he said, no greeting, no preamble. Just his presence through the line.
"Lucian," I began, keeping my tone neutral, though every inch of me vibrated with urgency. "I need a full genealogical trace on Elena Dorne. All records, lineage, the works. Find out why she has no awareness of her… nature."
There was a pause. I could hear the faint rustle of paper, or perhaps just his careful consideration. "Elena Dorne," he repeated slowly. "You mean the human employee from Ashford Industries? You want a full history?"
"Yes," I said sharply, though I forced the edge of my voice down. Calm. Collected. "Everything you can find. Birth records, family deaths, any… anomalies. I want to know why she isn't aware of what she is. And cross-reference any potential lycanthropic lineage."
Lucian exhaled softly, a sound that carried neither surprise nor doubt. "Understood. I'll begin immediately. If anything appears unusual, I'll alert you. Expect a preliminary report by tomorrow evening."
"Good," I said, my tone softening just a fraction. "And Lucian?"
"Yes?"
"Handle it discreetly."
"Of course, James." His voice held that unspoken loyalty, the kind that made him more than an ally — a shadow I could trust with anything, even my mistakes.
I ended the call, letting the phone rest against my palm for a moment, staring out at the darkened estate. The wolf inside me throbbed impatiently, restless, roaring softly with anticipation. Elena. My mate. And yet, she was unaware, untouchable in her ignorance. That was going to change. Soon.
But not tonight. Tonight, she had only my restraint — and even that was stretched thin.
I let my gaze drift toward the faint lights of the surrounding trees, the distant figures of the pack stirring, and I allowed myself a single, long breath. The hunt would begin soon. I just needed patience.
Because when I found the truth — when I uncovered her past, her lineage, and the reason she had walked through life blind to what she was — she would belong to me entirely.
And I would make sure the wolf inside me never let her go.