Howling At The Same Moon Ch. 05

-Robert-

I stood outside Carina's apartment, my heart pounding harder than I cared to admit. Being away from Silverpine for the past few days had left me restless, and now, as I raised my hand to knock on her door, I wondered why I suddenly felt like a teenager asking his crush to prom.

The door swung open before my knuckles touched the wood. There she was, smiling up at me, her eyes sparkling like opals in that way that always managed to disarm me. Her chocolate curls were tied back, a few loose strands framing her face, and the apron around her waist was dusted with flour.

"Bobby! I'm glad you're back!" she said warmly, standing on her tip toes to give me a kiss before stepping aside to let me in.

I was greeted by the rich, savory aroma of garlic, mushrooms, and wine--a meal that promised to be as incredible as the woman making it. My stomach growled in response, but my wolf stirred for a different reason entirely. Beneath the inviting smell of chicken marsala, I caught his scent.

My jaw tightened as I followed her into the kitchen. The scent was vaguely familiar and distinctly male, and far too fresh for my liking. It clung to the air, to the couch, to her. Another man had been here recently.

It was faint, just enough to ignite a spark of jealousy that burned in my chest. He'd been here, in her space, where his scent didn't belong. I pushed the thought away, determined to enjoy the evening without letting my emotions get the better of me.

"This smells amazing," I said, closing the door behind me and forcing a smile as I took in her cozy apartment. She had cleaned up and had a couple candles lit around the space.

"Thanks," she said, brushing her hands on her apron. "I thought you deserved a home-cooked meal after being away."

Her words melted me, and I momentarily forgot about the threat in the room. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble," I said, my tone softened as I took the seat she gestured to at the small dining table.

My wolf was both calmed and agitated by the domestic intimacy of the scene. The candles, the thoughtful meal--it felt like something more, yet her easy demeanor reminded me that she still didn't know the truth about me. Or him. I took my seat at the table, trying to shake the unsettling feeling. The food smelled incredible, but my wolf wouldn't let me fully relax. Whoever he was, he'd been here long enough to leave his mark. I couldn't ask her about it without sounding like a jealous idiot, so I shoved the thought aside.

When she finally sat across from me, we dug into the meal. My first bite had me blinking in surprise.

"This is incredible, Babe," I said, savoring the tender chicken and rich sauce. "No, you've been holding out on me. This is phenomenal."

She laughed, brushing a curl from her face. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. You've got skills, Baby." I laughed, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "Well, you nailed it. If dentistry doesn't work out, you've got a solid backup plan."

The sound of her laughter settled something in me. For a little while, the conversation flowed naturally, the faint traces of another man's presence fading into the background. Until she shifted the mood with one word.

"Robert," she started, her voice softer now.

I looked up, her tone tugging my full attention away from my plate.

She set her fork down, folding her hands on the table. "I just wanted to say... I'm really happy you're in my life. You've been so kind and supportive, and I don't take that for granted."

Her words warmed me, but the way she shifted in her seat told me there was more.

"That means a lot," I said carefully, watching her. "I'm happy to be here too."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I also think we need to talk about... well, about the fact that I'm still dating someone else. I just--I want to make sure you're still okay with that. And if you're not, we should talk about it now."

The jealousy I'd been shoving down all evening surged to the surface. My wolf bristled, every fiber of me wanting to claim her, to erase the scent of the other man from her apartment and her life. But I knew better than to let those instincts show.

I leaned back in my chair, keeping my expression neutral. "I appreciate you bringing it up," I said evenly. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't on my mind, but I told you before, I'm willing to see where this goes. You've been honest about it from the start."

"I know you did, but I just..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I don't want to hurt you, Robert. That's the last thing I want. And I want to see where this goes too, I really do."

Her sincerity cut through my jealousy, but it didn't erase it. "You won't hurt me," I said simply, even though I didn't know if that was true.

"I've been thinking about all of this," Carina said after a long pause, her tone shifting again. "And I feel like it might help if we set some... boundaries. Ground rules."

The fork in my hand felt heavier than it should have, and I set it down carefully. My wolf didn't like the sound of this. Boundaries. But I kept my face neutral, leaning back slightly in my chair. "Ground rules?"

She nodded, fiddling with her napkin, her cheeks flushing the faintest pink. "Yeah. I know it sounds kind of... I don't know, cold? But I've never been in this kind of situation before, and I want to make sure no one gets hurt. And I've got to look out for myself too, ya know."

My chest tightened, but I didn't interrupt. If this was how she needed to navigate things, I'd hear her out.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm still figuring out what I want, and I don't want to string anyone along. So, I think it would be best if we were honest about things, always. No secrets. If something feels off, or if one of us starts feeling uncomfortable, we say it. No holding it in until it turns into something bigger."

Honesty. Though the irony of her asking for honesty, while I kept the biggest part of myself hidden, wasn't lost on me.

"Okay," I said, my voice calm. "That's fair. What else?"

She glanced at me, her eyes soft but serious. "I also think it's important that we respect each other's time and space. If I'm spending time with... with him," she hesitated, her voice lowering slightly, "I'll make sure you're not left waiting around. And I hope you'd do the same for me."

I didn't respond right away, my wolf snarling silently at the idea of her with someone else. Someone who wasn't me. But I forced my human logic to the front, nodding slowly. "Makes sense."

"And I want you to know," she added quickly, "this doesn't mean I care about you any less. It's not about choosing one person over the other right now. It's just... trying to figure out what feels right. I'm still trying to find out what I want in life now."

Her words landed softly, but they still stung. She was kind--far kinder than I probably deserved. I'd known what I was walking into with her, and yet, every moment I spent with her made it harder to imagine stepping away.

"Is that everything?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm churning inside me.

"Yeah," she said softly, studying my face. "Does it sound okay to you? I mean, if it doesn't, we can talk about it more--"

"It's okay," I interrupted, offering her a small smile. "I appreciate you being up front about this. It's better to have clear expectations than to fumble around in the dark."

She looked relieved, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you. I know this isn't easy, but I don't want to lose what we have, Robert. I really don't."

"You won't," I said firmly, though a part of me wondered how much longer I could keep this up.

But the truth was, I was already hurt and angry. And I had no one to blame but myself for letting someone else get this close to begin with.

Carina gave me a warm, grateful smile. "Thank you, Robert. For being so understanding about all of this. I know it's not easy, and it means a lot to me."

I nodded, forcing the tension in my shoulders to ease. "I told you I'm here for you. I meant it."

Her smile widened slightly, and she leaned back in her chair, the flickering candlelight dancing in her eyes. "Enough of that, though. Can I just say, the moon on Saturday night was gorgeous? Did you see it?"

The moon. My wolf stirred at the mention, an unwelcome reminder of what the moon meant to me--what it meant to all wolves. But I kept my expression light.

"Yeah," I said, my voice even. "I caught a glimpse while I was out of town. It was... something else."

"It was," she said wistfully, her gaze growing distant for a moment before she turned her attention back to me. "It just made me feel so... peaceful, you know? Like everything's going to be okay, even when life feels complicated."

