Page 11 of Mated By Midnight

“I’ve always believed that spaces should feel like they belong to the people who live in them,” Maize added thoughtfully. “So between your mural, Liza’s designs, and the layout, we can really give this community a soul.”

The synergy between the three women felt electric. For the first time in a long time, Celine felt a sense of purpose beyond just the project. She had found allies in Maize and Liza, maybe even friends.

Celine’s smile faltered for a moment as the thought of allies drifted too close to the memory of Elijah. He hadn’t fought for her, hadn’t even come for her after Rylan rejected the arranged marriage. She had tried to push past it, bury it under the work. But every now and then, it crept up, stealing her breath for just a second.

She'd only been on site for two days, but the whispers around the pack about Elijah’s playboy lifestyle had only grown louder. Apparently, commitment wasn’t his thing. That’s why he didn’t want her, why he didn’t want their bond. The rumors only fueled her frustration, her hurt. Maybe he wasn’t interested in having a mate at all. Maybe he was just... content living his carefree life.

The sound of the office door creaking open cut through the air. Celine’s body tensed. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. She felt it. The familiar, electric hum that filled the room whenever Elijah was near. His presence was unmistakable. His scent—a mix of sandalwood and the crisp outdoors—immediately washed over her, pulling her senses into sharp focus.

Her pulse quickened. Her breath caught in her throat as the air grew heavier. The cramped office room felt too small. She kept her eyes locked on her sketchbook, willing herself to remain calm, to keep her composure. But it was impossible to ignore the way her heart hammered in her chest, the way the bond between them thrummed with life the moment he stepped into the room.

"Afternoon, ladies." Elijah's deep, steady voice filled the space.

Celine’s fingers twitched. Her body reacted to the sound even though her mind screamed at her to stay still, to keep her distance.

Liza and Maize glared at him. Celine was thankful for their show of solidarity. She hadn't told them much about what had happened between her and Elijah. But they had seen his absence.

"I’ve been assigned to the project," Elijah replied smoothly. "Rylan thought I’d be useful in implementing communications in the new development."

Celine’s heart lurched.Assigned to the project?He was going to be working here? With them? With her? How was she supposed to be around him every day, knowing what they were? Knowing that he didn’t want her?

She finally looked up, her gaze meeting Elijah’s. His eyes locked on to hers instantly, dark and intense. The world narrowed to just the two of them. The air between them crackled with tension. The bond pulsed like a living thing.

Celine shoved it all away. He hadn’t fought for her. He hadn’t come after her. The bond didn’t change that.

"Welcome aboard, then," Maize said. "You see, we're kind of tight in here. But there's some space on the porch for you."

Elijah’s eyes lingered on Celine, ignoring Maize. "Celine," he said, his voice lower, rougher, as if her name carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said to each other.

"Elijah." Celine kept her voice cool, detached. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. Not now. Not after everything.

The bond between them hummed in the background, always there, always pulling at her, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Its presence was a constant pressure against her skin, like the weight of something inevitable. As much as she tried to fight it, a part of her—a small, traitorous part—wanted to give in.

But she couldn’t. Not after what he’d done. Or rather, what he hadn’t done.

She swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of frustration in her eyes, and kept her focus on the work in front of her. It was the only thing she could do. Because no matter how much she wanted him, Elijah Blackwood had made his choice.

And it hadn’t been her.

9

“Can we talk?” Elijah asked. His voice came out rougher than he intended. He gestured toward the porch, where Maize had exiled him to.

Celine hesitated. Her lips pressed together in a tight line before she nodded. “All right.”

She followed him out, the tension between them thick and heavy. It crackled in the air like an unspoken storm ready to break. She kept a careful distance, her posture stiff, her expression neutral. But her eyes—those eyes—betrayed her. They shimmered with unshed tears, the hurt she was trying so hard to hide.

Once they were outside, Elijah couldn't take it anymore. He'd tried to give her some space to adjust to the job and his pack. But he was done waiting. He reached for her. His hand instinctively moved toward her arm, needing to feel her warmth, to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

Celine jerked back, her body tensing like she might bolt. The fear and hurt in her eyes sent a pang of guilt straight through him. For a second, he thought she might actually run.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice softer, pleading. “Not unless you want to get caught again.”

Her eyes flashed, a mix of anger and pain flaring in them. She crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders stiffening. “I’m not worried about being chased by you, Elijah Blackwood. Not when you threw me back the first time.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, like a cold slap to the face. More so the crack in her voice and the shimmer of tears brimming in her eyes than the actual words she said. She turned away before he could respond, her back to him as she stormed toward the office door.

“Celine—” he started, his hand reaching out toward her.

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