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Bertram joined him at the garden's edge, his walking stick tapping softly against the stone path. "And once you reach the city? Miami has thousands of humans."

A smile tugged at the corner of Orion's mouth. He tapped his chest where the faint pull of the mate bond thrummed like a second heartbeat. "I can track her. The bond may be new, but it's strong enough."

"The council will want to send guards?—"

"No." Orion's tone left no room for argument. "The last thing I need is a pack of wolves drawing attention in downtown Miami. This is something I must do alone."

Bertram sighed but nodded. "Years as our king has earned you that right, I suppose. What shall I tell the council?"

"Tell them I'm handling a delicate diplomatic matter that requires my personal attention." Orion started walking back toward the castle, his stride purposeful. "Because that's exactly what this is."

"And when you find her?"

Orion paused, the question stirring something possessive in his chest. "When I find her, I bring her home where she belongs."

Back in his royal chambers, Orion paced rather than slept. The elegant four-poster bed with its meticulously arranged pillows and linens remained untouched as the night hours slipped away. He stood at the window instead, watching the stars wheel across the sky, counting the minutes until dawn.

When exhaustion finally claimed him, his dreams were vivid and insistent. A woman with flowing black hair and eyes like emeralds walked through mist. He could never see her face clearly, just glimpses—the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips, her fingers reaching toward the night sky as if counting stars. Every time he approached, she slipped away like smoke, leaving behind a scent he couldn't quite capture but desperately wanted to breathe in.

He woke before his alarm, drenched in sweat and painfully aware of the empty space beside him. Space that had been empty for years but only now felt like a void.

"Enough," he muttered, throwing off the tangled sheets. The eastern sky showed just the first hint of gray as he showered and dressed—dark jeans, a white Henley that stretched across his broad chest, and a leather jacket. Clothing that would help him blend into the human world while still allowing freedom of movement if trouble found him.

At the private dock, The Moonchaser bobbed on gentle swells, its sleek lines cutting a distinguished silhouette against the lightening horizon. Forty feet of expertly crafted luxury that would serve his purpose perfectly—fast enough to slice through the waves to Miami, sophisticated enough not to draw the wrong kind of attention when he docked.

He jumped aboard with practiced ease, his body remembering the rhythms of the boat despite years since he'd last taken it out. Why bother with mainland excursions when the island provided everything he needed?

Until now.

The engines rumbled to life beneath his hands, and he felt a surge of anticipation that matched the purr of the finely-tuned machinery. As the eastern sky bloomed with the first golden rays of daylight, Orion guided the Moonchaser away from the dock, leaving the ancient castle silhouetted against the dawn.

"I'm coming for you," he whispered to the bond pulsing inside him, stretching across the water toward Miami. "Ready or not, Luna."

THREE

SERAPHINA

Seraphina jolted awake the next morning and found her sheets twisted around her legs. The sunlight streamed through her bedroom window, gentle and warm, but did nothing to ease the chill that had settled in her bones. She rubbed her eyes as the remnants of her nightmares clung to her consciousness.

"What is going on with me?" she whispered to the empty room.

Images from her birthday flashed through her mind—the spilled wine on Abby's white dress and the woman in the parking lot nearly getting hit. Predictions. Visions. Impossibilities that science couldn't explain.

Seraphina reached for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time. Already past nine. Her head throbbed with exhaustion. No way she could focus on star charts and celestial calculations today. She dialed Dr. Whitman's number, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Astronomy department, Dr. Whitman speaking."

Seraphina cleared her throat. "Hi, Dr. Whitman. It's Seraphina. I'm not feeling well this morning. I think I need to take a sick day."

"You never take sick days, Seraphina." His voice carried a note of concern. "Is everything all right?"

"Just... didn't sleep well. Probably overdid it at my birthday celebration."

"Ah, the big three-o. Take care of yourself. We can manage the observatory data today."

"Thanks, I appre?—"

The words died in her throat as her vision blurred. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor as the room around her dissolved.