Her words struck a chord in me, though I didn't let it show. She didn't know how close to home she'd hit, didn't know the moon's pull wasn't just poetic for me.

I managed a small smile. "I think I get what you mean."

We eased back into lighter conversation, laughing over old stories and talking about her day at work. By the time we finished dinner, my plate was practically licked clean. I insisted on helping her clear the dishes, but she swatted me away with a laugh, shooing me toward the couch.

"You cooked," I said, trying to argue.

"And you're my guest," she shot back. "Go get comfortable. I'll be there in a minute."

I relented, sinking into the couch as she tidied up. A faint trace of the other wolf's scent clung to the cushions, igniting a growl deep in my chest. I shoved it down, hard. This wasn't the time.

Carina joined me a few minutes later, carrying a bowl of popcorn and wearing a pair of cozy socks that made her look ridiculously cute. "Okay, I picked a comedy tonight," she said, holding up the remote. "Who doesn't love a good Sandler movie?"

She nestled against me easily, her head resting on my shoulder as the movie started. The feel of her body pressed against mine was intoxicating, a balm for my frayed nerves. If I closed my eyes, I could almost forget the other scent lingering in the room, but not entirely. It gnawed at me, a reminder of what I couldn't control.

Still, I focused on her laugh, the way she leaned into me during the funniest scenes, her genuine joy lighting up the room. It was worth every ounce of restraint I had to hold my wolf back.

When the credits rolled, she stretched lazily, looking up at me with that easy, soft smile of hers. "Thanks for coming over tonight, Robert. I really needed this. I missed you"

I walked with her to the door, lingering as she stood in the warm glow of her apartment light. Her gaze met mine and like magic, everything else fell away.

Leaning down, I captured her lips in a kiss, slow and intentional. I savored the taste of her, the softness of her mouth, letting the world fade into the background. She was mine. She might not know it yet, but she was mine.

When I finally pulled back, my hand lingered on her cheek, and I memorized the way she looked at me--warm, trusting, unaware of the storm raging inside me.

"Goodnight, Babe," I murmured.

"Goodnight, Bobby," she said softly, her smile lingering as she closed the door behind me.

Walking to my truck, I clenched my fists at my sides, willing my wolf to stay calm. The taste of her, the feel of her against me--it was all I needed to remember why I was doing this.

I tried to relax my fists as I walked to my truck, my boots scaping against the asphalt in the parking lot. The faint breeze did nothing to cool the heat rushing through my chest. No wolf was going to get close to her without me knowing who they were--or what they wanted.

It realistically could be anybody, but certainly not anyone from my pack. They would have scented me immediately and done the right thing, not to mention I would recognize their scent.

Sliding into the driver's seat of my truck, I started the engine, the low rumble doing little to calm me. My fingers gripped the steering wheel for a long moment before I reached for my phone. I didn't even give Darren a chance to say hello.

"I need to know who the fuck has been with Carina," I said, my voice low and steady, though every word felt like gravel grinding in my throat.

There was a brief pause on the other end. "I've already been on it, pal." Darren's voice was sharp.

"There's a wolf around her. I've smelled him more than once now. I want to know who the hell he is and why he's so close to her. Find out everything you can--without her knowing."

"I already have."

"Who is it?" My blood was rushing at the thought. I had asked him to keep an eye on her while I was gone, but I didn't realize he would be so productive so quickly.

"Amarok. Alpha of the Frost Moon Pack."

With that my blood ran cold. That motherfucker.

Victor Amarok.

The name landed like a punch to the gut.

I clenched the steering wheel, my pulse hammering against my skull.

Victor wasn't just some random alpha. He was dangerous--calculating. He never did anything without a reason. If he was circling Carina, it wasn't by accident.

Darren's voice echoed in my head. "Victor's been spotted at her apartment multiple times."

My fingers curled tighter around the leather. She had no idea. No clue what she was walking into.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to think. This isn't just jealousy. This is a threat.

Victor had played these games before. He'd use charm, gifts, smooth words, pretending to care--until he got what he wanted.

And what if Carina didn't see it coming?

"I need surveillance on Carina," I told Darren, my voice low, steady. Cold. "Full-time. Discreet as hell."

Darren hesitated. "You got it."

"Find out everything. And Darren?" My grip tightened.

"If he even thinks about touching her--I want to know first."

I ended the call, shoving the phone into the cupholder before resting my forehead against the steering wheel. The fury simmered in my veins, but there was something else, something that gnawed at me even more.

She was my mate. He was just playing some political game.

---

-Carina-

By Wednesday evening, the rhythm of my week had settled into its usual hum. Work at the office, then straight home to bury myself in textbooks. Between managing patients all day and the coursework for my degree, I barely had time to think about the... complicated parts of my life. And honestly, that was probably for the best.

It was Wednesday night when I found myself sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, surrounded by a fortress of notes, highlighters, and sticky tabs. My latest purchase, a shiny new book on recent dental health advancements, sat propped open on the coffee table. But my attention kept drifting to the older book resting beside it, its worn leather cover looking out of place amidst the modern chaos of my study materials.

After finishing a particularly tedious chapter on clinical trial design, I finally gave in to the urge. I pushed aside my academic notes and reached for the book, running my fingers over its cracked spine. The leather was soft and cool under my touch, the intricate embossed designs feeling almost alive. Lucy had said this book would guide me, help me learn what it meant to be a witch. At the time, I hadn't been sure whether to laugh or run away, but now... now I wasn't laughing.

I opened the book slowly, half-expecting the blank pages from before, but they weren't. The words were back, glowing faintly, as though they had been waiting for me. "What are you?" I murmured, more to myself than to the book.

To my shock, the text on the page seemed to shimmer faintly, as though responding. My heart skipped a beat, and I blinked, wondering if I'd imagined it.

"Did you... did you just respond?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Several pages turned before laying still again.

"Okay," I said cautiously, leaning in closer. "Let's try this again. What are you?" The words shimmered, several pages flipping before settling on a blank page. Slowly the words materialized.

To the witch awakened, the path is set. Let the power of the moon guide you.

Not this again. The phrase pulsed with a soft light, and the pages shifted again, the book practically alive in my hands. I traced the edge of one page, careful not to press too hard, and whispered, "But, what is my path?"

The ink shimmered and rearranged, forming a simple response: You hold the key. Ask, and I will answer.

The knot in my stomach loosened, replaced by a cautious curiosity. I took a deep breath, biting my lip as I thought about what to ask. "Okay," I said, voice steady. "What is this... energy I've been feeling lately?"

The candle on the coffee table flickered again, the flame dancing in sync with the words that formed on the page: The energy is your connection. The magic of the moon stirs within you. You are awakening, Carina.

My name. Seeing it written there made my breath hitch.

"How do you know my name?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

The book responded immediately, the words appearing in bold, unyielding script: Because you are meant to hold this power.

I stared at the page, my fingers trembling. "Lucy," I said aloud, remembering her cryptic smile when she'd gifted me this book.

I tilted my head, staring at the book as if it might blink back at me. Its answers so far had been straightforward, eerily precise, and entirely unhelpful when it came to making me feel less... awkward about talking to a book. But if it was going to listen and talk, I couldn't just keep calling it "the book."

