Page 9

SEVEN

ISOLDE

I solde's eyelids fluttered open. Through the windshield, she saw the ocean had returned to its usual gentle rhythm—not the turbulent churning that had matched her chaotic emotions minutes ago. Moonlight danced across the surface in silver ripples, peaceful as a lullaby.

"That's..." Her voice caught in her throat.

"You," Nereus finished, his blue-gray eyes holding hers with an intensity that sent heat spiraling through her body. "Your emotions. Your power."

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, still tingling from his kiss. "I need to grab some things. If what you're saying is true—" she held up her hand when he started to interrupt, "—which I'm not saying I believe yet, but if it's even remotely possible, I can't risk another... incident."

He nodded, the chiseled lines of his face softening slightly. "Five minutes."

"Ten," she countered, surprising herself with the boldness.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Seven. And I'm coming with you."

She pulled the handle of her door, aware of his commanding presence behind her.

Her houseboat rocked gently beneath their feet, the familiar creak of wood against water usually a comfort. Tonight, it felt like a taunt.

"I've always loved that sound," she murmured more to herself than to him.

"What sound?" he asked, ducking his head to enter the cozy living space.

"The way water slaps against the hull. Like the ocean's saying hello." Isolde moved quickly to her bedroom, pulling a duffel bag from her closet. "I used to think the ocean loved me back."

Nereus leaned against her doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. "It still does. More than you know."

She stuffed clothes into her bag without really seeing them. "I destroyed my workplace tonight. People could have died."

"But they didn't."

"Because of you." She paused, a sudden memory flashing—fur instead of skin, piercing eyes that seemed to glow. "It wasn't a dog that saved me, was it?"

Nereus held her gaze, saying nothing. He didn't need to.

She zipped her bag with more force than necessary. "This is truly crazy."

"Yet here you are packing."

"Because I'm a scientist. I need data and observations." She brushed past him toward her bathroom, gathering toiletries. "And because something happened tonight that science can't explain."

Seven minutes later, they were back in his truck, driving along the coastal road. She stared out the window as moonlight illuminated the ocean's surface, its vast expanse stretching beyond the horizon.

"I've studied these waters for years," she said softly. "Cataloged species, analyzed currents, tracked migration patterns. I thought I knew it. Understood it."

"And now?"

"Now I'm wondering if it's been studying me too." She turned to find his eyes already on her. "If what you're saying is true—that I somehow caused that wave—then everything I thought I knew about my relationship with the ocean just changed."

He reached across the console, his hand enveloping hers. "Not changed. Deepened."

His touch sent another jolt through her system like electricity seeking ground. The ocean beside them seemed to pulse in response, a small wave crashing higher on the shore than its neighbors.

"You felt that too," he said. Not a question.

She pulled her hand back, curling her fingers into her palm to preserve the warmth of his touch. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

"That's normal. But you will."

"How?" She shot him a sideways glance. "How am I supposed to control something I don't understand?"

"The same way you learned to swim." His voice rumbled through the cab of the truck. "One stroke at a time and instinct."

The truck turned off the coastal road, onto a narrower lane.

The road wound around, through a small forest, and then Isolde let out a small gasp.

There, rising against the starlit sky like something from a fantasy novel, stood a massive stone castle.

The moonlight washed over its granite walls and towers, giving them an ethereal glow against the backdrop of the dark ocean behind it.

"That can't be your house," she whispered, pressing her face closer to the window.

"Home," Nereus corrected, a hint of pride in his deep voice.

He drove through an ornate iron gate and up a winding driveway. As they approached, Isolde noticed smaller homes nearby—still impressive by normal standards—dotting the expansive property.

"Your... pack lives here?" The word felt strange on her tongue like speaking a language she had never learned.

"The inner circle does. The rest live throughout the territory." Nereus parked the truck but made no move to exit. "You still don't believe me."

