Alexander's POV

We arrived at Seth's apartment twenty minutes later. It was a sleek, modern space in the heart of the city. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed me one without a word.

I took a long drink, hoping the alcohol would dull the ache in my chest. It didn't.

"Tell me everything," Seth said, settling into the chair across from me. "From the beginning."

So I told him. About seeing Stella at the club, about the instant recognition, the pull. About how I'd approached her and felt the bond snap into place with such force it nearly brought me to my knees. About her confusion, her questions, and my rejection. About how she collapsed and I couldn't leave her there, how I'd brought her to the hospital and sat by her bed for hours, watching her breathe, feeling like the worst bastard alive.

Seth listened without interrupting, his expression growing more serious with each detail.

"She dreamed about you," he said when I finished. "Before she ever met you, she was dreaming about you."

"She said that, yes."

"That's not normal, even for mate bonds." Seth leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Usually the bond doesn't manifest until you meet in person. Dreams before meeting? That's... that's something else. Something stronger."

A chill ran down my spine. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe she's not as human as you think she is." Seth's eyes were sharp, calculating. "Or maybe the bond between you two is stronger than a typical mate bond. Either way, this isn't something you can just walk away from, Alexander. This is bigger than you, bigger than your fears."

I wanted to argue, but doubt crept in. What if he was right? What if there was more to Stella than I realized?

"It doesn't matter," I said, but the words felt hollow even to me. "I made my choice. I rejected her. It's done."

"Is it?" Seth asked. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're falling apart. And if you're this much of a mess, I can only imagine what she's going through right now."

The image of Stella lying unconscious on that hospital bed flashed through my mind, and guilt twisted in my gut. Seth was right. The rejection would be hurting her just as much, if not more.

"I don't know what to do," I admitted, and the confession felt like failure.

Seth stood and walked to the window, looking out over the city. "You have three options," he said finally. "One: you go back to her, apologize, and accept the bond. Help her understand what she is to you and what this world is. Two: you maintain the rejection but keep your distance, let her move on with her life while you suffer in silence. Three: you find a middle ground, watch over her from afar, protect her without claiming her, and hope that's enough."

"None of those are good options."

"No," Seth agreed, turning back to me. "They're not. But they're the only ones you have. Because like it or not, she's your mate. That's not going to change. The only question is what you're going to do about it."

I drained the rest of my beer, the weight of his words settling over me like a shroud. He was right. I couldn't escape this. I couldn't escape her.

The only question was whether I was brave enough to face what that meant.

"I need to think," I said finally.

Seth nodded. "Take all the time you need. But Alexander? Don't take too long, for both of you."

I stood to leave, but Seth's voice stopped me at the door.

"One more thing," he said. "If you decide you can't do this, if you really want to let her go... make sure it's for the right reasons. Not because you're scared. Fear is a terrible reason to lose the best thing that could ever happen to you."

I left without responding, but his words followed me all the way home.

Back in my apartment, the silence was deafening. I paced the floor, my wolf restless and angry, demanding I go to her. Every instinct I had screamed at me to return to the hospital, to reclaim what I'd rejected.

But I couldn't.

Could I?

I poured myself a drink, then another, trying to drown out the bond that pulled at me like a physical tether. But nothing worked. She was there, in every thought, in every breath.

I grabbed my keys. I needed to get out, needed to do something, anything to prove to myself that I could function without her. That the bond didn't control me. That I was still in control of my own damn life.

The club. I'd go back to Club Imperium. Maybe seeing where we met, where everything went wrong, would help me figure out what to do next.

Or maybe I was just a masochist.

Saturday morning was quiet at the club. The energy was different from Friday night, almost empty.

The moment I walked in, I felt her absence like a physical wound. She wasn't here. Of course she wasn't. She was probably still at the hospital, or at home recovering, hating me.

As she should.

I headed straight for the bar, needing something stronger than the beer I'd had at Seth's. That's when I saw a red-haired woman sitting alone with a drink. She looked up as I approached, her eyes lighting with interest.

"Rough night?" she asked, her voice smooth, inviting.

"Something like that," I muttered, signaling the bartender.

She shifted on her stool, angling her body toward me. "Want some company? You look like you could use it."

I should have said no. I should have finished my drink and left. But the bond was clawing at my insides, my wolf was howling for a mate I'd rejected, and I was desperate for anything that might shut it up for even five minutes.