"Do you have a name?" I asked, unsure if I'd sound ridiculous asking the question.

The words shimmered into view, their reply frustratingly matter-of-fact: I do not. I am simply a grimoire.

"Simply a grimoire?" I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Well, that's boring." I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at the page. "If we're going to be spending time together, you should have a name."

The candlelight flickered, but no new words appeared. Apparently, the grimoire wasn't interested in the idea--or it just didn't care. I pursed my lips, deciding I cared enough for the both of us.

"All right," I said, tapping a finger on the edge of the cover. "Let's see... how about Frank?"

The candle dimmed slightly, and I couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or if the book was offended.

"Not a Frank, huh?" I smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Okay, what about Celine? Taylor? Maybe Alex? You could be an Alex--kind of neutral, very modern for an ancient... magical book."

No response. I frowned, my fingers drumming on the book's cover as I thought harder.

"Or maybe something more dramatic," I said, warming to the idea. "Like Theodora! Or Barnabas!" I paused, scrunching my nose. "No, too stuffy. I don't want to feel like I'm talking to someone's great-great-grandparent."

The book remained silent, its pages still, but I could've sworn the hum of energy felt amused.

"Fine," I sighed, throwing my hands up. "If you're not going to help, I'll just keep guessing." I glanced at the flame dancing on the coffee table. "What about Ember? That's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

The candle flickered brighter, and for a split second, I wondered if I'd hit on something. But when no words appeared on the page, I sighed.

"You know," I said, narrowing my eyes at the grimoire, "this would be a lot easier if you'd just tell me what you prefer. I mean, are you... male? Female? Or do books not have genders?"

The flame seemed to steady, its light unwavering as the book finally responded. I am a grimoire. I require no name.

"Of course you don't," I muttered. "But I require something, so you're getting a name whether you like it or not."

The book didn't reply,

"Ember it is." I nodded to myself, deciding to stick with the only possibly positive reaction I had received. "Congratulations, you're no longer 'simply a grimoire.' You're Ember the grimoire."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a single word appeared on the page, written in faint, shimmering ink: Fine.

I grinned, the tension in my shoulders finally easing. "See? You're already getting into the spirit of things."

With that, I settled deeper into the couch, flipping to the next page.

---

The office was quiet now, the hum of sterilizers the only sound as I wiped down the last chair. The lingering scent of mint and disinfectant hung in the air, mingling with the faint lingering floral fragrance from a patient's perfume. My body ached from the long day, but the satisfaction of finishing up for the evening made it rewarding.

Penny's voice crackled over the radio on the counter, "Hey, Carina? Looks like Robert just pulled up... and, uh, he's got flowers."

I froze, the disinfecting spray still in my hand. Flowers? A smile tugged at my lips as I set the bottle down and smoothed my scrub top. "Thanks, Penny," I replied, already heading toward the front desk. How many flowers can one girl get?

Through the glass door, I saw him--Robert, stepping out of his work vehicle, the Charger. He looked sharp as always in his khaki slacks and black button-down, his badge clipped to his belt. His dirty blond hair caught the golden hues of the setting sun, and in his hands, he held a bouquet of mixed peach and coral roses. My heart did a little flip as I met him at the door. The moment he stepped inside, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a warm hug. His broad shoulders and the subtle scent of his cologne were familiar and comforting, grounding me.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, leaning back slightly to look up into his ocean eyes.

His eyes sparkled as he handed me the bouquet. "Thought you might like these."

The roses were perfect--lush, colorful petals arranged with just the right touch of greenery. I inhaled their sweet scent, the day's exhaustion melting away. "Robert, these are beautiful."

"Just wanted to make sure your day ended better than it started. And to let you know about our plans for Saturday."

I raised an eyebrow, still holding the flowers. "Oh? Plans?"

He chuckled. "Remember that text I sent this morning? About your weekend being free?"

I nodded, my curiosity piqued.

"Well," he began, his voice teasing, "I may have secured us a reservation at Boulton for Saturday night."

My jaw dropped, and I blinked at him in disbelief. "The Boulton? In Atlanta? The place with the mile-long waiting list?"

He grinned and gave me a casual shrug, as if it was no big deal. "I've got some friends in the city," he said, his tone light, but his wink hinted at something more.

A laugh escaped me, pure and unfiltered. "That's amazing! I can't believe it."

He shrugged again, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, easy smile. "Just wanted to give you something to look forward to and give you time to pack. I know how much you like planning ahead."

I leaned up, careful not to crush the roses, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. I'm already counting the days."

We walked back to his car together, giving him a second, more thorough kiss as a thank you for coming by.

As I walked back inside, my cheeks hurt from grinning so much. Penny was waiting, arms crossed, and a smirk plastered on her face. "Well, well, well. Someone's got a secret admirer," she teased, drawing out the words.

"It's not a secret," I shot back, though my voice was light.

"Uh-huh," Penny said, nudging me with her elbow as I set the bouquet on the counter. "Robert, bringing you roses and fancy dinner plans? He's pulling out all the stops."

From the back, Candi joined in, her voice sing-songy. "Robert and Carina sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

I laughed, shaking my head at their antics. "You two are ridiculous."

But nothing could wipe the giddy smile off my face as I cradled the roses in my hands and inhaled their sweet scent again. Their teasing didn't faze me. My heart was light, my mind already wandering to Saturday night, and the promise of something special.

---

The car eased into a tight parallel parking spot with a sharp squeak of tires against the curb. Jessie let out an exaggerated sigh as she shifted the car into park and turned off the ignition. "This is the last time I park in this part of the city. I swear, next time, I'm taking Lyft," she muttered, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and shot her a look. "You always say that, but then you still drive."

"Yeah, because I like controlling when I leave. And if I hear one more horror story about someone getting stranded by a driver canceling mid-trip..."

I grinned. "Okay, fair. But you've got the parallel parking skills of a race car driver, so it's worth it."

"Whatever." Jessie huffed out a laugh. "Anyway, I'm about ready to give up on dating."

That statement caught me mid-reach for my purse. "What happened with Hunter?" I asked, already suspecting the answer wasn't going to be good.

She groaned and slumped back in her seat dramatically. "Hunter," she said, dragging his name out like it physically hurt her to say it, "has a full-time girlfriend. Like, whole-ass relationship, moved-in-together status. Never thought to mention it."

My eyebrows shot up. "No way."

"Way," Jessie said, shaking her head. "I dumped him so fast his head probably spun. The audacity of that man..."

I whistled low. "Good riddance. How do you keep finding these guys?"

Jessie threw her hands up. "I don't know! It's like I'm a magnet for jerks. Not fair you get to have two boyfriends while I can't find one decent one."

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. "They're not my boyfriends," I said. "We're just... getting to know each other."

Jessie turned to me with a smirk that could rival a cartoon villain. "Oh, sure. 'Just talking.' You've always been like this, you know. Since high school. It's not official until you bring them over to meet Mom."

"Exactly," I said with mock seriousness, trying to suppress a smile.

Jessie burst into laughter, and I couldn't help but join her. For a moment, the car filled with nothing but the sound of our shared amusement, drowning out the noise of the bustling city around us.