She started playing with her hair, still damp from the ocean. "I believe something extraordinary happened tonight. I believe you saved my life." She turned to face him fully. "But a man who turns into a wolf? Powers connected to the ocean? It sounds?—"

"Preposterous?" His mouth quirked into that half-smile that made her stomach flip.

"I was going to say 'impossible,' but, yeah." She glanced at the castle again. "Maybe I hit my head. Maybe I'm still unconscious, floating in the ocean, hallucinating all of this."

"Would you like some proof?" His voice had dropped lower, a challenge in his tone.

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

He stepped out of the truck, circled around to her side, and opened her door. He extended his hand, and she took it, trying to ignore the electric current that shot up her arm at his touch. He led her to an open area beside the driveway bathed in moonlight.

"Don't be afraid," he said, stepping back.

"I'm not afraid," she replied, surprised to find it was true. Despite everything, she felt strangely safe with him.

Nereus held her gaze for one intense moment, then began to change.

It happened quickly—his body shimmering, bones shifting, skin giving way to fur.

Where the imposing man had stood moments before, a massive wolf now watched her with startlingly bright turquoise eyes.

His coat was primarily white with gray markings, gleaming silver in the moonlight.

A gasp escaped her lips, but it wasn't from fear. The wolf—Nereus—was breathtaking. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his thick fur as he took a step toward her. He was easily twice the size of any wolf she had studied in her biology courses.

"It was you," she breathed, recognition dawning. "On the beach. Those eyes..."

The wolf inclined his head in affirmation.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers hovering just above his head. "May I?"

The wolf dipped his muzzle in what could only be permission.

Her fingertips sank into his thick fur, warm and soft despite having been in the ocean hours earlier.

As she touched him, something stirred within her—a connection that seemed to resonate with the gentle lapping of waves against the nearby shore.

"You're magnificent," she whispered.

She couldn't tear her eyes away as Nereus's magnificent wolf form began to shimmer and shift.

Fur receded, paws elongated into hands and feet, and the powerful canine frame stretched and reformed into the sculpted male physique she had admired earlier.

Where the wolf had stood moments before, Nereus now straightened to his full height, completely naked under the full moon.

Her throat went dry. Every inch of him was perfectly proportioned—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, powerful thighs, and everything in between.

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she couldn't look away.

The moonlight cast dramatic shadows across the planes of his muscles, highlighting the raw power contained within his human form.

"See something you like?" His voice carried a teasing rumble.

"I—" Isolde swallowed hard, her body temperature rising despite the cool night air. "You're very... confident."

Nereus chuckled, making no move to cover himself as he strode toward his truck. "When you've lived as long as I have, modesty becomes pointless."

He reached into the truck bed and retrieved the same bag as earlier. With efficient movements, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt. Even clothed, he looked like something carved from marble—too perfect to be real.

"Come with me," he said, not a question but a command. He extended his hand to her, and she found herself taking it before she could overthink the gesture.

As they approached the massive oak doors of the castle, they swung open seemingly of their own accord. Two uniformed staff members stood at attention in the grand foyer.

"Your Royal Highness," they murmured in unison, bowing their heads deferentially.

Isolde blinked. Royal Highness. This wasn't some elaborate story—he truly was royalty among his kind.

"Prepare the azure suite for my guest," Nereus instructed, his voice shifting into something more formal and commanding. "And bring up a late meal."

"Right away, Your Highness." The taller attendant moved swiftly up the sweeping marble staircase.

Isolde felt suddenly small in the cavernous entryway with its vaulted ceilings and ancient tapestries.

The events of the night crashed over her like another wave—the tsunami, nearly drowning, being rescued by a wolf that was actually a man, discovering she somehow controlled water, and now standing in a literal castle with someone who was apparently wolf royalty.

"This isn't really happening," she whispered, swaying slightly on her feet.

Nereus's arm slid around her waist, steady and grounding. "You're exhausted. Tomorrow will be soon enough for more explanations."

