Page 4

THREE

NEREUS

T he silence seemed to stretch endlessly between them as Nereus's concern for his Luna grew exponentially.

Finally, the young woman with the head wound looked up at him. "No. This is everyone who was on shift tonight. Just the night crew."

The older scientist he'd just rescued nodded in agreement. "Everyone who signed in is accounted for. Though the building is—" he gestured weakly at the demolished research station.

Nereus turned and stared out at the now placid ocean.

The water had calmed again, mirroring the star-filled sky above as if nothing had happened.

No hint remained of the tidal wave's fury except for the completely demolished marine research station, broken trees, and debris scattered across what had once been a pristine beach.

But Nereus didn’t care about the damage right now. Property could be replaced. What concerned him was the fact that his Luna was somewhere nearby—he could feel it in every cell of his being—yet nowhere to be seen.

"You're absolutely certain?" He turned back to the scientists, his eyes narrowing. "No visitors? No one walking the grounds?"

"Just us, sir," the middle-aged man answered. "It was a quiet night until..." He trailed off, gesturing at the destruction around them.

"The security logs would confirm it," added the young female scientist, "if they weren't now at the bottom of the ocean."

Nereus stared back at the water, that pull deep within his chest was stronger than before. The ocean itself seemed to be calling to him, an invisible tether tugging him toward the horizon.

"She's still out there," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" asked the older scientist.

Nereus ignored him and quickly headed for his truck to grab his phone. "I'm calling for help," he announced over his shoulder. Once at his truck, he called emergency services. The call was brief and precise—his centuries of alpha leadership made crisis management second nature.

"Ambulances are on their way," he informed the scientists once he made his way back to them. "Stay together and keep warm. Help will arrive soon."

The young woman frowned. "Where are you going?"

But Nereus had already turned away, striding back to the ocean’s waters with purpose. The tugging sensation grew more insistent with each step.

"Hey!" called one of the men. "You can't go back out there. It could still be dangerous!"

Nereus laughed darkly. He was the most dangerous predator these waters had seen in centuries. "I'll be fine."

Without another word, he dove into the surf, his powerful arms carving through the water with effortless precision. The ocean welcomed him like an old friend, the saltwater sliding against his skin with familiar comfort. With each stroke, the pull grew stronger, drawing him farther from shore.

He swam and swam, following nothing but the insistent tug in his chest and the ancient magic that bound him to his mate. The shoreline faded behind him, first becoming a thin line of lights, then disappearing altogether. Still, he pressed on.

"Where are you taking me?" he growled at the ocean around him.

Only the gentle lapping of waves against his shoulders answered. The moon above cast silver light across the endless expanse of water, marking a path that seemed to lead nowhere.

After so many centuries, Nereus felt something unfamiliar stir within him—uneasiness. The Alpha of the Seafang pack was swimming blindly into the Atlantic, following an instinct he couldn't explain to find a mate he had never met.

"This is madness," he muttered, treading water for a moment and scanning the empty horizon. Yet the pull remained, urging him onward.

In three hundred years of ruling his territory, Nereus had never felt so compelled by something he couldn't control. It chafed against his alpha nature to follow instead of lead, and to react instead of command.

The water around him shifted suddenly, currents swirling in unnatural patterns. His mate's magic—untrained but powerful—was still at work in these waters.

"Playing hard to get, are you?" he said to the empty ocean.

With renewed determination, he dove beneath the surface, his powerful legs propelling him deeper into the Atlantic's embrace. He would find her no matter what it took.

Before long, Nereus broke the water's surface, gasping for air. He had been swimming for miles, following that inexplicable magnetic tug that hummed beneath his skin. The moonlight gleamed across the water as he scanned the horizon again, and that's when he saw her.

A woman clung to what looked like a broken piece of wood, perhaps part of the research station's dock. Her blonde hair spread across the improvised raft like seaweed, her body limp but somehow maintaining a precarious hold on the floating debris.

"Finally," he growled, swimming toward her with renewed vigor.

As he approached, the pull inside his chest intensified to an almost painful degree. Even before he reached her, he knew—this was his Luna. The ocean's magic had found her before he could and had swept her away from land, testing them both.

"Hey," Nereus called, treading water beside her. "Can you hear me?"

No response. Her face was slack, peaceful almost, despite the dire circumstances.

Water lapped at her curves, her clothes clinging to her body in a way that momentarily distracted him.

She was striking—full breasts and generous hips that appealed to his wolf's ancient preferences.

But more pressing was the fact that she wasn't conscious.

"Wake up." He grasped her shoulder, giving it a firm shake. Nothing.

He tried to position her arms around his neck, planning to swim them both back to shore. "Work with me here," he muttered as her limbs refused to cooperate, sliding back into the water.

Each time he attempted to secure her, she slipped farther beneath the surface. His frustration mounted—he was the Alpha of the Seafangs, commanding hundreds of wolves across his Northeast territory. He wouldn't be defeated by something as simple as rescuing one unconscious woman.