Finally, Jessie waved her hand dismissively. "Okay, enough about boys. This is our day."

I turned to her, grinning. "Right. Let's do this properly. Rule number one?"

Jessie shouted, "No boys allowed!"

"Rule number two?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Treat yourself!" she declared, pointing a finger at me.

"And rule number three?" We both leaned in closer and said in perfect unison, "Mandatory margaritas and queso!"

We erupted into laughter again, slapping the dashboard in giddy delight. The world outside the car faded as we hyped ourselves up for what promised to be a typical girls' day.

"Alright," Jessie said, clapping her hands together. "Let's go cheat-day some diets and take over this town."

As we passed an assortment of charming storefronts--boutiques with colorful displays, antique shops brimming with curiosities, and cafes buzzing with patrons--we paused occasionally to peer through windows. One shop featured a pair of glittering earrings Jessie insisted were made for her, though she rolled her eyes at the price tag. Another had quirky hand-painted mugs that we couldn't resist joking about.

By the time we arrived at the first shop, we were in full-on shopping mode. The store was cozy, with warm lighting and racks lined with dresses in every imaginable shade and style. I thumbed through the options while Jessie hovered behind me, holding up dresses like a kid presenting art to a parent.

"This one," she said, holding a red cocktail dress to her front. "It's got date-night vibes for days."

I squinted at it. "Too sparkly."

Jessie groaned. "You're difficult."

The next stop had a more eclectic mix, and while Jessie declared a sleek emerald green dress the one, I wasn't sold. It was beautiful, sure, but not right. It didn't spark that giddy yes-this-is-it feeling I was chasing. Jessie tried to convince me otherwise, practically staging an infomercial for the dress, but I shook my head with a laugh.

"Not today," I said. "But I did find these." I lifted a sleek pair of black heels, the kind that looked like they belonged in a power montage from a rom-com.

Jessie nodded approvingly. "Okay, those are killer. Even if you go on the date in pajamas, at least your feet will slay."

By the time we reached our last store, I was starting to lose hope.

"Last stop," Jessie announced dramatically, pushing open the door. "If we don't find a dress here, we're going back to the first shop and bribing the cashier."

I laughed but barely heard her because there it was.

The dress.

Midnight purple, smooth as liquid, with delicate straps and a high slit that made my breath catch. I ran my fingers over the fabric, and something in my soul clicked.

Jessie must have seen my face because she clutched her chest like I'd just proposed. "Oh no. I've lost her. She's in love."

I laughed, but she wasn't wrong. The second I slipped it on, I felt it--sophisticated, powerful, untouchable.

Jessie gaped when I stepped out. "Carina. If you don't buy that dress, I will fight you."

"Good," I said. "Because I'm not taking it off until tomorrow."

We laughed as I reluctantly changed back, but my excitement was bubbling over. I had found the dress--no questions, no doubts. It was mine.

---

-Robert-

I paced the length of my office, boots tapping against the hardwood in a steady, tense rhythm. Frustration burned in my chest, a slow build since the moment Darren walked in with news I didn't want to hear. My fingers raked through my hair before I turned sharply to face him.

"Well?" My voice came out harder than I intended, but I didn't bother softening it. "What did you find?"

Darren shifted in his chair, his usual sharpness dulled by something heavier. That wasn't a good sign. "It's not good, man." He kept his eyes down, voice low. "It's definitely Victor Amarok. I already confronted him and gave a warning. Anything he does after this is on him."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My breath left me in a slow exhale as my mind momentarily blanked. Then, heat rushed in to replace it.

"Fuck." The word barely made it past my clenched teeth.

Darren nodded, his posture guarded. "Yeah. We've had eyes on her for a while now. Victor's previously been spotted at her apartment multiple times. There's no mistaking it."

My hands curled into fists at my sides as I turned away, pacing again. Of course, it was Victor. That smug, cocky bastard. I hadn't seen him in years, and I would've been fine if that never changed. What the hell was he playing at?

The wolf inside me stirred, restless and ready for a fight. I took a deep breath, forcing it back down. This was supposed to be simple. Carina was supposed to be mine--I felt it deep, undeniable. And now, Victor was tangled up in it?

Before, this would've been easy. I could've gone straight to him, put him in his place, made sure he understood exactly who he was dealing with. But things were different now. I wasn't just another alpha--I was the Archalpha. I couldn't act on impulse, couldn't throw my weight around without consequence. There were rules, balances to maintain. Threatening another alpha outright wouldn't fly.

"This complicates things," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

Darren hesitated. "We've got someone watching Victor too, trying to figure out what he's really after. There's got to be more to this."

"I don't care about that right now." My voice came out sharper than intended, irritation seeping through. "I care about Carina. And I care about why she's involved with him. He needs to be out of the picture."

Darren nodded. "I get it."

I stilled, inhaling deeply, trying to focus past the anger brewing inside me. This was never supposed to happen. But it had. And now, I needed a way to handle it.

My jaw tightened. "I'm calling Mary Sue. She's been looking into Carina's bloodline. If there's anything--anything at all--that explains this bond with a human, it's time we find out. I'm done waiting."

Darren stood, sensing the shift in my tone. "I'll keep digging into Victor, but yeah, if there's something in her past that ties to all this... Mary Sue will find it."

I didn't respond. My mind was already locked on Carina, on Victor, on the pieces that didn't fit. Victor could have any woman in the neutral territory between our packs--so why Carina?

I pulled out my phone, fingers flying over the keys as I dialed. Mary Sue was the best at what she did. If there was a missing link, she'd uncover it.

The line rang twice before she answered. "Hi, Robert."

"Any update on Carina yet?" My voice was tight, controlled, but the urgency was there.

A pause. Then, her voice softened. "Not much since my last update, but I might be onto something. One branch of her family tree dead-ends about 300 years ago. I'm looking into it, but it'll take time."

I exhaled through my nose, staring out the window. "That's something. Nothing supernatural yet?"

"Not yet" she admitted. "But you'll be my first call if I find anything."

I hung up, my mind already working through the possibilities. Victor Amarok had made a mistake. I wasn't backing down. Not now. Not when Carina's future was at stake.

Fine. If Victor wanted to play a game, I'd play. But we'd be playing by my rules.

---

The sound of knuckles rapping against the door jolted me from my eyeliner-wielding focus. My hand wobbled mid-swipe, and I cursed under my breath, setting the pencil down before I could make things worse.

A quick glance at the clock sent a spike of panic through me. Four o'clock. Robert wasn't supposed to be here until five. Why was he early? And why now, of all times, when I was still in my bathrobe with half my makeup done?

I darted to the door, tying my robe tighter around my waist as I peered through the peephole. Relief washed over me when I spotted a woman in a courier uniform standing on the other side. Not Robert, thank God--just a delivery. I exhaled and opened the door.

The woman offered me a polite but distracted smile, holding out a clipboard in one hand and a stunning bouquet of flowers in the other. "Delivery for Carina Briggs," she announced.

