Page 6 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

"Adrian," I reply, my voice even, though my grip on the champagne flute tightens slightly. "Should I be asking you the same thing?"

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that seems to draw attention without him even trying. "Fair enough," he says, tilting his head slightly. "Though I have to admit, I didn't peg you for the networking type."

"Networking," I say, letting the word hang between us for a moment before I tilt my glass toward him. "Interesting assumption. Are you suggesting I'm here to beg for money?"

His grin sharpens, the faintest glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "I wouldn't put it that bluntly," he says, though the tone suggests he very much would. "But it's not exactly your usual scene, is it?"

"And this is yours?" I counter, arching a brow. "Though I suppose it's easier for you to show up and look interested when the Council sends you to meddle."

His grin widens, his expression maddeningly calm. "Meddling, is it?" he says lightly, stepping closer, his voice dipping just enough to feel more private. "Maybe I'm just here for the free champagne."

"Of course you are," I reply, meeting his gaze head-on. "And I'm sure the Council has nothing to do with it."

He chuckles again, the sound low and infuriatingly warm.

As I lower my glass, movement near the bar catches my attention. My breath stalls as I spot him—Cassian. His presence feels like a physical blow, the room narrowing around him. He stands straight-backed, his dark suit as impeccable as ever, his gaze scanning the crowd with practiced ease. My pulse quickens, and I instinctively step closer to Adrian, my fingers tightening slightly around the stem of my glass.

Adrian notices the shift immediately, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. "You alright?" he asks, his tone softer, edged with curiosity.

"I'm fine," I say too quickly, forcing a smile that feels brittle. "I just—" My gaze flickers back toward Cassian, and I swallow hard, shifting slightly so Adrian's frame blocks my line of sight. "I need to go."

Before I can move, Adrian tilts his head, his expression sharpening as his gaze follows mine briefly. Though he doesn't seem to piece it together, he steps into my space just enough to shield me further. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice lower now, more insistent.

"Nothing," I say, my voice clipped. "Just—just let me pass."

"Not buying it," he murmurs, his hand moving quickly to catch my wrist as I turn to leave. "Come on," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Adrian—" I start, but he's already moving, tugging me gently but firmly away from the main floor. My protests falter as he weaves us through the crowd, his grip steady but not harsh, his broad frame keeping me out of sight.

He tugs me into a shadowed alcove tucked near one of the side entrances. The space is narrow, the walls cool stone, and the noise of the crowd outside muffles slightly. My back presses against the rough surface, and Adrian stands just inches away, his frame blocking the light from the hallway.

Suddenly, a pulse of energy hums through my veins, unbidden but not unwelcome. I see something shift in his expression, a momentary break in his composure as his body leans just slightly closer.

"Adrian," I say, though the warning in my voice lacks conviction.

His scent surrounds me—dark spice and something distinctly him—and the air feels impossibly thick. My wolf pushes against the barriers I've spent years fortifying, and the energy between us swells, electric and undeniable.

"You're infuriating," I whisper.

"And you're impossible," he counters, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.

The air shifts, charged with something neither of us wants to name. His hand, still on my wrist, loosens its grip but doesn't pull away. I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but feel—the heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze, the pull of the bond we've both been fighting.

It's Adrian who moves first, his head dipping just slightly, enough to close the distance but not enough to cross the line. His lips hover over mine, a breath away, and I'm torn between closing the gap and shoving him back.

A burst of laughter from the crowd jolts us apart. The spell shatters, leaving us staring at each other, raw and exposed.

He steps back with the mask of control slipping back into place. "Good luck with your project, Elara. You'll need it."

He's gone before I can respond, leaving me in the shadows with my thoughts and the knowledge of what almost happened.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 4

ADRIAN

Elara steps out of the south lecture hall, her figure cutting through the light spilling across the campus walkways. Her bag is slung over one shoulder, the other hand clutching a folder, her fingers without any manicure pressing into the edges.

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