"Come on," he snarled, watching her slide underwater again. The ocean seemed to be challenging him, testing whether he was worthy of his mate.

There was only one solution. With a grunt of resignation, Nereus released his grip on humanity.

His bones cracked and reshaped, muscles twisting and reforming as fur sprouted across his body.

His clothes tore away, carried off by the current as his wolf form emerged—larger than any natural wolf, with a thick coat of salt-and-pepper fur that repelled water efficiently.

The transformation complete, he dove beneath the surface.

His powerful jaws gently closed around the back of her shirt, and with his strong neck, he pulled her up onto the floating board.

His wolf form's swimming capabilities far exceeded his human limitations.

With her balanced on the board, he pushed it forward with his muzzle, swimming alongside.

The journey back to shore took nearly an hour, fighting currents that seemed determined to pull them back out to sea. By the time his paws touched sand, exhaustion weighed every limb. This stretch of beach was deserted, far from where he had left the scientists.

He dragged her fully onto the shore, careful not to scratch her with his claws. In the moonlight, he could see her chest rising and falling shallowly. She was alive, but still unconscious. He nudged her cheek with his muzzle, her skin cool against his fur. No response.

With a low growl, he shifted back to human form, his bones cracking and rearranging once more until he stood naked beside her, water droplets sliding down his muscled torso.

"Wake up," he demanded, kneeling beside her. Her face remained passive, her long blonde hair tangled around features that even in unconsciousness conveyed both strength and gentleness.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the faint pulse of magical energy beneath her skin. So this was his Luna—the one the ocean had delivered to him on the tide of her own awakening power. The connection between them hummed like an electric current, undeniable and ancient.

"You've caused quite a bit of trouble already," he said, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.

He then pressed his fingers to the woman's neck, finding a weak pulse that faltered beneath his touch. Her skin had started to take on the ghostly pallor that spoke of too much time in cold water, her lips tinged with blue.

She suddenly stopped breathing.

"Don't you dare die on me," he growled.

The primal pull of their mate bond still thrummed in his veins, impossible to ignore. A trio of centuries of waiting, and he had found her only to lose her? Unacceptable.

He tilted her head back, pinching her nose shut with one hand while the other lifted her chin. Without hesitation, he sealed his mouth over hers, breathing life into her still lungs. Her lips were cold, salty with ocean water, yet the contact sent a jolt of electricity surging through his body.

He pulled back, watching her chest rise with his breath, then fall without response. Again he breathed for her, counting the seconds, demanding that she live with each exhale.

"Breathe," he commanded between breaths, his voice rough with an unfamiliar emotion.

On the fifth breath, her body jerked beneath his hands. She convulsed, coughing violently as seawater spewed from her mouth. He quickly rolled her onto her side, supporting her as she purged the ocean from her lungs.

"That's it," he murmured, his hand steady on her back. "Get it all out."

Her coughing subsided to ragged gasps, and he finally got his first proper look at her face filled with color. The sight stole the breath from his own lungs.

She was exquisite. High cheekbones framed eyes currently shut in distress.

Her lips, no longer blue but a natural pink, were full and soft.

Golden hair, though tangled with sand and seaweed, cascaded around her shoulders.

Even soaked and half-drowned, she possessed an ethereal beauty that made his wolf stir restlessly beneath his skin.

But as her eyes fluttered open revealing irises the exact color of a stormy sea—he froze in shock.

Human. She was unmistakably, completely human.

The realization hit him like a speeding train.

How could his Luna be human? His entire life, he had avoided entanglements with humans.

Their fragile lives and limited understanding made them poor matches for wolf royalty.

Every Luna in Seafang history had been wolf-born, awakening to her power on her thirtieth birthday like clockwork.

Yet here she was, radiating Luna energy so potent, he could practically taste it on the air, wrapped in a completely human package.

"Impossible," he muttered, studying her with narrowed eyes.

She stared back at him, confusion evident in her expression, seemingly becoming aware of his nudity at the same moment he remembered it. Her eyes widened further, a flush warming her pale cheeks despite her obvious exhaustion.

The blush spread down her neck, and he couldn't help but track its progress with inappropriate interest. His wolf rumbled in satisfaction—human or not, their mate was responding to them.

"This complicates things," he said, mostly to himself. The Seafang territory operated entirely separate from human society. His people lived by ancient laws, their existence carefully hidden from the modern world. A human Luna was unprecedented to their kind.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but another coughing fit overtook her, her body shaking with the effort. He instinctively pulled her closer, his bare chest warming her through the soaked clothing.

He had believed his Luna would be a she-wolf, raised in their traditions and ready to take her place beside him. Someone who understood pack hierarchy and the responsibilities of leadership.

Instead, the ocean had delivered him this fragile human woman who probably knew nothing of wolves or magic. The unfairness of it gnawed at him even as the mate bond solidified between them, impossible to deny with her in his arms.