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"Henderson!" His voice thundered through the terrace, bringing his estate manager rushing through the French doors. "Miss Morgan is to have unrestricted access to every part of this estate. Whatever she needs, whenever she needs it."

The manager nodded, clearly startled by the rare display of visible anger from his boss.

Nereus reached into his pocket and retrieved a set of keys, tossing them onto the table where they slid to a stop in front of Isolde.

"The silver Aston Martin in the east garage," he said, his voice deceptively calm while rage boiled beneath the surface. "Go wherever you want, whenever you want. You are no prisoner here. And I am no creep."

His eyes—now glinting with flecks of turquoise as his wolf pushed against his control—locked with hers.

"But know this, Isolde Morgan. When that power inside you surges again—and it will—when the ocean responds to your fear or anger or whatever emotion you can't control, you'll wish I had been more 'controlling. '"

With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the terrace, his footsteps echoing against the marble flooring. The wolf inside him howled for him to return, to claim his mate, to make her understand—but his pride wouldn't allow it.

Creepy? The word scorched his mind like acid. Three centuries of leadership, of sacrifice, of waiting for his Luna—only for her to label him a predator for trying to protect her. And after he'd arranged her favorite breakfast. After he'd committed millions to rebuilding her workplace.

He stalked through the east wing, past startled staff members who quickly flattened themselves against walls to avoid his path. The scent of their fear only fueled his rage. They knew better than to approach an alpha in this state.

He punched in the code to his private training room with such force that the keypad screen nearly cracked.

The massive oak doors swung open to reveal a state-of-the-art combat facility that blended ancient tradition with modern technology.

Weapons that had belonged to his ancestors—swords, axes, and staffs dating back to Viking times—lined one wall.

The polished hardwood floor gleamed beneath recessed lighting.

"Computer, combat simulation level nine," he growled, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His muscles rippled beneath his bronze skin as he rolled his shoulders.

"Warning: Level nine requires protective gear," the AI system responded.

"Override." His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Authorization Alpha-1."

He selected a wooden staff from the wall, testing its balance with a quick spin that blurred through the air.

The familiar weight centered him as holographic opponents materialized around him—fighters programmed with the combat techniques of every martial discipline known to mankind. And a few known only to shifters.

The first opponent lunged. Nereus pivoted and struck, the staff connecting with bone-breaking force. Three centuries of anger from waiting for a Luna, who clearly despised him, channeled through his strike.

"You want to see controlling?" he snarled as he whirled and caught another attacker with a sweeping blow that would have shattered a real human's ribcage. "I could have ordered you confined to this castle. Could have forced the mate bond."

A holographic blade sliced across his shoulder, drawing blood. Nereus barely felt it, his wolf healing already initiating as he spun and struck back with savage precision.

"Instead, I give you freedom. I give you fucking car keys and rebuild your workplace."

Four attackers converged simultaneously. Nereus launched into the air, staff whistling as he took them all down in a whirlwind of controlled violence. Sweat gleamed on his chest and back, highlighting the sculpted muscles honed through centuries of combat.

Xavier's voice cut through his concentration. "Trying to destroy the training room again?"

Nereus didn't pause his assault as his beta leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "Computer, pause simulation."

The holograms froze mid-attack. Nereus stood in their midst, chest heaving, blood trickling from the few lucky strikes they'd landed.

"She called me creepy ." The words burned his throat. "My Luna."

Xavier's eyebrows shot upward. "The human?"

"Her name is Isolde." Even furious, Nereus couldn't tolerate disrespect toward his Luna. "And she thinks I'm controlling her."

"Aren't you?" Xavier's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "That's what alphas do."

Nereus hurled the staff across the room where it embedded itself into the wall. "Not like that. She thinks I'm some human predator."

"Maybe that's because she is human ." Xavier pushed away from the doorframe, approaching cautiously. "They don't understand our ways. Their women are taught to fear powerful men."

Nereus ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "She caused a tsunami, X. She could kill everyone on this island without even trying. What am I supposed to do? Let her walk away?"

"The Luna chooses the alpha as much as he chooses her," Xavier reminded him. "You can't force this, no matter how much your wolf demands it."

Nereus closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of the ocean—of Isolde—still clung to him despite the workout. His wolf whined, already missing her presence.