Chapter 4: Chapter 4

LUXURY

I heard Erik long before he reached my door.

His steps, usually crisp and controlled, carried their usual deliberate weight, but tonight, there was something else—a slight hesitation. Almost imperceptible, but there.

And he wasn’t alone.

A softer tread followed his, careful but uncertain. A heartbeat lighter, quicker. Hesitant.

Selene.

Even without seeing her, I knew. The way she moved—measured, as if she wished to disappear into the walls—told me everything. She didn’t want to be here.

Yet, she came.

My fingers pressed against the armrest as I leaned back, the leather groaning beneath me. My touch drifted over the raised bumps of the braille documents on my desk—reports, council matters, shifting patterns within the pack. None of it held my focus.

The door creaked open.

“Alpha,” Erik said, voice level. A slight pause in his breath, a recalibration in his stance. “She’s here.”

I already knew.

Her scent had reached me first—crisp water, damp earth, the faint trace of sweat from a day’s work. No artificial sweetness, no manufactured softness. Just her.

Silence stretched. Erik didn’t move. He was waiting, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

I ignored it.

“Let her in,” I said.

Erik hesitated. Barely a second, but enough for me to catch it. Then the shift of fabric as he turned.

I stood, the leather of my chair flexing under the motion, and I heard Erik pause—just briefly—before he opened the door once more and went out.

“Come in, Selene,” I called, my voice cutting through the thick stillness.

A beat. The faintest shift in her breath.

Then, she crossed the threshold.

The moment she entered, the air in the room shifted.

I felt it in the way she moved—hesitant but controlled. Her steps were quiet, but not out of fear. This was something else. The kind of silence that came from years of knowing how to go unnoticed.

She stopped just a few feet away. I could sense her waiting, hear the slight shuffle of fabric as she adjusted her stance, unsure of whether to bow, speak, or simply exist in this space.

“Selene Artemis,” I said, voice even. “You may look at me.”

A hesitation. A flicker of a heartbeat.

She didn’t lift her head fully, but I felt the shift—the minute adjustment in her posture, the quiet deliberation of someone toeing a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

Not defiant. But not fully obedient either.

Interesting.

“Sit.” I gestured toward the chair across from me.

A pause. Then the slow, controlled creak of wood as she lowered herself into the seat.

She was composed, but I heard the restraint in her breathing, the way her hands curled ever so slightly against the fabric of her tunic. She was holding herself together, bracing for something she couldn’t yet name.

I leaned forward, and her breath hitched.

“Six years,” I said, running my fingers idly over the braille text before me. “And still no shift.”

A sharp inhale. A reaction she tried to smother.

“I don’t know why, Alpha,” she murmured. “I’ve tried.”

Tried. As if effort could bend nature to her will.

“And yet, nothing.”

I listened for the shift in her breath, the clench of her fingers. She kept still, but she wasn’t unaffected.

“You’ve never considered leaving?”

A pause. “Where would I go?”

A practiced answer. Too even, too rehearsed.

“The pack is my home.”

She wanted it to be true. But I heard the hesitation wrapped around those words.

I exhaled through my nose. “And your parents?”

The question struck like a blade.

Her pulse stuttered.

“They don’t care about me, Alpha.” Her voice was precise, deliberate. As if she rehearsed saying it enough times to keep it from cutting. “They never did.”

I nodded, fingers skimming the raised letters on the page, though I wasn’t reading them.

Not caring wasn’t unfamiliar to me.

Neither was pretending it didn’t matter.

The silence between us stretched. Heavy, expectant.

I let her sit in it. Let her feel the weight of what she hadn’t yet answered.

“What are you waiting for, Selene?”

The stillness was absolute.

Her breath faltered for half a second.

“I…” She hesitated. “I’ve waited for my wolf.”

A pause. A hesitation so thick it nearly swallowed the next words before they could leave her lips.

“But if it never comes…”

~If it never comes, what am I?~

I tilted my head, considering her.

Her breath was uneven now, caught somewhere between control and something rawer, something she didn’t want me to notice. But I did.

I always did.

I remained standing, letting the silence stretch. The space between us felt charged, heavier than it should have been, as if something unspoken clung to the air.

Selene hadn’t moved. I could feel her presence—how tightly wound she was, how still she forced herself to be. A single word, a shift in tone, and I knew she would either bolt or steel herself further.

Her pulse was fast. Not erratic. Just…heightened.

Like she was bracing for impact.

I exhaled slowly, turning as I reached for the edge of my desk. The movement was deliberate, the faintest brush of my fingers against the wood barely making a sound, but I felt her reaction anyway. The subtle inhale. The way she tensed even though I hadn’t touched her.

Then, with purpose, I sat.