My eyes widened at the vibrant arrangement of blooms--A breathtaking bouquet with velvety red roses, blush pink and creamy white peonies, golden ranunculus, cheerful daisies, delicate baby's breath, and trailing ivy. They were nestled in a glass vase, but what caught my attention was the sleek black box affixed to the front of it.

"Uh, signature?" she prompted, shaking the clipboard at me.

"For flowers?" I asked, reaching for the pen but still eyeing the box.

She shrugged. "For the package with the flowers."

"Right." I scribbled my name and handed the clipboard back before carefully taking the vase from her. "Thanks."

With the door closed, I carried the arrangement into the kitchen and set it on the counter. My curiosity sparked as I studied the vase. The box was smooth and elegant, with no visible markings to hint at its contents. I tilted my head. Robert wouldn't send flowers when he was about to pick me up in less than an hour... would he?

My mother's voice echoed in my head, reminding me of one of her many rules of etiquette: Always read the card before opening a gift.

Pulling the small card from its holder among the blooms, I flipped it open. My stomach flipped when I saw the name scrawled at the bottom.

Victor.

I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the card, my heart leaping in a way that made me feel slightly guilty. Then my gaze shifted to the box again. Mysterious, tempting, and so very Victor.

I sighed, turning my attention back to the card. "Okay, Victor," I murmured. "What are you up to?"

Carina,

Your eyes, like this stone, are never just one thing.

They're bright and vibrant, soft and warm,

and they hold the kind of magic that transforms everything around them.

I couldn't pass this up without thinking of you.

I hope you think of me every time you wear it.

Victor

I turn the card over, rereading Victor's words as my heart races. A small, involuntary smile tugs at my lips. He has a way of doing that--of saying something effortlessly smooth yet deeply personal, like he can see straight through me.

Setting the card down carefully, I reach for the black box. My fingers tremble slightly as I flip it open, and my breath catches in my throat. Nestled inside is a necklace--a delicate silver chain cradling a black opal surrounded by a tiny halo of diamonds.

The opal glows under the soft kitchen light, its iridescent flecks of green, blue, and fiery orange shifting like trapped sunlight. My fingers brush over it reverently and for a brief moment, I swear I feel something--a faint hum, a flicker of energy that tickles my skin, sending a ripple of awareness through me. My thoughts jump to that day in the bookstore.

"I'm looking for a gift for my sister. She's into crystals," I had told the woman.

I remember my internal scoff at the time, a skeptical smile playing on my lips. Crystals--it had all seemed like harmless fluff, something for the whimsical and the curious. But now, standing here with this necklace in my hand, I wonder if there might be something more to it after all.

My gaze drifts toward the bookshelf, landing on Ember--the old grimoire. It stands out among my other books, its worn leather cover and intricate golden embossing radiating an otherworldly charm. Why wonder when I can ask?

I grab the book and set it gently on the table. The moment my fingers leave the cover, it springs to life. Pages flip wildly, front to back, back to front, as though stretching after a long nap, before snapping shut with a resounding clap.

I jump, startled. "Do you not like the bookshelf? I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, half laughing, half nervous.

Ember responds by flipping open again, this time more delicately, its pages fluttering like a polite nod of acknowledgment.

I place my hand lightly on the book's edge. "I apologize. I won't put you back there again."

The pages were still shimmering faintly.

Taking a steadying breath, I ask, "I wanted to ask you about gemstones. Do they really hold energy and power?"

The parchment glows softly as elegant, shimmering letters appear before my eyes:

"Yes. Almost everything in the natural world, and even many man-made objects, can hold energy. Stones, however, are among the most potent carriers of energy."

My gaze flickers to the necklace, still nestled in its black box. The opal catches the light, its fiery hues shifting as though alive. My heart quickens.

"Does this necklace have any energy?" I ask, my voice softer now, curiosity laced with uncertainty.

Ember's pages flutter rapidly again before settling on a page filled with intricate gemstone illustrations and luminous text. The heading reads: "Opals: Queen of Gems."

I lean in, tracing the descriptions with my fingertips as I read:

'Opals are renowned for their ability to amplify emotions and heighten intuition. They are powerful stones of transformation, often associated with self-discovery and revealing hidden truths.'

My fingers graze the opal again. What had Victor unknowingly given me? Or... had he known?

'They radiate intense energy, providing protection, unveiling hidden talents or abilities, and shielding against negativity and emotional toxicity from others.'

I pause, my breath catching. Hidden talents or abilities?

'Opals also assist in releasing past wounds and severing unhelpful connections. They encourage balance, inviting positive change while helping to process and organize complex emotions.'

I roll my eyes. The chances of Victor using this gift as some half-joke about our current situation seems slim. I laugh, shaking my head, before closing Ember and thanking it for its help.

With a final glance at the necklace, I carefully fasten it around my neck, my fingers brushing over the cool surface against my skin. I decide to wear it for a while, see if anything changes--whether it works or if this is all just a bit of fun.

I turn back to finish getting ready, my thoughts drifting to Victor and what his gift might really mean. Slipping into my dress, I smooth my hands over the deep, rich purple fabric. The floor-length gown hovers between wine and nightshade, dark and mesmerizing. The silky, satin-like material drapes effortlessly over my body, hugging my curves in all the right places. The neckline is a soft cowl, falling naturally, with delicate, barely-there spaghetti straps continuing the minimalism of the overall design. The thigh-high slit added a bold, playfulness, making it easy to move and revealing just enough of my leg as I move. It's sophisticated, timeless--a perfect choice for this evening.

At 5:02pm I hear the knock. I'm quick to open the door.

Robert stands before me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

He looks incredible--powerful, refined, every bit the confident man I know. The black suit he wears fits him impeccably, sleek and modern, yet exuding a timeless charm. The jacket hugs his broad shoulders, tapering down to his trim waist. The fabric gleams slightly under the soft light, the tailored cut emphasizing his muscular build. A cream dress shirt peeks from beneath, subtly patterned with faint pinstripes, and a silver tie bar holds his black silk tie in place. Even his shoes, polished to perfection, gleam like a mirror.

I take him in, admiring how effortlessly the outfit and the man inside it fit together. He looks... untouchable. Like something out of a dream.

I swallow a sigh, wondering what I did to deserve him in my life.

But then I notice--he's staring at me with a stunned disbelief, as if I've somehow knocked the words from his mouth. My grin widens as I step back, letting him take his time. I know I look good tonight.

Robert blinks, his voice thick with wonder. "Holy smokes."

I bite back a blush, feeling seen in a way I never have before. What truly set me apart tonight is my hair--normally a wild mass of curly locks, tonight it's pin-straight, falling well past my shoulders, longer than I've ever worn it. The straightening iron has added several inches, giving a sleek, sophisticated look that's a world apart from my usual style. I felt bold and fearless right now, like I was ready to rob a bank.

Robert takes it all in, his mouth slightly agape.

I can't help but grin, grabbing my lightweight, black chiffon shawl from the back of the door, wrapping it around my shoulders. My clutch, a perfect complement to the dress, is slung over my wrist as I step forward, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before picking up my overnight back and handing it to him.

"Handsome devil," I tease with a playful smirk, "Are you just going to stand there staring at me all day, or are you going to take me out?"