"Sure," I said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Of course you can." She smiled sweetly, sliding closer.

We drank together, making small talk about nothing important. Light things. Surface things. She laughed at my half-hearted jokes, touched my arm, leaned in close enough that I could smell her perfume-something floral and cloying that made my wolf recoil.

Wrong. All wrong. Not our mate.

I ignored it and ordered another round.

From there, things happened fast. First we were talking over drinks and next we were in a room, her hands on my jeans..

She kissed me roughly and I kissed her back, trying to lose myself in the sensation.

But she wasn't Stella.

"You're tense," she murmured against my mouth, her hands working at my zipper. "Let me help you relax."

She freed my cock from my pants, Her hand wrapped around it, stroking with practiced efficiency, and I let my head fall back, closing my eyes.

But the moment I closed my eyes, all I saw was Stella. Her face in the hospital bed. The way she'd looked at me at the club before I rejected her.

"Fuck," I muttered.

"Mmm, yes," the redhead purred, misinterpreting. She dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth.

The sensation felt good. Her mouth was wet, tongue skilled that should have had me hard on seconds. But my body wasn't just cooperating. My wolf was snarling, rejecting every touch that wasn't from our mate.

I tried. God, I tried. I gripped the back of her head, tried to focus on her mouth on my dick but my mind kept drifting to Stella.

My phone buzzed on the table, stopping us short as I grabbed the phone. A message from my grandmother: Come home, Alexander. We need to talk.

I exhaled, finally I could stop torturing myself to enjoy this.

I typed back: On my way.

"Sorry I have to leave." I said sharply, watching her pout.

I pulled out my wallet, threw some bills on the bed for her time and the insult. She snatched them up without a word, and I left the room before she could say anything else.

I had to brace myself for what was coming because I knew what my grandma wanted to discuss and it had everything to do with her.

Stella's POV

The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains like gold dust, but it couldn't warm me. It had been weeks since the bar, weeks since his voice - that voice that shattered me, told me I wasn't enough.

The world kept spinning as if nothing had happened, yet inside me, something was stuck between silence and screaming. I hadn't stepped outside in days. The walls of my small apartment had become my refuge and my punishment all at once.

Talia arrived unannounced, her usual whirlwind of perfume and chatter breaking through the dull rhythm of my thoughts. She dropped her bag on the couch and turned to me with a look that said she was tired of waiting for me to move on.

"You look awful," she said bluntly. "And before you glare at me, yes, I mean that as a friend."

I forced a weak smile. "Thanks, Talia. I've been practicing."

She rolled her eyes and joined me on the sofa. "You've been avoiding work, ignoring calls, and I swear if I see one more of those untouched soup bowls in your sink, I'm calling the health department."

"I can't go back there," I whispered. "Not after what happened. Everyone saw it. Everyone knows."

"Knows what?" she pressed. "That some jerk with an ego the size of a mountain couldn't see your worth? Please, Stella, if that's enough to end your life, you've been living for the wrong reasons."

Her words stung, but maybe that was what I needed, to feel something other than this strange emptiness. I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at the window.

The dreams had returned last night, more vivid than ever. Him, his eyes glowing like moonlight, his voice calling my name in the dark forest of my mind. I used to wake up trembling, but lately, the fear had turned into something else. A pull. A need I couldn't explain.

"They're getting worse," I murmured.

Talia frowned. "The dreams again?"

I nodded. "They're so real, Talia. I feel him there. Every time I wake, it's like he's standing right beside me."

"You're overthinking," she said softly. "You've been through trauma. It messes with your head."

I wanted to believe that, but deep down I knew it wasn't just my mind playing tricks. Something about that man, about Alexander, had attached itself to my soul, like a mark I couldn't wash off.

Before Talia could reply, a sharp knock echoed from the door. We both froze.

"You expecting someone?" she asked.

I shook my head and stood, hesitating before unlocking it. A tall man in a black coat stood outside, crisp and formal, like he had stepped out of another world.

He held a small brown envelope and offered it to me with a polite bow.

"Miss Stella Beilingham?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I was sent to deliver this. Your appointment has been approved."

"My... appointment?" I blinked, confused.

He smiled, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your employment offer. The family is expecting you today."

I stared at him. "There must be a mistake. I didn't apply for anything."

"Perhaps not recently," he said smoothly, "but your credentials were impressive. The position is urgent, live, in nanny, generous pay, excellent conditions. They'll handle your transportation and continue your medical treatments if necessary."

