Page 45

S IENNA

“Everything smells like privilege. I feel like blowing my head off,” I cursed under my breath. It was suffocating me.

This was my boss' idea. It wasn’t fate.

“Go to the gala, Sienna,” she’d said, barely looking up from her gold-plated desk. “Rub elbows with the elite. Show them you’re more than just a paralegal who fetches coffee.”

They say fate doesn’t knock; it kicks the door down and dares you to run. For twenty years, I’d been running, chasing shadows. But tonight, I walked into the gala, and I didn't just meet my fate—I collided with it, and its amber eyes made damn sure I’d never run again.

The gala buzzed with a kind of energy I didn’t quite understand and definitely didn’t enjoy. Everything sparkled—people, chandeliers, and even the ice cubes in the cocktails. And me? I was trying not to look like the lost intern fumbling her way through a maze of stilettos and tailored suits.

Easy for my boss to say that I should rub elbows with the elite. She wasn’t here, and I was drowning in a sea of silk and fake laughter.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, a sleek black number I’d borrowed from my roommate, who swore it would “turn heads”. So far, it had turned one too many when I passed by some guy who promptly spilled his champagne. Not the start I was hoping for.

My plan? Stay sober, smile a lot, and avoid making enemies. A tall order considering my luck.

The room was packed with people pretending to enjoy themselves while making deals behind fake smiles.

It was the kind of crowd that had always made me uncomfortable.

But I didn’t have a choice. Tonight wasn’t about me or my preferences; it was about proving I belonged here—despite the half-werewolf blood coursing through me that always made me feel out of place with humans, despite my boss’ cutting remarks, and despite the lingering ghost of my past.

I had spent my whole life as an outsider.

Raised by my mother, the only constant in my world, I never knew my father.

The only thing I knew about him was that he was a werewolf.

At eighteen, when she became ill, she told me he was alive, somewhere.

She had shown me a picture of him when he was in his twenties.

That was the hope she had given me. It was a cruel thing to hand a girl who had no breadcrumbs to follow.

I’d searched for years. Found nothing. Whoever he was, he didn’t want to be found.

I didn’t hate him. How could I hate a man I’d never met?

It didn’t matter now. Mom was gone. I’d built a life on my own terms, and I was proud of it.

Becoming a lawyer wasn’t just a career move; it was my rebellion against the chaos of my past. It was my way of fighting for people who were just as lost as I’d been.

That’s when I spotted her: Vivienne Fontaine, a new client of our firm and the very definition of "too much".

Her platinum hair, diamond choker, and figure-hugging gown screamed, "I’m even richer than you imagined".

She was chatting with a group of equally fabulous women, but her icy gaze cut through the crowd when she spotted me, waving at me to join her.

I swallowed hard, plastering on my best I-don’t-hate-you smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Fontaine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before I could escape, her husband joined us—an older man with a tan and a shark-like grin. He wore a navy suit that probably cost more than my rent for the year.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said, extending his hand. His handshake lingered a second too long. His eyes skimmed me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Call me Gerald, beautiful. Have we met before?You bear a striking resemblance to someone I knew.”

Vivienne’s sharp laugh pierced the air. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, darling. She’s much too smart for you.” She patted his arm, then turned her attention back to me. “Isn’t that right, dear? You’re here to build your career, not entertain aging playboys.”

“Exactly,” I said, holding back a smirk. “I’m focused on finding clients. Feel free to recommend some.”

Gerald chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe? Vivienne waved it off, clearly enjoying the show.

“Oh, you’re feisty. I like that,” he said. He muttered something else, winking at me.

I glanced at Vivienne, half-expecting her to claw his face off, but she just sipped her champagne. “Men,” she drawled. “You’d think they’d evolve.”

“Well, Mrs. Fontaine,” I said, straightening up. “It’s been an…enlightening chat, but I should—”

“Go mingle,” Vivienne interrupted, shooing me off like a child. “Find someone who’ll actually take you seriously. And stay away from the wine—it’s dreadful this year.”