He chuckles, his eyes still filled with admiration. "I might just take you up on that offer to stare all day," he quips, taking my bag and leading me toward the elevator, his smile full of warmth and mischief.

---

As Robert pulls up to Boulton, I feel a surge of excitement rush through me. This is it--I'm about to experience a Michelin-starred restaurant. It's something I've only read about or seen on documentaries, and now I'm here. It almost doesn't feel real.

I barely notice Robert stepping out of the car until he's already rounding the front to open my door. His smile is warm, his hand firm as he helps me out, and I catch myself staring as he effortlessly hands off the keys to the valet. He looks so at ease, so natural in this setting, like he belongs here. Meanwhile, I still feel a little starstruck just standing on the curb.

Inside, the elegance of the place sweeps me up immediately. The ambient lighting casts everything in a soft golden hue, playing off the polished mahogany floors. It feels like stepping into another time--French Art Deco blended with modern sophistication, an intricate dance of gold-leaf details and massive chandeliers. The crystal light refracts in every direction, making the air itself feel alive. Plush velvet-upholstered chairs and tufted banquettes invite guests to settle in, their deep colors adding to the rich, intimate atmosphere. It's stunning. Everything about it feels intentionally curated, a world apart from the one we left outside.

The soft hum of jazz weaves through the clinking of fine glassware and hushed conversations. It's sophisticated, exclusive--and yet, as we follow the host to our table, it doesn't feel overwhelming. Our booth is tucked away just enough to feel intimate, with soft lighting casting a golden glow over the crisp white tablecloth.

Robert confidently suggests a vintage Bordeaux, and as soon as it's poured, the aroma alone is intoxicating. I take a sip, letting the velvety texture settle on my tongue, and I feel myself melt a little more into the evening. The appetizers come soon after--his foie gras, my scallop ceviche--and from the first bite, I know I'm experiencing something special. Each flavor is delicate yet rich, thoughtfully balanced in a way that makes me pause between bites just to savor them. It's a feast not just for the palate, but for the senses.

When our entrées arrive--roasted lamb for him, sea bass with truffle risotto for me--the experience only deepens. Every bite is perfection, and I'm convinced I could happily stay in this moment forever.

Then, a distinguished man passes by, and Robert lights up.

"Hey, Charlie," he says, his voice easy and familiar.

The man stops, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, if it isn't Robert VanHousen. Still solving crimes, or have you decided to let someone else have a turn?"

Robert chuckles, leaning back. "Nah, it's still me. No one else can keep that place in line like I can."

Charlie raises an eyebrow, amused. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. But I'll let you have your fun." Then, his gaze shifts to me, curiosity flickering in his expression. "And who do we have here? Robert doesn't bring just anyone around."

I smile, a little caught off guard but intrigued. "Carina. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Charlie's grin widens. "Pleasure's mine. Take care of him, yeah?" he says with a wink before strolling off.

I turn back to Robert, eyebrows raised. "So... who was that?"

Robert shrugs with a smirk. "Just a family friend, we go way back," Robert says, clearly enjoying my curiosity. "Charlie's a good guy."

Before I can press further, our server appears with a fresh bottle of wine. "Compliments of Mr. Boulton," she says smoothly, setting it down with a smile before walking away.

I freeze. I stare at the bottle. Then at Robert. Then back at the bottle.

"Wait a minute..." My breath catches. "That was Charles Boulton?" I gape at him.

Robert's grin turns downright amused. "Yeah. Old family friend."

I swat his arm, exasperated. "You know THE Charles Boulton? The one whose name is literally on the restaurant?"

He chuckles, clearly reveling in my shock. "Yeah, that's him."

I shake my head, still trying to process it. "You are so full of surprises."

The server reappears, smiling again. "Would you two be interested in enjoying our patio and garden area in the back? It's a lovely way to end the evening."

I quickly nod, eager to experience more of the evening's magic. I take the last sip of wine in my glass, a smile creeping across my face as I think about what other surprises Robert might have up his sleeve.

As the server leads us through a set of elegant double doors, the warmth of the restaurant fades into the refreshing night air. The patio is a stunning sight--soft lanterns flicker gently, casting a cozy glow across the space. The warm, plush seating beside a covered fire pit invites us to settle in, and I can't help but smile at the peaceful ambiance. The night is perfect, the air a bit cooler now, but still comfortable enough for an outdoor evening. There's something magical about being outside in a space so thoughtfully designed.

The server sets the bottle of wine down on the small table beside us and hands us fresh glasses, which I gladly accept. I take a sip, savoring the deep richness of the wine as I lean back onto the plush cushions, bringing my legs up to stretch them out comfortably. A slight giggle escapes my lips as I settle in. The wine, the atmosphere, Robert's company--it's all just so... perfect.

Robert's eyes flicker over me, and I catch the briefest glimpse of something in his gaze. The slit in my dress reveals more of my legs than I'm used to showing, and his attention doesn't go unnoticed. I grin to myself, feeling a mix of excitement and teasing curiosity, unsure whether I want to lean into this or remain coy. But for now, I let the moment flow, and we fall into a deep conversation about the more introspective things in life--dreams, what we want to leave behind, and the responsibilities we carry.

I tell him about my shared dream with Jessie to move to New York and start a new life, he tells me about his goal of training a new detective soon to take over so he can run for Sheriff. The flickering light of the fire pit dances in the background, and I listen intently to Robert as he shares, occasionally catching his eyes again, this time as they linger a bit longer than before.

The evening had flown by, so effortlessly that I barely noticed how much time had passed. A crack of distant thunder rumbled in the sky, the sound deep and rolling. I blinked, looking around and realizing that we were the only ones left on the patio. The lanterns flickered softly in the warm, night air, casting long shadows over the garden. A lone restaurant employee made his way inside, signaling that the place was winding down. It's closing time.

Robert must have been thinking the same thing because he glances at his watch and smiles. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves," he says, his voice warm and casual. "We should probably head out."

I finish off the last of my wine, the smooth red coating my tongue just right. I stand up, and that's when it hits me. My legs feel unsteady, and the world suddenly feels a little too light. My head spins, and I laugh softly. "Uh-oh, I think I may have had a little too much wine."

Robert's arm is immediately there, strong and steady, wrapping around me to keep me from swaying. "Just a little?" he teases, his grin playful, but there's an edge of concern in his eyes.

I lean into him, trying to steady myself, but my laughter bubbles up anyway. "At least I've got my designated driver." My voice is more amused than anything, but I can't help but notice how good it feels to be so close to him.

"You're in good hands." Robert replies, his words laced with warmth.

As we start walking toward the restaurant's entrance, a crackle of lightning arcs across the sky, lighting up the distant horizon. I pause for a moment, watching the flash, the sound of thunder following just seconds later. It's a reminder of how quickly the night's mood has shifted. The air feels heavier now, but it doesn't seem to matter. Robert's arm around me is enough to keep me grounded.

I glance up at him as we walk, feeling that mix of lightheadedness from the wine and something more--something that has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with how natural this feels.

We stepped out of the restaurant, the warmth of the evening still clinging to us. Robert motioned down the street, a smile spreading across his face. "Got us a room just down the block," he said, his voice light with a hint of excitement. My heart skipped a beat, feeling the sense of adventure that was unfolding.