The leather of my chair creaked as I settled into it, and I could hear the whisper of her breathing shift, as if she were adjusting to my movements.

I rested one hand lightly over the braille papers before me. Not reading. Just grounding myself in the texture.

Then, low and even, I gave the command.

“Come here.”

She stiffened.

Not much, but enough for me to hear it. The pause in her breath. The subtle shift in her weight, like she was caught between instinct and obligation.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

I waited.

She wasn’t disobeying, not outright. She was thinking. Calculating.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of her tunic, a barely-there sign of hesitation. But I knew she would come.

And then—she did.

Slowly.

I heard the soft sound of her rising from the chair, the gentle rustle of fabric, the careful placement of her feet as she took measured steps forward.

Deliberate. Controlled.

But not unaffected.

She stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body in the space between us.

Close enough that she had to fight the instinct to retreat.

I waited. Just a second longer. Just enough time for her to settle into the uncertainty of this moment.

“Look at me, Selene,” I said, voice soft, almost too soft, though the command was still there. “I won’t bite. I promise.”

The words lingered in the air, an invitation wrapped in something more. She had always been taught to avoid eye contact, especially with someone of my rank.

I couldn’t see her, but I felt the shift. She wasn’t meeting my eyes—I knew that much. But she was looking at me. Her breath was shallow, hesitant, but she held her ground. Just barely.

She was waiting. For something to happen. For something to prove she belonged.

I leaned forward, my chair creaking beneath me, letting the silence stretch between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable.

No, it was...charged. Like the world was waiting, just as she was, for something to break the tension.

“I wasn’t born normal either, you know,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet with an unexpected edge.

A flinch. Just the slightest movement.

She hadn’t expected me to open up. Not like this.

I let the words settle before continuing.

“I was born blind. From the day I took my first breath, people questioned my ability to lead, to fight, to even survive.” I exhaled slowly, letting the silence linger. “But I proved them wrong.”

I reached out, slow, deliberate. Not touching, just letting the air between us move.

Her pulse quickened.

“You’re not the only one who’s had to fight, Selene,” I murmured, my voice low, intimate. “Not the only one who’s been waiting for something to change. For something to make them feel like they belong.”

And then, without hesitation, my hand found her lower belly.

The heat of her skin met my palm, warmth pulsing through her like a barely flickering ember.

I could feel it.

The energy beneath the surface. The wolf that had not yet come. Her breath stuttered and her body trembled. Barely, but not from fear. From anticipation. From something deeper.

“You’re a wolf, Selene,” I murmured, my fingers resting just against the fabric of her tunic, my touch barely there but impossible to ignore. “You’ve always been one.”

A swallow, thick with emotion.

Her body was tense, but she wasn’t resisting.

I let my hand shift, sliding to her waist, feeling the way she tensed beneath my touch.

She didn’t pull away.

I didn’t let her.

“Relax,” I whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

And then, before she could comprehend what was happening, I guided her onto my lap.

There was no space between us now.

Her back rested against my chest, and her breath was uneven.

She was still braced, still holding herself together, but I felt the way she softened.

This—this—was different.

The air was thick, heavy with unsaid things. There was no room to hide. Her pulse was racing beneath her skin. I could feel it.

And I knew she could feel mine too.

“I’ve been where you are, Selene,” I murmured, my thumb tracing the soft curve of her waist. “Waiting. Wondering. But I’m telling you now, you’re not alone in this.”

Her body was tense, but not in rejection.

In waiting.

I shifted slightly, the space between us charged, but neither of us moved.

“When your wolf comes, it’ll come with fire. And when it does…everything will change, Selene.”

Her breath faltered as my words settled into her skin.

And still, I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

Something about her—something raw, something untamed—called to me. Pulled me in.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” I murmured, “But I see you. And I’m not letting you go through this alone anymore.”

She was still.

“You will be mine to mentor, Selene.” I said, each word deliberate. “You’ve waited long enough.”

Her pulse jumped, just once and she swallowed, her body barely moving, but I felt the tension roll through her. The sensation of her beneath my hands sent an unexpected pulse of heat through me. I inhaled, taking in her scent.

Something raw. Something primal.

Her body responded to mine, and I couldn’t ignore it.

Didn’t try to.

My hands traced over her waist, her frame fitting against mine like she belonged there. I felt the heat of her skin, the hesitation in her muscles, the sharp, shallow breaths she tried to control.

I forced myself to release her, though every part of me screamed to keep her closer.

“You’ll move into my wing.”

A sharp, unsteady inhale.

“You will train under me,” I continued. “Until we find the truth of what you are.”

Another breath. She was struggling to keep herself still. The woman had spent years keeping her distance. Now, she would be in my space.

Close.

Very close.

I leaned back, allowing the weight of the moment to settle over us.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “We begin.”