Dessert arrived—lemon meringue pie, made exactly the way Helena liked it, with less sugar and more acidity. She hadn't even ordered it. Liam simply ordered it for both of them, with that quiet certainty of someone who already knew what she wanted.
Helena looked at the plate, then at him.
"How did you know?"
"That you prefer it this way?" Liam shrugged. "You always complain when it's too sweet. That time at the bakery, you sent the piece back because it was cloying."
Of course. He was there too.
She picked up the spoon, but didn't eat. Instead, she looked around the restaurant for the first time with real attention. The table they occupied was the best—in the corner, with a perfect view of the river, but secluded enough for privacy. The background music was soft jazz, exactly the style she liked to listen to at home when she wanted to relax. Even the temperature was perfect—not too cold like most restaurants.
"You chose this place specifically," she said, it wasn't a question.
— I chose.
— And the table. The music. The food.
— Yes.
Helena put down her spoon, a discomfort growing in her chest.
— All of this was... planned. Every detail.
Liam tilted his head, studying her.
— Does it bother you?
— I... don't know. — She rubbed her temples. — It's like you wrote a script. Like none of this is... real.
— Would you prefer I took you somewhere? That I risked serving you something you don't like? That I left everything to chance?
— I'd prefer it to seem real.
His expression grew more serious.
— It is real, Helena. Perhaps more real than any date you've ever had.
— How can it be real if you orchestrated every second?
— Because I care. — He leaned forward, his voice low but intense. — Because I pay attention. How many men you've dated have bothered to find out what you really like? How many people remembered how you drink your coffee, or that you wrinkle your nose when someone talks loudly on their cell phone in a restaurant?
Helena opened her mouth, but had no answer.
"In the three years you two were together, did André ever bring you the right flowers?" Liam continued. "Or were they always generic red roses, because that's what you give girlfriends?"
It was true. André always brought roses. She never said she didn't like them, so he kept bringing them.
"That's not fair," she murmured.
"It's not about being fair." Liam held his wine glass, but didn't drink. "It's about showing you the difference between being casually loved and being... seen."
"But it's not spontaneous."
"You want spontaneity?" There was a glint in his eyes now. "Okay. Tell me one thing you want to do right now. Anything. Without thinking."
Helena blinked, taken aback.
"I... don't know."
"Come on. First thing that comes to mind." She bit her lip, thinking. And then, almost unintentionally, the words came out:
"I want to see the stars. For real. Far from the city lights."
For a moment, Liam just looked at her. Then, a slow smile formed—not that controlled, calculated one, but something genuine, almost joyful.
"Then let's go."
"What? Now?"
"Why not?" He was already getting up, signaling to the waitress. "You want spontaneity? Let's go."
"But the bill, the dessert..."
"It's already paid." He held out his hand. "Do you trust me?"
Helena looked at his hand, her heart pounding. That was the real question, wasn't it? Did she trust him?
She should say no. She should insist on going home, on maintaining some control over the situation. But instead, she took his hand and stood up.
"This is crazy."
"Probably." He intertwined his fingers with hers. "Shall we go?"
Twenty minutes later, they were on a dark road leaving the city, Liam's motorcycle cutting through the night air. Helena held tightly to his waist, her loose hair flying behind her, her heart pounding—part fear, part pure adrenaline.
She didn't even know he had a motorcycle. But of course he did. Of course he was that kind of man.
He stopped in an open field atop a hill, far from any artificial light. When he turned off the engine, the silence was absolute, broken only by the distant chirping of crickets.
"Here," he said, helping her down.
Helena took a few steps, then looked up.
The sky was full of stars. Thousands of them, twinkling against the absolute blackness, the Milky Way cutting through the firmament like a river of light. It was breathtaking.
"My God," she whispered.
Liam spread his jacket on the ground and sat down, patting it beside him. Helena joined him, still looking up, completely fascinated.
— When was the last time you saw it like this? — he asked softly.
— Never. — She couldn't look away. — Not like this.
They remained silent for a long time, just watching. And then Helena realized something strange: she no longer felt that discomfort. The feeling that everything was controlled, rehearsed At that moment, atop that dark hill with the universe opening up above them, everything seemed... right.
"Did you plan this too?" she asked, but there was a smile in her voice now.
"No." He turned his face to her. "This was all you."
"But you knew where to come."
"I know places." A discreet smile. "But I've never brought anyone here before."
"Why not?"
Liam held her gaze, and there was something vulnerable there, something real beneath all that controlled intensity.
"Because I was waiting for the right person."
The air grew thick between them. Helena felt her heart race, but this time it wasn't fear. It was something else—something warm, pulsating, dangerous.
"Liam..."
"I know it scares you." He raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face with a delicacy that contrasted with all that strength. "I know I'm too intense, that I know too much, that all this seems... wrong."
"But?" — But this — he gestured between them — isn't planned. It's not a script. This, what I feel when you look at me like this... I can't control it even if I wanted to.
Helena realized they were very close now, their faces inches apart. She could feel his warmth, see the gold gleaming in his eyes even in the darkness.
— Are you going to tell me now? — She whispered. — The truth?
— Are you sure you want to know?
— No. — She was honest. — But I need to.
Liam took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them, there was determination in them.
— I'm not... completely human, Helena.
The world seemed to stop. She waited for a laugh, for a "I was just kidding," but nothing came. He was completely serious.
— What do you mean by that?
— I'm a wolf. — His voice was calm, factual. — A werewolf, if you prefer the more common term. And you... — he held her face in both hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. — You are my mate. My mate. The only person destined for me in this world.
Helena should laugh. She should get up and run away. But looking into his eyes, seeing the raw truth there, feeling something ancient and impossible resonating within her...
She believed.
________________________________________
to be continued...