We fell into step together, our arms naturally wrapping around each other, our movements falling into sync. It felt as if we had been walking together this way for a lifetime.

And then--plop. A big fat raindrop splashed on the sidewalk in front of us. I blinked, staring at it, and then another one hit. And another. The sky opened suddenly, the downpour coming so fast and furious that it took me a second to realize what was happening.

I squealed, my laughter mingling with the sound of the rain as it came down in sheets. "Run!" I shouted, pulling Robert with me. We bolted down the sidewalk, the rain pelting us, soaking us instantly.

We ducked for cover under the awning of a nearby building, both of us out of breath, drenched, and laughing hysterically. Robert shakes out his soaked hair, grinning at me, and I can't help but admire how completely unbothered he looks. His soaked shirt clings to him in a way that should be illegal, and for a moment, I forget about the rain entirely.

I leaned into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. His body was warm, and I melted against him as the sound of music drifted from the building behind us. The soft, slow melody of a band playing inside filled the air, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked, my voice teasing but full of wonder.

Robert's eyes softened as he met my gaze. "I'd love to," he said, his voice low and full of affection.

And just like that, we sway together in the rain, our bodies warm despite the chill. The world fades, the city quiets, and it's just us--laughing, drenched, completely lost in the moment.

Then he kisses me.

It's slow, deep, and breathtakingly fearless. I melt into it, my fingers curling in his damp hair, my heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with the rain. The kiss was deep and full of longing, a connection so raw and real that it sent shivers through my body. My hands gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the rain falling around us, making the moment feel even more electric.

But before I could even savor the warmth of his kiss, the door of the bar we were standing in front of swings open, and a few people stumbled out into the rain. I heard a voice cut through the air. "You've never kissed me while dancing in the rain!?" The words were playful but tinged with a bit of frustration.

We both paused, breaking away from each other just enough to glance over. I didn't catch the full expression of the woman's face, but her words lingered, and before either of us could respond, she stomped off away from a befuddled lover, her laughter fading into the night.

I couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles, pressing my face back against Robert's, and he muffled his own laughter into my lips. The moment had slipped into something so personal, and yet, somehow, that interruption made it even more special. We were two people caught in something beautiful, laughing at the absurdity of it all while still holding on to what felt like the most perfect kiss in the world.

-Robert-

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and I couldn't help but smile at how perfectly everything had fallen into place--well, except for the fact that we were both completely drenched. We made a break for it, crossing the street with our arms wrapped around each other, heading toward the hotel entrance just in sight. The moment felt like something straight out of a movie.

I handed over my ID at the counter, and the lady behind the desk gave me a key card without even a second glance. As we approached the elevator, I glanced down and saw a trail of water pooling behind us on the marble floor. Carina burst out laughing, trying to gather the hem of her dress in her hands to keep it from depositing any more water. In doing so, she lifted the fabric high enough to expose her legs again, and I couldn't stop the appreciative look that crossed my face. She caught it, and her smile only grew.

She stopped at a potted plant near the doors, giving her dress a quick wring-out, while I held the elevator open, shaking my head at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The second the doors slid shut behind us, she leaned in and kissed me, the thrill of the night still electric between us. When she pulled back, I knew I was grinning like I'd just won a prize.

"Your hair," I said, barely holding back my laughter.

She blinked at me, confused for a beat, before realization dawned. Her hands flew to her head, fingers combing through what had once been sleek and straight, now a wild, curly mess sticking in every direction. She laughed, the sound bright and uninhibited, and I couldn't help but join her.

"Well, I'm not the only one who looks a little crazy right now," she teased, leaning into me. Despite the wet clothes between us, her cool skin was a refreshing touch.

The elevator chimed, and we stepped off, making our way down the hall. "I had your bag brought up earlier," I told her, glancing back with a playful smile.

She raised a brow at me. "Thought of everything, huh?"

I simply shrugged as I slid the key card into the lock and pushed the door open. The room was spacious, modern, and inviting, with warm lighting and neutral tones that made it feel cozy. The window framed a stunning view of the city lights, twinkling like scattered diamonds below us. Carina walked straight to the window, taking in the view.

As she turned back, her eyes landed on the bottle of champagne on ice, sitting on the table with two glasses beside it. I watched her reaction, grinning as I walked over and popped the cork with a smooth twist. The soft pop of the bottle only made her smile brighten. I adored the sight of that smile.

"To an amazing night," I said, handing her a glass.

She lifted hers, eyes gleaming. "To an unforgettable night."

The glasses clinked, the golden liquid catching the light, and as we took that first sip, I knew that no matter how drenched, disheveled, or ridiculous we looked, this was exactly where we were meant to be.

She took a sip of her champagne, tilting her head back just slightly, her throat moving with the swallow. But I didn't drink. I couldn't.

I was too busy watching her.

Carina stood in the soft golden glow of the hotel room, her damp curls clinging to her skin, framing her face in wild, untamed waves. Stray tendrils curled against the delicate slope of her neck, against the bare skin revealed by her dress--the dress that clung to her now like a second skin, rain-darkened satin molding over every curve.

The city lights beyond the window painted faint patterns on her skin, but nothing was as mesmerizing as the way her eyes sparkled--mischievous, warm, and just a little hazy from the wine we'd shared. She looked like something out of a dream. My dream.

I set my glass down, ignoring the way the bubbles fizzed and popped against the crystal, and took a slow step forward.

She noticed instantly. I saw it in the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breath hitched just enough for me to catch it. The easy amusement in her expression softened, shifting into something else--something quieter, something laced with the same tension thrumming beneath my skin.

Anticipation.

She swallowed the last of her champagne, setting her glass aside just as I reached her. Her hands were empty now, nothing between us.

I lifted my fingers to her arm, trailing them lightly over the bare skin, feeling the chill of her beneath my touch. Goosebumps rose in my wake, a shiver I wasn't sure was from the cold or from me.

She didn't pull away.

Instead, she lifted her chin just slightly, her breath coming slower, deeper, waiting.

My fingers traced higher, over the curve of her shoulder, her damp skin smooth beneath my touch. She was so close now, close enough to catch the subtle hitch of her breath, the rise and fall of her chest.

And God, I wanted her.

But I waited--just for a moment longer, just long enough to let the air between us charge with something heavy, something electric, something that had been building from the second I first laid eyes on her.

Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue just barely grazing her bottom lip, and that was all it took.

I leaned in, my hand sliding up to cradle her jaw as I finally--finally--claimed her mouth with mine.

Her lips were soft, warm, and she melted into me instantly, her hands lifting to grip the front of my jacket, pulling me closer. The kiss started slow, deliberate, a lingering exploration, but the moment I felt her sigh against me, the moment she pressed just that little bit closer, heat flared in my chest.

I deepened the kiss, my other hand sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against me. The wet fabric of her dress was cold against my skin, but she was cool--so damn cool to the touch--and the contrast of her skin on mine sent a shiver through me.

She felt perfect against me.

She was mine.

And nothing, no one, was going to change that.