Talia stood, suspicion flashing across her face. "Hold on, who exactly sent you?"

The man didn't look at her. His attention remained fixed on me. "The family prefers discretion. You'll understand once you arrive."

Something about his tone - calm, confident, final, sent a chill through me. I glanced at the envelope. My name was written in neat cursive across the front. No logo, no signature. Just Stella Beilingham.

I should have asked more questions. I should have refused. But a part of me - the desperate, restless part, saw it as a chance. A way out of the hole I had fallen into. A new beginning.

"How soon would I start?" I asked.

"Immediately," he said. "A car is waiting outside."

Talia gaped. "Stella, you can't just...."

"I need this," I said, surprising even myself. "I can't keep sitting here, Talia. Maybe it's time to move forward."

"By following a stranger to who knows where?"

I gave a shaky laugh. "It's just a nanny job. What's the worst that could happen?"

Her frown deepened. "That sentence never ends well in movies."

I tried to keep my voice light, but inside, my stomach twisted. Still, I went to my small room, folding clothes with hands that trembled slightly.

The dreams had shown me forests, silver moons, strange houses I didn't recognize, and for some reason, as I packed, I couldn't shake the feeling that this job was leading me straight into one of them.

Talia followed me to the door. "Please call me when you get there," she said. "Promise?"

"I promise," I lied, though I wasn't sure why it felt like a lie.

The man loaded my bags into the back of a sleek black car. The moment I stepped inside, a faint scent filled the air, something familiar. Woodsmoke and rain. My pulse stumbled.

"Where exactly am I going?" I asked as the car pulled away from the curb.

"To the Calum estate," the driver replied without turning.

The name hit me like a physical blow. Calum. My breath caught. The car kept moving, tires whispering over the road as the city faded behind us.

I pressed a hand to my chest. "There must be some mistake," I said softly. "I can't"

But the driver only looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes cold and knowing. "Fate doesn't make mistakes, Miss Beilingham."

The world outside blurred into trees and mist. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every instinct screamed that I should tell him to stop, that I should run back, that this was too strange, too fast, too deliberate. But another voice - deeper, quieter - whispered that this was where I was meant to go.

When the gates came into view, tall and iron-black, the moon broke through the clouds above, washing everything in silver. For a second, I could have sworn the wind carried a voice, low, familiar, and full of longing.

You can't escape me, Stella.

I turned toward the sound, but there was only darkness beyond the trees.

The car rolled forward through the gates. The sound of them closing behind us echoed like a heartbeat, heavy, final, and certain.

And just like that, I realized the one place I had sworn never to return to was waiting at the end of the road.

Stella pov

The car slowed to a stop before a house that looked more like a world of its own. High stone walls rose against the horizon, their tops crowned with climbing roses and creeping ivy. The gate closed behind us with a sound that made my stomach tighten. The silence here wasn't ordinary. It was the kind that listened back.

I stepped out slowly, the air cool and rich with the scent of pine and something faintly metallic - power, maybe, if power had a smell. The driver said nothing as he carried my bags toward the grand staircase. Every step I took echoed in the courtyard like a small trespass.

The front doors opened before I could reach them. A woman stood framed in the golden light spilling from inside. She was older, with silver hair pulled neatly back, wearing a soft smile that didn't match the cold elegance of the house. Her eyes, however, were kind-bright, assessing, alive.

"You must be Miss Beilingham," she said. Her voice carried the soft authority of someone used to being obeyed. "Welcome, my dear. You've had a long journey."

"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, my voice small in the vast hall.

"Oh, don't call me ma'am." She waved her hand as if brushing away the title. "Call me Grandmother Calum, or just Grandmother if you prefer. I don't stand much on formalities. You must be tired. Come, child."

I followed her inside, my shoes tapping against marble floors so polished I could see my reflection in them. The hall stretched endlessly, with portraits lining the walls - men with sharp eyes and wolfish features, women cloaked in mystery and pride. The air felt old, heavy with stories.

Grandmother Calum moved gracefully, though age had clearly slowed her. She guided me past tall windows draped in velvet and chandeliers that shimmered like captured stars.

"You'll be staying in the east wing," she said warmly. "It's quieter there, and you'll have the best view of the gardens. You'll be caring for me, but truthfully, my dear, I suspect you'll end up brightening this whole house. It's been far too empty lately."