She nodded numbly as he guided her up the stairs. The physical contact sent that now-familiar current racing through her body, making her simultaneously drowsy and hyperaware of his proximity.

"Here we are." He paused outside ornate double doors. "The suite has everything you might need. If not, simply ask."

"Thank you," she managed, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.

She stepped into the doorway, then turned back to face him. Nereus was studying her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. Without warning, he closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her cheek while the other settled possessively at the small of her back.

"Sleep well, Luna," he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. Then he kissed her, not with the desperate heat of their earlier kisses but with something deeper and more claiming.

Her body responded instantly, melting against him as if it had found its natural resting place. The kiss was over too soon, leaving her breathless and staring up at him with wide eyes.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Until tomorrow."

As he strode away down the corridor, her body hummed with an unfamiliar longing. She watched him disappear around a corner before stumbling into her suite and closing the door.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered to the empty room, pressing her fingers to her tingling lips.

Every cell in her body seemed to be calling for him, pulling her in his direction like the moon pulled the tides. She had never felt anything remotely like this—this instant, overwhelming connection that defied all logic and reason.

She sank onto the edge of the enormous, canopied bed, her fingers clutching the silken coverlet. Nothing about this night made sense, yet somehow, the most confusing part wasn't the tidal wave or his wolf transformation.

It was how desperately she wanted to run after him.

The scientist in her brain struggled to make sense of it, cataloging her symptoms: elevated heart rate, flushed skin, and heightened awareness.

But no clinical assessment could explain the bone-deep certainty that had settled within her—a feeling that somehow, against all logic, she belonged with him.

"This is utterly insane," she whispered, pressing her palm against her chest where her heart hammered. "I've known him for what—three hours? And half that time he was either naked or a wolf."

Yet the connection felt ancient, as familiar as the ocean she had devoted her life to studying. Every time Nereus touched her, it felt like coming home to a place she didn't know she had been homesick for.

A sharp knock at the door sent her pulse racing. Nereus. He had come back.

She smoothed her still-damp hair and straightened her rumpled clothes before crossing to the door. She pulled it open with more eagerness than she intended, only to find herself face-to-face with a young woman in uniform carrying a silver tray.

"Your evening meal, miss," the attendant said with a polite smile.

Disappointment crashed through Isolde with embarrassing intensity. "Oh. Thank you."

The woman placed the covered tray on a small table by the window. "His Highness suggested you might prefer seafood. I hope seared scallops and lobster risotto are to your liking?"

Isolde nodded, battling the ridiculous wave of longing that followed the mere mention of him. "That's very thoughtful."

"His Highness is always attentive to his guests' needs," the woman replied, a hint of curiosity in her eyes as she studied Isolde. "Especially important ones."

"I'm not—" Isolde began, then stopped. What exactly was she to him? Luna he had called her. Whatever that meant.

After the attendant left, Isolde lifted the silver dome from the tray.

The aroma of perfectly seasoned seafood filled the room, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since coming home after work which now felt like it had happened in another lifetime.

Despite her exhaustion, she managed a few bites, savoring the buttery scallops that melted on her tongue.

"He even knows what I like to eat," she murmured, wondering if it was coincidence or if he had somehow sensed her preferences. Nothing would surprise her anymore.

As she ate, her eyelids grew heavier. The events of the night had drained her completely. She barely managed to get to the bed before collapsing fully clothed onto the plush mattress.

As sleep claimed her, piercing eyes haunted the edges of her consciousness. That half-smile that always caused her heart to race. The commanding way he moved through space as if the world reshaped itself to accommodate him. The possessive heat of his hand on her lower back when he had kissed her.

"Nereus," she whispered as dreams took her, waves of sleep washing over her mind like the tide coming in—gentle but unstoppable, pulling her under into deep waters where a wolf with turquoise eyes waited, patient and hungry, ready to claim what was his.