My fingers found the thin strap of her dress, and I let it slide down her shoulder, and then the other, my touch slow, deliberate. But the fabric clung to her like it belonged there--wet, molded to every inch of her. It resisted, unwilling to part from her skin, and something about that made my pulse spike.

She shivered beneath my touch, her breath catching as my lips traced the newly exposed skin. I felt her fingers tighten against my shirt, felt the heat of her pressing closer, and it sent a slow, burning ache through me.

Carina was trembling beneath my hands, but not from cold.

I traced my fingers down her spine, feeling the way she responded--how her body leaned into mine, how her breath came in slow, uneven pulls.

She looked up at me, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable.

Then, softly--so softly I almost didn't hear it--she whispered, "Robert."

Just my name.

But there was something in the way she said it, something raw, something uncertain.

I cupped her face gently. "What is it, Baby?"

She swallowed, her fingers grazing my chest, tracing patterns over my skin. "I don't want to lose myself in this," she murmured. "I want this to mean something."

I inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the weight of her words.

It already did mean something.

But saying it out loud? That was different. That was something neither of us had dared to admit.

I pressed my forehead to hers, closing my eyes for a moment, just breathing her in.

Then I kissed her--deep, slow, aching.

I wasn't just claiming her.

I was promising her.

Because, God help me, she was already mine.

I deepened the kiss, my mouth claiming hers with more intensity, more hunger. Her lips parted beneath mine, and when I felt the soft sweep of her tongue against my own, I lost just a little more of my restraint.

My hands slid lower, running over the damp fabric of her dress, feeling every curve, every dip. The slickness of the rain-soaked material made it even more intoxicating, the way it clung, the way it moved beneath my hands as I explored her body with slow, aching precision.

Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan against her lips. She knew what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was doing.

I traced my hands down the curve of her waist, seeking the zipper, needing to free her from the dress that refused to let her go. My fingers found it at the small of her back, and I toyed with it for a moment, dragging my lips along the line of her jaw before dipping lower.

She moaned as I pressed a kiss against the hollow of her throat, her body arching into me.

I grinned against her skin. "I like that sound," I murmured.

Her breath came fast, her hands gripping my shoulders as I slowly, agonizingly, began to pull the zipper down. The fabric loosened just slightly, but it still clung, still resisted, as if it was just as unwilling to let her go as I was.

"Stubborn thing," I muttered, my voice rough with amusement and desire.

She laughed, breathless, her fingers tangling in my hair as she tilted her head back, giving me more access. "Maybe it knows something we don't," she teased, but her voice was softer now, edged with something deeper.

I pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone, my hands still working the fabric lower, determined. "I don't care," I said against her skin. "I want you, Carina."

A few more gently tugs and the dress slid over her hips and to the floor.

Her breath hitched, and when I pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes locked onto mine.

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

Her hands slid down my chest, fingers slipping beneath the collar of my jacket, pushing the heavy thing from my shoulders. It came off with some resistance, falling to the floor with a heavy plop. She eyed me for a moment, and I realized that the light material of my dress shirt, now soaking wet, revealed my tattoos clearly through the translucent cotton. Her eyes roamed for just a few seconds before her finger worked the buttons, from top to bottom. One at a time, agonizingly slow. She knew what she was doing.

I kissed her, cutting off her line of sight as I popped the last two buttons on the shirt, stripping it from by body. I pressed her slowly backward, trapping her between me and the wall before pressing further and savoring the feel of her bare skin on mine.

Her breath shuddered as her back met the cool surface of the wall, her body molding against mine with nothing between us now but heat, desire, and the slow, steady rhythm of our breaths.

My hands skimmed her waist, tracing the soft curve of her hips, feeling the way her skin responded to my touch--how she arched ever so slightly, pressing closer, silently asking for more. I didn't rush. I wanted to savor this, to take my time unraveling her, to let the anticipation build between us like the tension in the air before a storm.

Carina's fingers slid over my chest, exploring the ink that decorated my skin, following the curves of the tattoos that were usually hidden beneath layers of fabric. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, like she was mapping me out, memorizing me.

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flickering up to meet mine, dark with something deeper than curiosity. "I knew you had tattoos," she murmured, her voice hushed, almost to herself. "But I didn't know they looked like this."

I smirked, brushing my nose against hers before murmuring against her lips, "Like what?"

She swallowed, fingers dragging lower, over my ribs, down to the hard lines of my stomach. "Like... art."

The way she said it, like she was seeing me for the first time, like I was something worth admiring--it made my chest tighten, made something in me shift.

I kissed her before I could think too hard about it, slow and deep, tasting the remnants of champagne on her lips. She met me with equal hunger, her hands gripping my sides, pulling me impossibly closer.

The heat between us built, undeniable, intoxicating.

My fingers traced up her spine, taking my time, reveling in the way she trembled at the sensation. When I reached the nape of her neck, I tangled my fingers into the damp curls there, tilting her head just enough to expose more of her throat to me.

I took my time exploring it, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the delicate line of her jaw, the hollow of her throat, lower. Her breath came faster, her hands sliding up my arms, nails dragging just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

She was stunning--flushed, breathless, completely wrapped up in me.

And I was completely lost in her.

I pressed a final, lingering kiss to her shoulder before lifting my gaze to hers, searching, waiting.

Her fingers slid back into my hair, her touch gentle yet insistent. "Robert," she murmured, voice low, filled with something raw, something pleading.

That was all it took.

I dropped to my knees. Looking up at her was the most gorgeous view. I wrapped on hand around her ankle, her heels still on her feet. I slid my other hand slowly up her leg meeting the lace of her thong.

I wrapped my fist around the delicate material dragging it down her body. She shivered as they dropped limp at her feet, baring all she had to me. I lifted her leg sliding the lace from around her ankle before pulling the leg aside.

Looking up at her again was a mistake because the look on her face nearly wrecked the grip on my last bit of restraint.

She was holding the wall up as if her life depended on it as I ran my tongue between her wet lips, the taste of her making the restriction of my pants nearly painful. I flicked my tongue over her clit while sliding my fingers around the entrance of her wet pussy. Her hands dug into my hair for support as I slid on finger into her.

The little noises she made were music to my ears as I devoured her, adding another finger. I saw her legs shaking and took it upon myself to grab one leg and place it over my shoulder, then the other, letting her relax against the wall. That's when she really started to come apart.

Her hands tightened in my hair causing a groan to escape my lips as I feasted on her. I could feel her tensing before her climax hit her. The most beautiful sight I had ever seen was her back arching off that wall as she came on my face.

She finally came down from her high with a short sigh.

I slowly lowered her legs before standing before her again, capturing her mouth with mine. Her moans as I tugged at her bottom lip were the tipping point of my resolve.

I lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as I turned, carrying her toward the bed. The moment her back met the sheets, I hovered over her, taking in the sight of her beneath me--this woman who had somehow, without me even realizing it, become my entire world.

I brushed my knuckles over her cheek, watching as her breath caught, as her lips parted just slightly, waiting, wanting.

And then, with deliberate slowness, I kissed her again--deep, consuming, endless.

Tonight, there was no need for restraint.

Tonight, she was mine.