I nodded, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. As if I was going to make it through this night without a drink. Even lawyers have to survive nights like this. And apparently, that survival required wine.

At the bar, I reached for a glass of Merlot, praying for the strength to get through this night. But as I turned, I collided with what felt like a brick wall. My wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of my glass as I stumbled back.

“Careful there,” a deep voice rumbled. The person I had run into steadied me with a hand on my arm.

I didn’t see his face at first. What I noticed was his scent—rich, woodsy, with a hint of spice. It wrapped around me like a velvet rope, and my wolf, dormant for so long I’d almost forgotten she existed, surged to life. She clawed at me, howling, growling, screaming one word over and over.

Mate!

I looked up—way up—into the face of a man who could have been sculpted by the gods themselves.

Black hair framed sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass.

But it was his eyes that caught me, glowing amber under the dim lights, like molten gold.

They held mine, unblinking, as if he were searching for something.

My breath hitched.

My wolf stirred again, with a sensation I had never felt all my life. She was usually quiet, dormant, overshadowed by my human side. But now? She was wide awake, pacing, howling, clawing at me to get closer to him.

Mate!

I didn’t need her to tell me. I felt it—the pull, the heat.

Mate!

My hand tightened on my glass as I looked up, heart hammering.

He towered over me, his presence as consuming as his scent.

His black hair was swept back from his forehead, a few strands rebelliously falling into his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, his were sharp and piercing, like they could see right through me.

He looked like he was experiencing the same pull I was, if not more.

He was trying to find his bearing just like I was, being swept by the very essence of our two existences colliding.

The mate bond. But how could it be?

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.

“What’s your name?” His voice had softened, but the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. He was closing the distance. The pull between us was almost unbearably strong. It was almost like there was nothing we could do about it.

“Sienna.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, a small, knowing smile. “Sienna. I’m Damian.”

My breath hitched. The name suited him—strong, commanding, timeless.

“Damian,” I echoed, the word tasting strange and familiar all at once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice doesn’t cover it,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

I blinked, thrown off balance. “For what?”

“For you.”

My wolf howled, thrilled, but my human side fought to keep control. “You’re awfully confident for someone who just met me.”

“Confidence, yes. Wrong? No.” His voice dropped lower, like a secret meant only for me. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

I couldn’t lie. The pull between us was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just attraction; it was gravity, a force that demanded we orbit each other.

“You’ve been waiting?” I asked, trying to ground myself in the conversation instead of the heat building in my chest.

“Longer than you can imagine.” He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking to nothing. “And I’d given up hope. Thought I’d go my whole life without finding you.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Everything about him—his voice, his gaze, his presence—demanded my attention.

And the bond between us only grew stronger, pulling me closer like a tide I couldn’t fight.

He seemed to be in his early forties but had a charm that felt younger.

I had never had a preference when it came to age, but right now, I wondered if that was really true. Damian was clearly my type.

“Come with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Where?”

“Somewhere quieter.”

I hesitated, but only for a second. My wolf pushed me forward, and I followed him out of the crowded ballroom and into a private elevator.

The ride was silent, but the tension between us spoke volumes.

I could feel his eyes on me, could sense the restraint in his posture. He was holding back, just barely.

When the doors opened, I stepped into a lounge that took my breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, a sea of glittering lights stretching endlessly into the night. A sleek sofa bed sat in the center, illuminated by soft, golden light.

“Impressive,” I said, turning to face him.

“You haven’t seen the best part.”

He walked to the windows, gesturing for me to join him. The view was stunning, but it was nothing compared to the man standing beside me.

“Do you bring every girl here?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Only the one that I am fated to.” I felt his gaze on me again, heavy and unrelenting.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was softer now, but no less intense.

I nodded, unable to lie. “Yes.”

“I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you, Sienna,” he said, stepping closer. “And now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting go.”