Her words loosened something tight in my chest. For the first time in weeks, I felt seen,not pitied, not judged, just seen.

"Thank you," I said softly. "This place is beautiful."

She smiled. "It's old. Older than most of the families in this region. But beauty can be a curse if left without laughter. I have a feeling you'll bring that back."

A maid appeared to carry my bags upstairs, and I followed. The guest room she led me to looked like something out of a dream - wide bed, white curtains, sunlight spilling across antique furniture. I sat at the edge of the bed and touched the soft quilt, still unsure if any of this was real.

"Rest, dear," Grandmother Calum said. "We'll talk more over dinner. You've arrived just in time. My grandson should be home tonight."

Her voice softened on the word grandson, as if it held equal parts pride and pain. I smiled faintly and nodded, unaware that the name she didn't speak was the one that haunted my dreams.

After she left, I wandered to the window. The estate stretched out below, acres of wild garden, the forest pressing close, the faint glow of lanterns flickering at the edge of the trees. Something about it made my heart beat faster. It felt familiar, like stepping into a memory I didn't know I had.

As twilight deepened, exhaustion pulled at me. I changed into something comfortable and lay down, meaning only to rest for a few minutes. The bed seemed to cradle me in warmth. My eyes drifted shut before I realized it.

****ALEXANDER'S POV

The scent of pine and smoke clung to me as I stepped inside, the quiet of the hall wrapping around me like a living thing. The house always felt like this-old, vast, watching. My boots barely made a sound, but my presence filled the space all the same.

My jaw was tight, my thoughts still tangled with the day's troubles, territorial disputes, pack politics, and the endless prattle of those who thought they understood leadership.

None of it compared to the irritation I'd felt when my grandmother's summons arrived, written in her sharp, slanted hand, demanding I come home because she had something important to discuss.

"Grandmother?" My voice echoed softly through the hall.

She appeared at the foot of the stairs, leaning on her cane, her gaze sharp as ever. "Alexander, my boy. You're late."

"I had matters to settle," I said evenly.

"Matters," she repeated, with that knowing look that made me feel twelve again. "The kind that never end. Sit, dear. We need to talk."

I sighed but followed her into the sitting room. The firelight flickered against the walls, throwing gold across my reflection in the window. For a fleeting moment, I saw the boy I used to be-before the curse settled on our bloodline, before fate started writing my life for me.

"You've been restless," Grandmother said, pouring tea as if it were a ritual. "I can see it in your eyes. Tell me the truth, Alexander. Have you found her?"

I froze. "Found who?"

"Your mate."

I kept my face still, but the tension in my shoulders betrayed me. "I don't have a mate, Grandmother."

Her gaze sharpened, the way it always did when she smelled a lie. "Every alpha meets his fated one eventually. The Moon does not make mistakes."

I met her eyes, my voice low. "Maybe she did this time."

"Careful with your words," she warned, her tone firm. "You sound like your father when you doubt destiny."

"I'm nothing like him," I said flatly.

She sighed, setting her cup aside, then rested a hand on my shoulder. "You deny it because you're afraid. Afraid of what she might awaken in you."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"Come," she said at last, turning toward the staircase. "You'll have dinner with us. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Reluctantly, I followed her up the stairs. My steps were heavy, my thoughts darker with each one. I wasn't in the mood to entertain anyone-especially not someone she'd chosen. My heart still ached with the memory of that night, the sight of a girl with trembling hands and eyes that had no place in my world.

We reached the east wing. The door to the guest room was slightly ajar, soft light spilling from within.

"Stella," Grandmother called gently, pushing the door open. "Dear, I thought you might like to meet my grandson."

The words had barely left her lips before I froze.

She was there.

Stella lay on the bed, turned slightly toward the light, her hair a soft spill across the pillow. For one suspended breath, neither of us moved. Her eyes fluttered open-slow, hazy with sleep-before widening in disbelief.

Our gazes locked. The air thickened, pulsing with something I couldn't name but could feel deep in my bones.

Grandmother's voice cut through the silence, curious and sharp. "Do you two know each other?"

It took a heartbeat too long for me to answer.

"No," I said quickly, my voice rougher than I intended. "We've never met."

Stella forced a smile, faint and trembling. "No, ma'am. Never."

Grandmother smiled faintly, though I caught the narrowing of her eyes. "Interesting," she murmured. "Very interesting."